“I’ll take my shower now,” he stated opening his bag and removing what he needed. “Do you need anythin’ before I do?”
“No, I’m fine,” she replied, going to the window and opening the drapes. The lights of Paris seemed to mesmerize her, and he left the room. Twenty minutes later, he returned freshly shaven and showered to find her in the exact same spot.
“Go and get ready for bed now, Maeve,” he said, regretting it sounded like an order when she looked at him with a crestfallen expression. Heavens, a body would think he’d ordered her to undress and spread her legs so he could take his pleasure.
Wearing only silky pajama pants, he opened the champagne as soon as she disappeared into the bathroom with her bag. He flinched when he heard her click the lock. Sighing, he took her spot at the window, wishing his mother had not only sprung for a king-sized bed as she should have, but a balcony as well. It would be lovely to feel the evening breeze. When they arrived in New York, he would see if he could upgrade their room at the Plaza.
He wondered just how patient he should be with his bride. He’d been slightly shocked when she asked him earlier if he planned on spanking her. Was she expecting it? Did she need it; a demonstration of his authority over her, a sample of what would happen if she didn’t obey him? That very morning she’d taken a sacred vow to do just that, obey her husband, but surely not in that way.
Sean wanted her to come to him freely because she desired him as much as he did her. Physically he was much stronger and within his rights to take possession of her. He had no doubt he could please her in the end, but it would be a piss-poor beginning. No, she had to come willingly or not at all.
Besides, his Maeve was brash and brave. She was full of fire and sass. What she was experiencing now was simply a case of bridal nerves and nothing more. Once the deed was done, she’d likely be more than willing to come to their bed. It was his job,no, his duty, to see she got past this little snag as quickly as possible so they could enjoy the rest of their trip as well as their lives as husband and wife.
Pushing the cart over to the only large chair in the room, he poured two glasses of champagne and took a seat in the big, comfortable wing-backed chair. A few moments later, he heard the shower shut off. The wait after that seemed endless until she finally emerged from the bathroom looking like an angel.
Her long gown was white as snow and nearly transparent beneath the matching robe. Her auburn hair was still damp and dark, hanging nearly to her waist. Sean’s jaw tightened as he fought the urge to go to her and rend the gown from her body with one strong tug at the low cut neckline. He could see her pouty nipples protruding. His mouth watered, and he swallowed hard and cleared his throat.
“You are truly a vision,” he said a bit more harshly than he’d intended.
“Thank you,” she whispered in reply, twisting her hands in front of her.
“Come to me, darlin’,” he said softly, holding out his hand. “Come and try the champagne.”
Slowly she approached, hesitated when he took her hand and made to seat her on his lap. He choked back his groan when she wiggled into a comfortable position and took the glass from his hand.
“Mmm, ’tis good,” she agreed, taking a sip. “Much better than what we served this mornin’.”
“Aye.”
“So you like my gown?” she asked fingering the fragile fabric.
“Aye.”
“T’was horribly expensive,” she admitted. “I spent a good deal of my savin’s on it.”
“You needn’t have,” Sean said. “’Tis lovely, but you could have come out of the bathroom with nary a stitch on and I’d have thought you were just as beautiful.”
“Don’t be silly. Everyone knows a woman is more appealin’ in somethin’ pretty.”
“Not everyone,” he contradicted. “Lord knows ‘tis difficult enough not to ravage you when you’re wearin’ ordinary clothes, my love. In this, ’tis damn near impossible.”
“Really?”
“Can you not feel me beneath you?” he asked. “There are only two layers of thin fabric keepin’ us apart.”
“I feel you, O’Malley. It’s big now, bigger than ever before, and I know you’re goin’ to rip me apart,” she said.
He watched her lip begin to quiver and brushed the hair away from her face.
“And here I thought you were the bravest girl I’d ever met,” he said with a sad sigh.
“I am brave. What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“You’re afraid of a little?—”
“Not so little,” she hissed back, giving another wiggle.
“How would you know?” he teased. “How many have you seen, or felt for that matter?”
