Her voice drops to a whisper. “How could I forget?”
“First, I’d run you a bath with those lavender salts you love,” I say, “And afterward, I would put you to bed still wrapped in that towel. Et puis, I’d take my time unwrapping you again.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” she murmurs. “Maybe we can recreate that scenario once the roads clear.”
“Certain, ma belle,” I promise, my heart aching with how much I miss her. “Count on it. As soon as this blizzard ends, je m’en coming for you.”
Meesha
“Connor,” I gasp, mybraids splayed across the navy pillowcase as he works his magic between my thighs. His fingers slip inside me while his mouth focuses on my most sensitive spot. The man knows every inch of my body like he’s been studying it for years—which he has.
I grip the crumpled sheets, my body tensing with anticipation as his tongue leaves me breathless and desperate for release.
His strong hand grips my hip, steadying me as I begin to tremble. “Right there, baby,” I breathe. The contrast of his pale skin against my mocha thighs is familiar yet still thrilling after all these years.
When pleasure crashes over me, I cry out his name, my back arching off the mattress. Connor doesn’t let up, drawing out every last tremor until I’m boneless and breathless.
As I float back to reality, he moves up my body, pressing kisses along my hip, my stomach, my collarbone. The medallion hanging from his neck brushes against my skin. His hardness presses insistently against my thigh.
“Babe,” I manage between breaths, glancing at the clock on the nightstand, where our wedding calendar shows “14 DAYS!” in bright red letters. “Kamal’s birthday party. We’re already running late.”
Instead of answering, Connor slides inside me. I inhale, my body instantly responding despite my protest.
“Connor,” I whisper again, but this time with no resistance in my voice. My hands find his back, tracing the muscles there.
“Je te veux,” he murmurs against my neck. “Ten more minutes, ma belle.”
I surrender completely, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him deeper. His rhythm is steady and strong, exactly what I need. The weight of his body on mine, the scent of his skin, the taste of his kiss are overwhelmingly right.
When he shifts, hitting that perfect spot inside me, I feel another wave building. “Don’t stop,” I plead, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Jamais, never stopping, ma belle,” he promises, his voice strained with restraint.
The second orgasm hits even harder than the first, leaving me calling out his name. Connor groans as my body tightens around him, his movements becoming sloppy until he finally surrenders, collapsing against me with a satisfied sigh.
We lay tangled together for several blissful moments, my fingers lazily tracing patterns on Connor’s back while his breath steadies against my neck.
“We really should get up,” I murmur, though I make no immediate move to leave his arms.
“Five more minutes,” Connor bargains, nuzzling deeper against me.
I laugh, extracting myself from his arms. “That’s what you said twenty minutes ago.”
Reluctantly, I slide out of the bed, gathering my scattered clothes. Connor watches appreciatively as I slip into my underwear and reach for my plum wrap dress.
“Are you sure we can’t miss it?” Connor asks, still sprawled across the rumpled sheets. “This party is very last minute.”
I toss his jeans onto the bed. “Up, Beauregard. We promised Antonio we’d be there.”
With an exaggerated sigh, Connor finally rises, pulling on his boxers. As I stand before the mirror applying lipstick, he wraps his arms around my waist from behind, pressing kisses along my shoulder.
“Connor,” I warn, though I can’t help smiling at our reflection. “Behave.”
“Two weeks,” he murmurs against my skin. “May seventeenth. Two weeks and you’ll be Meesha Beauregard..”
My heart skips at the words. Despite everything, we’ve made it here, to the final countdown.
“I can’t wait to be your wife,” I admit softly, turning in his arms.
