“What do you think of christening one of these small, sacred rooms we like so much?”
Bran reached back, blindly locked the door, and lifted her onto the bathroom vanity. He slid his hands up her legs and beneath her dress. “This is why I love you. Your brilliant ideas.”
Ireland tugged at his tux jacket and yanked it down his arms, then went to work on his shirt.
“You don’t need to take all this off for us to get busy,” he said.
“I need to see my man’s hot body,” she replied.
He sent her a crooked smile and helped her take his shirt off, hooking it on the doorknob. “Admire all you like, but your dress is coming off.”
And that was how they ended up naked in the second-floor bathroom.
Bran kissed her breasts and slid his fingers up her legs. “You’re wet for me.”
He was a naughty boy. “So, so wet,” she said.
Bran growled and nudged her legs apart. Then he scrambled for his tux pants and pulled out a foiled wrapper. Within seconds, the head of his erection entered her, filling her body.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He kissed her cheek, the lids of her eyes, and then her mouth, right as he went in all the way to the hilt. “Not more than I love you. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
She tilted her head back, feeling him deep inside her. “You’re forgiven. Now get back to work.”
Bran wrapped his arm behind her, supporting her weight, and tilting her to just the right position.
This countertop sex hit some sort of internal erogenous zone, because before she knew it, she was panting and clinging to him on the brink of orgasm.
Bran leaned her back farther, supporting her with his strong arms, and licked her nipple over and over. Then he sucked.
That did it. Ireland’s orgasm hit with the force of a truck. Her body convulsed, her mind drifting somewhere into the clouds.
She heardand feltBran shake with his own release moments later as she slowly came down from the clouds.
Ireland kissed the top of his head while his face was planted in her cleavage after he’d collapsed on top of her in a post-sex stupor. “That was fun.”
“Hmm.”
More monosyllabic words. She’d give him time to recover.
They clung to each other until Ireland feared her butt would forever hold the imprint of the countertop ledge.
They dressed, and Bran was eyeing her ass.
“Don’t start that again,” she said.
“What? I missed you,” he said. “Can you blame me?”
She slipped on her heels then fell into Bran’s arms, where she belonged. “No. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.”
They returned to the wedding reception, no one the wiser, and danced the night away with friends and family.
Bran held Ireland’s hand and smiled whenever their eyes met, the most delicious secret just between the two of them.
“Good,” Adam said, approaching them from the side, Hayden slipping off to chat with someone else.
“What do you mean, good?” Bran said.
