I didn’t touch her, but I couldn’t stop myself from imprisoning her within my space. Her goddamned mesmerizing eyes locked into mine from beneath her long lashes.
“You’re more beautiful than you know,” I said. Christ, how I loved her. “I can’t find the words to tell you what I feel.”
She smiled and used the lapels of my jacket to leverage her body tightly against mine. “There are no words for us. Just know that I love you madly,” she said.
I was gone. Nothing could bring me back from that.
“No words, baby.”
“Let’s get out of here, Will. I’m done with all of this. Take me to bed.”
Ellie
After Will carried me to our master suite, he locked us inside. Flames danced over glowing embers in the fireplace, and candles flickered on the tabletops. Jess and Ben had come in first to light the hearth, deliver the top layer of our wedding cake, and put more champagne on ice.
Our best friends also had decorated a small fir tree. Will and I would share our first Christmas morning in our suite as a couple while everyone else celebrated downstairs. Will had given orders that we weren’t to be disturbed before Christmas dinner was on the table.
Time was precious, and we were rarely blessed with opportunities to spend it alone. This stolen time, these limited number of hours, was all that we would have. We wouldn’t get a honeymoon until after all security issues were resolved satisfactorily in Will’s mind. Neither of us could predict how long that might take. But he’d promised, and he always kept his word. Paris, we’d decided. When the time was right.
A mixture of velvety, dark-crimson English roses and white gardenias infused the air of our suite with their sweet perfumes. Dozens were displayed in vases, and others were arranged on the floor, creating a romantic pathway into our bedroom. I smiled because I knew that the flowers were from Will. That was his thing.
My husband pulled me to his chest and gripped my ass, pressing my stomach forcefully against his arousal. Our eyes met, then our lips, and Will kissed the breath out of me. His kiss was hard, drowning us in desperate passion. It was like the ravenous kiss we shared when we were separated for too long, though we had been together the night before.
He drew back, his hands coming up to cradle my face, his lips tugging on mine in between the words he spoke. “Do you want cake . . . more champagne . . . a hot bath?”
“I want you. Only you,” I whispered.
His handsome smirk set off a wave of pleasure in me that flowed from my heart to the sensual place low in my abdomen where I burned for him.
“Well, then, let’s get you out of this dress.”
I pushed on his jacket until it slid from his shoulders and down his arms to the floor, then turned around so he could unfasten the silk buttons at the top of my backside. He released the buttons, and I lifted my arms so that he could find his way to the other closures.
“It’s quite perfect for your arse,” he said of the gown as he revealed my bare behind. I had already slipped out of my panties, which I’d secretly presented to him at the reception. He had held the scant piece of lace fabric inside his hand for a few minutes before stuffing it into his pocket.
Will gathered my hair and placed it over my shoulder, then pressed his erection into the cleft of my ass. His fingers searched beneath my arms for the covered zippers. He pulled each one down slowly. “It’s mine. You are mine.” The warmth of his exhalation and the power of his words hit my neck, causing goose bumps to rise over my skin.
Even warmer were his lips and his tongue as he licked and then sucked on the birthmark imprinted over the wildly pulsing carotid artery in my neck. My breath caught in my throat, and my legs gave way beneath me.
“I waited so long,” he said near my ear, supporting my weight. “But you’ve always been mine.”
Will’s possessive behavior was my drug. The idea was rather sick, really, but nonetheless it was true. His touch was my stimulant and my painkiller. Without words, I demanded that he touch every part of me, demanded that he make me feel everything and nothing. I would sacrifice anything to have it—even my own pride.
“Please, Will,” I begged. “Please, I need—”
“Turn,” he interrupted sharply. “I want to see more of my wife.”
Silk and lace fell to the floor. My bare body trembled. I wasn’t afraid of him, never had been. I was afraid of me with him. He made my heart feel things I had never known, made my body crave things I had never before desired. I turned to face him.
My husband hooked his finger beneath my chin, but his eyes first toured my body before meeting mine, as if he were admiring his winnings. He nodded. “I’ll give you what you need and more. Because, Elle, that’s exactly what I need. To give you everything.”
“I know,” I told him. “Take off your shirt.”
I did know. Will and I loved each other with extraordinary desperation. Some might have said that ours was an unhealthy relationship. But our codependence, if that was what it was, was a shared, consensual behavior—we recognized it and embraced it.
Will’s eyes remained locked into mine while he plucked the cuff links from his sleeves. Then, as he worked the buttons on his shirt, I unfastened his trousers and pushed his underwear down. His heavy erection fell into my hands, and I stroked him. God, he was so big.
His answering growl marked the end of his composed demeanor.