Chapter Forty-Five
Bobbi
“What is life without proper parties to celebrate its milestones?” Yuna says raising a glass.
Music is floating in the air and people are dancing. The liquor flows freely as well. It’s the seventh round of drinks she’s serving to the guests at our intimate reception. She must’ve secretly worked as a bartender because she makes the soju and champagne bomb shots with such ease and flair, lining up the specialty flutes and dropping the soju shots in a sort of domino motion.
“It’s like everyone’s winning at life and love.” Cassie grins. TJ proposed a couple of months ago, and she now sports a gorgeous solitaire ring on her finger.
“Winning is important,” Josie says, slurring slightly. She’s the cheap date of the family. “Nobody remembers the losers.”
“Is that what you tell your patients?” I ask, laughing even though I’m not sure what she said is funny. But it feels funny to my brain.
“You should, cuz you’re honest,” Ivy says.
“I’m just glad I got married first. Mom would’ve been impossible,” Yuna says, then giggles.
“Baby, I don’t think you need another shot,” Declan says, pulling her from the bar. “Let’s dance.”
Just as he says it, the music dies. Declan frowns, and Yuna sighs. “Guess it’s time for another shot after all.”
Suddenly a dramatic tune from “La cumparsita” hits the crowd. Grant and Aspen clasp hands and begin moving to the music with shocking expertise. I had no idea they could tango so well. Meanwhile, Sebastian looks pained, while Lucie tugs at his hand with a smile that’s slightly loopy from too much sugar and happiness.
“Come on, Seb,” she says, then laughs.
Sighing, he rests his hands on her waist and leads her. Instead of moving with him to the beat, she wraps her arms around his neck and clings. He laughs, looking at his wife fondly. A giggle bubbles from her, and she buries her face in his shoulder.
Noah places his hand on my bare shoulder.
“I can’t tango,” I say quickly.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to attempt a tango in front of those two and make an idiot out of myself.” He angles his head to whisper into my ear. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Seriously?” He has to be joking.
But his expression is dead serious, except his eyes are bright with mischief.
“Noah! We can’t leave our own wedding reception.”
“Sure we can. Nobody’s going to notice. We fed them and plied them with alcohol.” His hand glides down my arm, sending delicious goosebumps over my sun-kissed skin. “Don’t you want to experience the genius behind Silicone Dream’s Lick-a-Lass?”
Silicone Dream is Sierra’s sex toy company. And I’ve actually heard of that toy. I jerk my head up. “You’re behind that one?”
“Hell, yeah. I was intimately—intimately, I tell you—involved in product development.”
“Huh. So the Five Heavenly Motions come from you?”
“Ah, I see that you’re a woman of experience. But why settle for a mass-produced imitation when you can have the one and only, the original, the nonpareil human Lick-a-Lass?” He cocks an eyebrow lasciviously.
I giggle, then shriek with laughter when he picks me up and carries me away.
His brothers call out something I can’t quite catch. Someone starts a champagne shower, and the priceless Dom lands on us as Noah’s long-legged strides eat up the distance, taking us to the house—our home.
“Don’t worry about the champagne. I’ll get you clean with my tongue,” Noah murmurs.
I giggle at his faux gravitas, but soon it turns into a soft moan when his mouth fuses over mine.
Vaguely I register us moving up the stairs and then along the cool corridor that seems almost as long as our kiss. Finally, we enter the bedroom. Noah gently stands me up. The backs of my legs hit the mattress and he tugs at the small buttons and lace ties on my bodice. His lips and tongue plunder my mouth with such urgency I expect him to lose patience and rip the dress off. But he takes his time, like a man given a gift so precious he can’t bring himself to be rough, even with the wrapping.
I cradle his cheek, then pull at his bowtie, letting the strip of silk slide down his tux. His kiss deepens as I undress him, revealing more of the gorgeous physique I adore for its beauty and strength. My bodice loosens and droops. He drags the dress down, the priceless silk pooling at my feet with a soft whisper. He runs his mouth over my exposed body, every touch of his lips searing. There is a reverence and possessiveness to the kisses he rains all over me. He doesn’t have to speak, and I still hear it—mine.
I tremble with need and love. Sex with Noah is always amazing and hot, but the sweet tenderness of the moment undoes me.
He strips me out of my underwear, and I lie panting. My nipples bead in the cool air, and he runs his tongue over the pointed tips, one by one, making my toes curl.
He pulls one into his mouth and sucks. A low moan swells in my throat, and I clench his hair. He tugs at my other nipple. The callused tips of his clever fingers know exactly what to do to drown me in a pool of desire and pleasure.
“Please, please,” I beg, desperate for deeper intimacy. My legs move restlessly against him.
He spreads my knees. His breathing has roughened, but his touch couldn’t be more tender. He runs his mouth over my quivering inner thighs. “Mine.” A kiss. “Mine.” A kiss closer to my core. “Mine.” A lick that results in an impossible ache and pooling of liquid heat in my flesh. “My wife.”
Our eyes lock. Warmth suffuses my cheeks, and a breath shudders out of me. His eyes blaze.
He dips his head. His tongue moves up, licking me like he’s devouring the fluffiest nama-cream. I arch my back at the pleasure twisting through me, my fingers scratching the sheet. He links our hands, our palms pressed tight, and then uses his lips and tongue on me, his breath fanning against my sensitive flesh.
Sweat mists over me as a blinding bliss overpowers my senses, leaving me sobbing my husband’s name. But even as I begin to shake with orgasm, there’s an aching emptiness. He senses my need, grips my hips and pushes inside, stretching me and filling me all the way. I gasp at the rightness of it, the sheer intimacy of the union.
His forehead rests on mine.
“Hello, Mrs. Lasker,” he whispers.
“Hello, Mr. Lasker.” I lay a loving hand on his cheek. “Welcome home.”
A stunning smile breaks over his gorgeous face. And we rock each other into a blissful oblivion.