Sparkling white confetti flies around us, landing softly in the snow-covered ground.
Poppy and I are both laughing by the time we reach the end, and we take the wooden stairs back up the hill until we’re concealed by the evergreens.
She turns to face me, and I sweep my arm around her waist, pulling her close.
And because I’m still thinking about the sweet, minty taste of her mouth, and because all I can think about is havingmore,I kiss her again. She kisses me back in that tender way of hers before pulling back.
“What are you doing?” She says in a whisper. “The wedding is over. We did it.”
“Just in case,” I answer. “You never know who might be watching.”
I wink at her, and she glances around and then smiles, because she realizes what I already knew.
We’re completely alone.
“That was quite the performance, wife,”I say to Poppy once we’re back to my place, and I shut the front door behind us. The peace and quiet is welcome after the party that raged all night in the grand room of the castle-like hotel.
“You weren’t too shabby either, husband.” Poppy leans against the wall and bends down to slip off the white satin heels she changed into after the ceremony. “Do you think people bought it?”
Poppy wanders into the kitchen and takes a glass down from the cabinet before pouring herself some filtered water from the fridge. The glow from the fridge lights up her profile in the dark, highlighting the most beautiful parts of her features. The ski-slope line of her nose, the pillowy outline of her mouth, her long, dark lashes.
“It sure seemed like they did.” I follow her and do the same, taking a big gulp of the cool liquid. I don’t think I’ve had any water today–just champagne. While I drank it mostly to ease my nerves, I’m now a little buzzed, energy fizzing inside me. “Now it’s just a matter of what story the media decides they want to tell.”
“Were any reporters there?” Poppy asks from across the kitchen island, she’s now leaning her hip against it.
“Of course,” I answer. “Brooke would have made sure of it. They were likely told to remain incognito for the sake of the wedding fanfare, but they were there.”
“What story do you think they’ll tell?” She asks.
I straighten and lean on the counter behind me.
“I think they’ll tell the story about a stunning bride, that no one could take their eyes off of as she walked down the aisle. Whose voice shook when she tried to say her vows. Maybe they’ll talk about how the groom looked into her eyesbefore he kissed her, and how when he did it seemed like he wanted to ravage her right then and there.”
“It’s a good story.” A light twinkles in her dark brown irises, her gaze pinning me in place for a moment before she finally says, “I’m so tired. I should get to bed.”
I nod in agreement. It’s been a long day.
The satin skirt of her dress swishes around her as she walks towards the hall, toward the guest room. I’m glad she’s back here, at my house. She’s made herself right at home, and I can’t help but feel like she belongs.
I follow close behind her, heading toward my room further down the hall. I’m wiped out from the day, but still, all my senses are homed in on her. The pearl pins in her hair, the floral fragrance she’s wearing. The memory of her soft, sweet mouth.
When will I get to kiss her next? After my next event in two days? My heart thumps, beating out two syllables that clang around in my mind.
Too long.
Poppy turns to me, one hand on the doorknob, ready to open it and disappear inside. But she doesn’t.
“Can you help me with my dress?” She asks. “I won’t be able to reach all the buttons.”
I think about how transfixed I was doing those buttons up, how difficult it was for me to keep my mind in line as my fingers grazed the smooth skin of her back. How much more difficult it will beundoing them.
“Sure,” I say, and I trail her into her room.
She’s only stayed here a few nights over the last couple weeks, but already there’s something different about the room. It’s the way she’s draped her clothes over the chairin the corner, the way she’s brought her wool blanket with her and folded it at the end of the bed. It’s hersmell,sweet and floral.
She turns around, standing at the end of the bed, and dipping her head so I have better access to the buttons. I start with the top one, and work my way down, until slowly the white lace of her lingerie is revealed.
Lower, and lower, I undo those delicate buttons. All the way down to the curve of her spine, the two dimples on her lower back.
