She moans into my mouth, her tongue meeting mine and I quickly break the kiss, desperate to get myself back under control.
The feel of her, her scent, her warmth, it’s just…
It’s good.
So. Fucking. Good.
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte
“Ihave asurprise planned for you.”
I glance over at my future husband who’s already watching me, his gaze steady and dare I say lust-filled. Who knew a wedding rehearsal could turn him on?
Though I suppose it’s not just the rehearsal. The attraction between us has been growing since we first met. And the fact that we’re actually getting married tomorrow, and while I still stand by my reasoning that this isn’t normal—not even close—it almost feels like a free pass.
We can do whatever we want with each other. We’re going to be married. No one can stop us.
I can stop myself. I can push him away, and he can do the same to me. But why would I? I’m attracted to him. I can’t deny it. And from the way he seems so protective of me, I think he’s drawn to me as well.
I like his protectiveness. Even his possessive ways. They’re so different than my father’s, who acts like he owns me yet doesn’t want to deal with me.
Perry acts like I belong to him, and he wants nothing else but me.
Big, giant difference.
“What is it?” I finally ask.
His smile is secretive. Sexy. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise.”
We’re seated next to each other at a table in a private room of the hotel restaurant, the rehearsal dinner winding down. I’m exhausted and nervous over everything happening tomorrow, and only a few seconds ago, I firmly believed my evening plans consisted of me going to the hotel room my mother reserved for me, taking a long, hot shower and falling into bed.
But my fiancé now has me intrigued.
“And when do I get to see this surprise?” I keep my voice purposely even, as if what he’s saying is no big deal, but deep down, I’m excited. No one ever thinks of me or wants to give me something. I fade into the background, your favorite wallpaper. You always claim it’s pretty, but that’s all you can say about it.
That’s me. I’m pretty, expensive wallpaper.
“After dinner.”
I watch him, how he’s sprawled in his chair, his legs spread wide in that way men sit. His suit jacket is long gone and the tie is loose around his neck, the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms.
My almost-husband has nice forearms. Thick with muscle and those capable, strong hands. I swear I see the hint of a…tattoo?
Wait. It’s definitely more than a hint.
That’s an actual tattoo on the inside of his right arm.
I reach for his hand, flipping his arm over so I can examine the tattoo more closely. It’s an image of three swords crossed and I trace it, glancing up at him to find he’s already watching me. “What does this represent?”
His gaze never strays from mine. “Me and my brothers.”
“I love that.” I do. I’ve never been one to find tattoos particularly sexy. They’re just…there. Most of the time with no meaning. People choose to mark their bodies forever with images or words they think are cool, then end up regretting their choices years later.
I’ve flirted with the idea of getting a tattoo in the past, but could never come up with something important enough to me to mark permanently on my body. “How many tattoos do you have?”
Perry drops his head, watching me trace his tattoo with my index finger. He doesn’t pull away or tell me to stop, so I don’t. It’s like I can’t. His skin is so warm. “A few.”