Tenderness and awe squeeze my chest. He draws his lower lip inward, and I know that he’s as moved as I am by this moment.
That he feels this connection between us. That this is more intimate than when he placed the ring on my finger. That's what tradition dictated. I touch the chain again. This is for us. This is our secret.
One I wear with pride. “I love you so much.”
His features light up. His throat moves as he swallows. “Those are the most beautiful words I have ever heard.”
My heart stutters. My pulse thrums. This feeling of being so in sync with him is intense. It’s perfect. It’s everything.
"Kiss me.” I lift my chin. “Please.”
His eyes flare.
"You don’t get to direct what I do. But this once, because you begged for it so prettily…" He grips my jaw to hold my face and presses his thumb into my lower lip, so I open my mouth.
When he feels I’m positioned for maximum pleasure, he swoops down and closes his lips over mine. Hard and soft. The firm press of his mouth against mine, the velvety softness of his tongue, the hard clasp of his fingers on my chin, the gentle rub of his thumb over my cheek, the hardness of his chest molding mine, the firm hold of his other hand on the nape of my neck.
I’m aware of every single place where he’s touching me, though my focus is completely on where our mouths and lips and tongue meet.
He must reach some internal breaking point, for he draws me up to my tiptoes, plasters me to his torso so we’re smashed togetherfrom chest to groin, to thigh. Then, he releases his hold on my jaw to wrap his thick arm around my waist.
He bends me over, so my back is curved, and I’m suspended over his forearm. I’m forced to part my legs for balance. He instantly moves his hips between my thighs. That thick rod at his crotch throbs through the clothes we’re wearing, branding my lower belly.
The sensations zip up to my collar and seem to heat the metal.
It feels like he’s marking me all over again. Then he sucks on my tongue, and my head spins. All other sensations coalesce into this one touchpoint, spiraling into a vortex that sucks me in. Cinches all my emotions into the feeling of his mouth on mine, his lips crushing mine, the way he seems to swallow my taste, swallow me whole.
I’m but a speck in this universe, and he’s the force that powers it.
He groans into my mouth; a shudder rolls over him. Then he slowly gentles the kiss. Millimeter by millimeter, he releases my lips. Until he’s barely sharing my breath. Then he straightens me gently, pressing his forehead to mine in that affectionate gesture I love.
His massive chest rises and falls like he’s run a mile. He eases his hold on me, so he’s holding me in the circle of his arms but without pressing me to his chest. He begins to sway, and me with him. It’s gentle. Soft. Heartfelt.
Like we’re dancing to our own internal music. I sigh. And melt into him further.
I place my cheek against the crisp material of his shirt, drawing in lungfuls of Brody.
He notches his knuckles under my chin.
I raise my eyes to his. The lust I see in his makes my breath catch. “The party. Won’t we be late?”
EPILOGUE
Lark
Keep reminding myself: perfect isn’t the goal, magical is.
—From Lark’s Christmas to-do list
We areverylate.
We didn’t leave until there were only a few hours left to close out the year.
And not until my husband made me almost orgasm… Twice. He brought me to the edge, only to pull back.
Then he straightened my clothes…still without fucking me.
Argh! I can’t believe he left me this needy, but he smirked when he saw the disbelief on my face. “I promise, it’sgoing to be worth it when you finally come. At midnight.” He kissed me firmly, then led me out of the house.
