It was a ring that only Ben would give her. A symbol of their love, which had changed over time, yet remained steadfast in its essence. A love between two souls meant to be together.
“My darling, determined Livy, who never gave up on me…will you be my wife?”
“Yes,” she said through her clogged throat. “Yes, please.”
He rose, slipping the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit.
“I love you.” The words left them both simultaneously.
They laughed. Then they kissed, touched by the wonder of two solitudes joined as one.
40
Ben carried his bride over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind him.
“You’re mine,” he said with infinite satisfaction.
Livy smiled at him. “At long last.”
He couldn’t agree more. Although their six-week engagement was one of the shorter ones on record, it nevertheless felt like an eternity since he’d had Livy all to himself. The Strathavens had loosened the rules, allowing him a few private moments with his fiancée; this had resulted in several steamy interludes, including one at an arachnid exhibition. As sweet as those times had been, Ben had yearned for more than furtive snippets of time with his beloved.
Now he had his wish. Livy was his duchess.His.
Wonder expanded his chest…and his cock.
He set Livy down by his bed, marveling at her beauty. When she’d walked down the aisle of majestic St. Paul’s toward him, his breath had stuttered. She’d been a queen in her frothy white gown embellished with lace, her hair a shining coronet studded with pearls. She’d kept her jewelry simple: the crown he’d given her nestled in the hollow of her throat, the delicate spider ring upon her finger. She gazed up at him now as she had then, with adoration in her verdant eyes, reinforcing that he was the luckiest bastard alive.
And also the randiest.
Throughout the wedding luncheon hosted by her parents, Livy had flirted with him, teasing him with sultry looks and naughty caresses under the table. Now the minx was going to pay for her tricks. He took her soft, pink mouth in a demanding kiss. She wound her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him. Her enthusiasm was all the lovelier for its underpinning of feminine need.
Knowing the cause, he hid a private smile.
He murmured against her lips, “Have you been a good girl for me?”
“Yes.” Blushing, she added, “All week, like you instructed.”
The pout in her voice made him harder.
“Patience makes passion sweeter.” He drew a finger down the column of her neck, feeling her silken shiver in his balls. “And there’s no need to rush. We have all night.”
“I am not going to last all night,” she protested.
At the reversed text, he had to laugh. His bride knitted her brows, looking adorably confused. With her confident ways, he sometimes forgot how innocent she still was. It would be his pleasure to corrupt and cherish her for the rest of their lives.
“That is not somethingyouneed to worry about, sweeting,” he said. “Women don’t have to last. As we’ve proven on numerous occasions, you can find pleasure again and again. Whereas men need a recovery period in between rounds.”
She slid an ingenuous glance at the bulge in his trousers. “Even you?”
“Keep looking at me like that, and we shall soon find out.”
“Promise, sir?” She fluttered her lashes at him.
His duchess was becoming an accomplished tease. Since she only flirted with him, he didn’t mind. The sizzling sexual undertones made their banter even more fun.
“Turn around and hold onto the bedpost while I undress you, brat,” he said.
He didn’t miss the way she trembled at his strict command. She obediently wrapped her fingers around the dark post, reminding him of their other encounter in his bedchamber, one he’d spent many long nights fantasizing about. Now she was here, and he would never have to sleep without her again. The notion fired his heart and his loins.
