He grinned, bowing his head to kiss me.
My heart raced as his tongue slipped past my lips, seducing me with slow licks. His fingers slinked into my hair, pulling free pins and clips, letting the black strands cascade into a mess on the sheets. Once every decoration and slide was free, he massaged my scalp, dislodging a few remaining petals from the rice and flower confetti.
“As much as I love you in this dress, I think it’s time it disappeared, don’t you?”
I nodded.
Jethro was mine in every possible way. He would continue to need me. I would continue to need him. We were no longer on our own but a partnership, lovers...a family.
The stress of the wedding left my bloodstream, relaxing my shoulders into the springy bed.
His hands slipped behind me, rolling me onto my stomach as he set to the task of undoing fifty-two pearl buttons down my back.
The panels of lace decorated my skin, revealing the muscles of my spine and risqué glimpses beneath. I didn’t think I’d have time to sew something so delicate, but it’d been cathartic for me to sketch and create something so stunningly simple but intricately beautiful.
Goosebumps erupted as Jethro’s knuckles brushed my skin, slowly releasing me from the gown. Half-way down my back, he swallowed a groan. “Goddammit, I want to rip this off you. This is taking far too long.”
I laughed into the sheets. “You rip it and I’ll make you fix it. Patience is a virtue, husband.”
His touch halted. “What did you call me?”
I looked over my shoulder. “Husband.” Loving the way his eyes hooded, I breathed, “That’s what you are now. Husband.Myhusband.”
His mouth parted, dangerous darkness stealing over him. “Say it again.”
I didn’t care my dress was only half undone, I rolled onto my back, slipping beneath his inert hands. “Husband.”
His gaze dropped to the front corset of my gown. “That word makes me hard.”
The spaghetti straps slid off my shoulders, tickling my skin. “How hard?”
“So fucking hard.”
“Show me.”
He gulped. “Show you?”
I nodded, reaching for his tented slacks. “I want to see.”
Darting out of my grip, he climbed off the bed, a slow burn building in his gaze. “Whydo you want to see?”
Coyness slipped into my blood. He wanted to play? I could play.
Sitting up on my knees, I struggled against the imprisoning nature of the silk layers and licked my lips. “Because it’s mine and I want to see what my marriage has bought me.”
His hands fisted. “Boughtyou?”
“Uh huh.” The conversation turned anchor-heavy with want, sinking through the yacht to the seabed below. I’d never been so needy, so ready for sex. I wanted him desperately, but at the same time, I loved the anticipation, the building joy that we could touch whenever we wanted but chose a little self-denial.
Jethro’s hands flew to his belt. Never taking his eyes off me, he unbuckled the clasp, slipping the black leather from the loops. “If you get to see me, I want something in return.”
“Oh?” My knickers grew shamefully wet. “What’s that?”
Taking a step back, he crooked his finger. “Get off the bed.”
Without a word, I obeyed.
My bare toes hit the soft carpet. My high heels had fallen off as Jethro carried me down the gangway to our room after leaving the party.
