“Patience is a virtue.”
“I’m not patient or virtuous.”
His body was ridiculous. Broad shoulders. Defined arms. The tattoo over his ribs that I’d traced a hundred times.
He reached for something on the nightstand. A single rose from the bouquet.
“What are you doing?”
He brushed the petals across my cheek. Feather-light.
Down my neck.
Over my collarbone.
I trembled.
The rose circled my breast. Spiraled inward. Grazed my nipple.
My back arched off the bed.
“I thought you might like that.”
“Cole. Please. I need…”
“I know what you need.” He trailed the rose down my stomach. “But I’m going to make you wait for it.”
“That’s cruel.”
“It’ll be worth it. Plus, that’s marriage.” He brushed the petals across my hip. Down my thigh. “You signed the paperwork. No take-backs.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
He traced the inside of my leg with the rose. Up. Down. Never quite touching where I needed him most.
“If you don’t stop teasing me, I’m going to…”
“What?” He looked up, eyes wicked. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“I don’t know. Something.”
“Promises, promises.” He tossed the rose aside. “Besides, I think you like it when I’m in control.”
My breath caught.
He stood. Unbuckled his belt. The sound of metal and leather made my mouth go dry.
His pants hit the floor.
The bulge in his boxers was obscene.
“See something you like, wife?”
“Get over here.”
“So bossy.” But he crawled onto the bed. Prowled over me like a predator.
His mouth found my neck. My collarbone. The curve of my breast.
