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“Are you sure you’re okay?”

I didn’t feel like talking about it anymore, so I straddled his waist, rocking my pelvis against his. Dipping my head down to take his nipple in my mouth, I gave it a teasing bite. “I will be.”

Desmond groaned as I reached between us and wrapped my fingers around his hard shaft. “Looks like you woke up ready,” I teased, rubbing the head of his cock against my opening. Nightmares weren’t the best way to put me in the mood, but the thickness of him so close to me was always enough to make me crazy.

His fingers snaked into my hair, and he pulled my head down, meeting my mouth with his for a feverish, needy kiss. I traced his lips with my tongue, feeding on him, each kiss deeper and more desperate than the last. I wanted to feel him in every part of me, wanted his warmth to smother me. I guided him inside me, and he thrust up while my hand was still around him, the friction doubling as he moved his hips.

I gasped and released him, bracing both my hands on his chest as I found his frenetic rhythm. I leaned back, and his wide palms cupped my breasts, rough fingertips circling each peaked nipple until they were almost painfully rigid. He sat up, lowering his hands to my hips and squeezing almost painfully tight as I rode him, lifting me and dropping me down on his hardness. Each new thrust treaded the line between pleasure and pain, and left me panting.

When his mouth latched on to my already sensitive nipple, I cried out, my fingernails digging into the smooth, hot skin of his back. He bit down the same way I had done to him moments earlier. I continued to make animalistic noises while he

dug his fingers into my hips and slammed me down on his shaft.

His own breath came in short pants, his face pressed against mine with his ear beside my mouth. Every time I cried out he thrust harder, feeding off my pleasure until we were both slick with sweat and my throat was raspy from uttering inane commands like, “More, harder, faster, yes.” He obliged every request until at last I screamed and he grunted our mutual release.

Desmond’s face was between my breasts, his hands still locked on my hips as we gasped together for air.

“Good morning,” he whispered into my skin, chuckling slightly since it was six in the evening.

I threaded my fingers through his black hair before lowering them over his shoulders and tracing the hot, damp planes of his back. “You sure know how to chase a bad dream away.”

He licked my nipple, and I shuddered. My whole body felt like it was charged with electric energy and every touch was a shock. Desmond smiled, clearly pleased by the reaction he got from me. “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”

I held him close until the last traces of the nightmare were gone.

Then I let him chase them off again in the shower for twenty minutes, just to be sure.

Chapter Twelve

I’d once believed my bathroom was the pinkest place on Earth.

Sitting in the waiting area of Kleinfeld Bridal, I realized how wrong my assessment had been. The whole place was plush, posh and insanely girly. Too girly. If I didn’t still have the taste of lime in my mouth from my passionate wake-up call with Desmond, I thought I might taste bubble gum and cotton candy in the air.

“Hi, hi, hi,” Mercedes said, her breath hurried as she came into the room with Kellen behind her and plopped down on the couch beside me, kissing me on the cheek. “So sorry we’re late. There was an accident on Lexington, and we had a hell of a time getting out of the city.”

“Why didn’t we just go to a place in the city?” Brigit asked. She’d come with me and was a bundle of nerves since her meeting with the council the previous evening. They hadn’t made a decision yet, and I expected she would be on edge until they did. And I understood vampires well enough to know they wouldn’t be in any special hurry to reach a conclusion.

“Because if you have money and you’re getting married in New York, this is where you come for your dress,” Kellen replied matter-of-factly.

She was right. I didn’t care much for planning weddings or any of this crap, but even I knew if you wanted a good dress, you came to Kleinfeld. As luck had it, between my Tribunal income and my billionaire fiancé, I was in a unique position to afford whatever dress I wanted. Kimberly hadn’t even bothered to make appointments at other stores. This was our one-stop dress shop. I was going to find my dress here or I wouldn’t find it at all.

There was the added pressure that I had to find said dress soon because my wedding was in two weeks. I was asking for a miracle, but the great thing about an unlimited budget was it had a habit of making miracles happen.

With my bridal party nestled around me, we had one more person we were waiting for. Kimberly, her dark hair in a pristine bun, wearing pearls with her lilac twin set and khaki pencil skirt, walked into the waiting room laughing with the middle-aged woman at her side.

“Girls.” Kimberly clapped loudly to get our attention and showed off her too-white teeth like a shark might before it ate you. “Are we ready to have some fun?”

The girls in question all grumbled their excitement. It made me want to giggle. Poor Kimberly was probably used to women tripping over themselves to get at the dresses and parade around like satin-covered Barbie dolls. Instead she got me and my equally thrilled gaggle of bridesmaids—a cop, a vampire and a been-there-done-that socialite.

Unwilling to have the cheer beaten out of her, my wedding planner smiled wider and held out a hand to shift our attention to the woman next to her, who was wearing black from head to toe and an expression that was friendly but clearly meant business.

I suspected Kimberly had used the magic words—spare no expense.

“This is Olivia. She’ll be our consultant for the evening and has assured me we can take all the time we need.” On a typical day, Kleinfeld ran on an almost military schedule with appointments, trying to get brides in and out at a rapid-fire pace so they could make as many sales as possible in as short a window as possible. To throw appointment time into the wind meant Olivia and her managers believed my single purchase would make it worthwhile.

I wasn’t used to being the center of such focused attention. Olivia was counting on me to make her commission. I guess I’d better step up and be a good little bride. Once I had a dress, I could get the hell out of here, and that would be worth whatever cost was on the tag.

“All righty,” I said with a smile, pushing myself off the squishy loveseat. “Let’s get started.”


Tags: Sierra Dean Secret McQueen Paranormal