“That is more than generous. I appreciate your willingness to accommodate me, Mr. Boyd.”
“Enough talk of business,” Jillian complained. “It is time to cut the cake. My first task as a wife shall be to feed my husband.”
Penelope handed the knife back to Jillian, who strode forward with it like a spear maiden to battle. Now that thespeech and playful taunting was done, she had no further interruptions, quickly removing a slice and placing it on her palm.
“It seems you already have me eating out of your hand.” Lewis smiled and took a bite as Jillian lifted the cake to his lips.
It was decadent in a wholesome, earthy sort of way, its nut-rich sweetness coming from honey rather than the usual sugary layers of icing.
Jillian took a bite next and returned her syrupy fingers to Lewis to have another. The last morsel was hers, and she began to lick the stickiness from her hand. Lewis reached out and claimed her wrist, drawing her fingertips to his mouth and slipping them inside. He slid his tongue across her sweet skin, savoring the flavor of his beloved bathed in honey.
Her cuff had slid back, the fine hairs on her forearm standing up as his touch thrilled through her, the pink of her cheeks deepening as blood rushed to the surface.
Lewis held her eyes with his own, letting her know he felt it too. That he wanted more. That he wantedher.
“Our guests…” she murmured.
“They hardly know we exist.”
“The cake…” she reminded him. But her heart was not in it.
Lewis took the knife gently from her other hand and passed it to Pen. “Cut the rest for us, will you? We wish to retire.”
“It’s the middle of the day, Lew,” his sister commented.
“It’s my wedding day,” he answered softly, lest the raw desire be heard in his voice.
Penelope hesitated a second, then nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Lewis took his wife’s hand and led her through the crowd, who made pockets of room for them as they proceeded toward the staircase. They raced up the stairs before anyone might seethem escape, arriving at the door of their room, breathless and laughing silently.
Jillian leaned against the door. “Aren’t you going to carry me over the threshold?” she asked, her hands gripping his lapels and tugging Lewis closer.
Without another word, Lewis fumbled for the handle behind her and swung the door open. Twisting down, he scooped his wife into his arms and stepped into the room.
Jilly slipped slowly to the floor again but did not step away. Instead, she tilted her head back, exposing the soft flesh of her neck. The last semblance of his resistance crumbled. Lewis splayed his fingers through her hair, cupping her head as his tongue found the hollow between her clavicles and followed the upward curve of her throat.
His heel pushed back. The door closed with a soft click. The bolt was drawn. They were alone at last.
