She’s slid out of her heels, making her about four or five inches shorter all of a sudden. Her lipstick is gone, yet her lips look just as full and kissable.
She’s meeting my gaze even as her breathing deepens.
She’s serious.
I start toward her, the silence between us loud and rife with more tension than ever. I stop in front of her, for a second peering down at her as if in study.
Then… very slowly, I cup her heart-shaped face in my large hand and bow my head to give her a kiss on the mouth.
For a split second, it’s the wedding kiss all over again—she’s still against me, not responding—then her lips move against mine. She answers my kiss by leaning into it, and just like that, I can’t hold myself back.
My other hand comes up to hold her face. I deepen the kiss, swiping my tongue to her lips, demanding entry. The kiss quickly grows heated and impatient.
I’ve never been a man to savor the moment; I’m the type who dives right in and seizes the moment.
She tastes sweet from the champagne and wedding cake.
It instantly makes me want more. Crave more of her.
Simone proves to be a good kisser, her tongue meeting mine, her lips addictively soft and full against mine. I hook my arms under her ass and lift her up off the ground, walking her into the bedroom portion of the suite.
I set her down on the bed where she lays back, and I use the moment to undo the buttons on my shirt and wrench it off. Her eyes round drinking in the muscles and tattoos that make up my torso. She might never admit it, but she’s attracted to me. Maybe as much as I’m attracted to her.
I easily cover the length of her, kissing her mouth and migrating to her jaw and throat.
She runs her fingers through my hair, her breath sharpening even more.
She’s as turned on as I am.
That much is clear.
I can’t wait to strip this dress off and sink deep inside her. My gorgeous wife who might hate my guts but who I’ll enjoy in my bed regardless. She doesn’t need to like me for this to be pleasurable.
In fact, it’s often more fun that way.
I drop more kisses from her jaw to her throat, licking at the hollow arch. My hand finds the zipper on the side of her dress, and I start dragging it down.
She’s lucky I’m keeping it intact. That I’m not ripping it straight off her or fucking her with it still on.
The zipper’s only halfway down when she squirms against me and pushes at my chest.
“Wait…” she breathes. “I just… I need…”
“Don’t be timid now, princess,” I tease, thumbing the soft curve of her jaw. I grin down at her, some locks of hair slipping to my brow. “I want to see all that fiery passion. All that mouth and attitude you had.”
“You should know something,” she replies, drawing another deep breath. “I’ve never done this before.”
It takes me a moment to grasp what the fuck she’s talking about. I go from thinking she’s being smart-alecky, referencing our wedding and marriage, to realizing that’s not what she’s talking about.
She means…
“A virgin?” I question, cocking a brow. “You?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. Why would you even be?”
“You’re…” I pause for half a second, then settle on my usual blunt delivery. “You’re a beautiful woman—verybeautiful. Usually women like you?—”
“That’s exactly why I am. I’ve had no shortage of opportunities, Callahan. In case you haven’t noticed, I have very high standards and few men meet them.” She’s pushed herself up on her elbows as I’ve leaned back on my knees. Her hazel eyes have darkened to some cross between deep forest green and sepia brown.
