"It can wait."
"Roman, we can't disappear from our own reception." She's so cute when she protests, but I'm getting my way.
"We're not disappearing. We're stepping out." I smile at her and press a kiss to her cheek as I whisper in her ear, "Come with me, Mrs. Kuzin."
She rolls her eyes, but she takes my hand and I pull her up from her chair. Timur catches my eye from across the table and raises an eyebrow, and I ignore him and walk Mila toward the side door, one hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the gap between tables while guests reach out to touch her arm and congratulate us as we pass.
We slip through the side door into the hallway beyond it. The noise of the reception drops by half as soon as the door closes behind us, and I walk her down the hall past a coatroom and a service entrance until I find the door to the small room where Timur and I dressed before the ceremony. I push it open, pull her inside, and close it behind us.
She turns to face me. Her belly is round beneath the white gown, her father's ring resting on a gold chain against her chest, and a few strands of hair have come loose from the pins and are falling against her neck.
"We have three hundred people out there," she says.
"I don't care about three hundred people." I cross the room, take her face in my hands, and kiss her. Not the polished kiss I gave her at the altar or the performance kisses for the clinking glasses. This one is mine. My mouth opens against hers and my hands slide into her hair, pulling pins until a section falls against her shoulder. She grabs the front of my jacket and pulls me closer and kisses me back with a hunger that makes every rational thought in my head go dark.
Her mouth opens against mine and her tongue slides against my tongue. I groan and pull her closer by the waist. She tastes clean and warm, and her hands are fisted in the front of my jacket, pulling me toward her while my hands slide into her hair. Pins loosen as my fingers move through it, falling to the floor as sections of her dark hair drop against her neck and shoulders.
"You're destroying my hair," she murmurs between kisses.
"I told you that you look better with it down," I say, smiling against her skin. Then I drag my mouth from her lips to her jaw, then down the side of her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her pulse point. She tilts her head to give me room. Her breath catches when I scrape my teeth over the spot below her ear.
"Roman, we can't do this here."
"We're already doing it." My hands leave her hair and travel down the sides of her gown, tracing her hips, the curve of her belly, the tops of her thighs through the satin. She shivers when I run my palms back up the outside of her legs, dragging the fabric higher as I go.
"Someone could walk in."
"There's a lock on the door."
"You didn't lock it."
I reach behind me without looking and flip the deadbolt, grinning. "I did now."
She laughs against my mouth, so I kiss her harder, raising my hand to cup her breast through the bodice of the gown. Her breasts are fuller than they were months ago, more sensitive. Irun my thumb across her nipple and she gasps, arching into my hand.
"They're so sensitive now," she says.
"I can tell." I do it again, slower, circling the nipple outside the fabric. "Does that feel good?"
"Everything you do to me feels good." She reaches between us and presses her palm flat against the front of my pants where I'm straining against the zipper and rubs. "Does that feel good?"
"Your hand on my cock feels so good I can barely see straight." I push my hips into her palm. and she squeezes, making my jaw clench. "If you keep doing that we're not gonna make it to the part where I'm inside you."
"Then let's get to that part." She undoes my belt while I gather the front of her gown in both hands, pulling the silk up her thighs in fistfuls until it's bunched around her waist. She's wearing white lace underneath and it's intoxicating. I slide my hand between her legs, pressing my fingers against her panties, and the fabric is soaked through.
"Hmm, you want me to," I purr, nipping at her collar bone.
"Well, that's why I married you, isn't it?" Mila smiles as I hook my fingers into the lace and pull it down her thighs, letting it fall to the floor. When she steps out of it, I lift her onto the edge of the table, settling her on the wooden surface with her gown pooled around her waist and her bare legs parted on either side of my hips.
I slide two fingers through the slick heat between her legs. The sound she makes is music to my ears, resonating deep in my chest as pleasure. My fingers glide through her folds, finding herclit, and I press down and start circling while I watch her face change.
"How does that feel?" I ask against her ear.
"Don't ask me questions right now. And don't stop moving your hand."
I circle faster, pressing harder. She grabs my forearm with both hands to hold me in place. Her hips roll against my fingers, her head drops back, and I kiss her exposed throat while I work her clit with steady pressure.
"I want to make you come before I fuck you," I say against her skin.
