“Not this time,” I say. I grip those lapels a little harder. “He won’t tear us apart, Luke, because we were meant to find each other. We crashed into one another before we were supposed to meet because fate put you at the club that night.”
“I don’t believe in fate,” he says. “But I do believe in feelings. I haven’t been forthcoming with you, and I apologize for that. I don’t know what admitting this to you will do to us over the next year, but, God, I want it to work. I want to take you to bed. I want to wake up next to you. I want it all. With you.”
I brush my lips to his, finally letting go of his suit jacket to link my arms around him. His body is flush against mine, right where it should be...where it hasn’t been for far too long.
“So why is this suddenly okay?” I ask against his lips, not sure why I’m questioning it but needing the whole truth before I get my hopes up too high.
“Because I’m so fucking tired of pretending. I love you, Ellie. I’m so damn in love with you. We’re doing this all backwards, and I know you’re my wife now, but I’d love to take you out on a date. I want to get to know you as more than just my best friend’s sister, as more than just my roommate, as more than just my publicist.” He peppers soft kisses between phrases.
“Hawaii seems like a nice place to get our fresh start,” I say, and then there’s no more talking.
He kisses me like he did when Manny announced us as husband and wife down on the beach, but this time no one stops us when our mouths open and our tongues brush together.
His grip around my waist tightens, and then out of nowhere, he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me into the bedroom. “Tonight won’t be about palms on windows or taking you from behind. Tonight’s a night to celebrate this new union between us.” He presses a soft kiss to my lips as my heart races and a wave of emotion plows through me.
He sets me on my feet rather than on the bed, and then he spins me around so he’s looking at the back of my dress.
He doesn’t touch it yet—just merely seems to be staring at it. “Is there a lock on this thing?”
I giggle. The layers of lace on top bury the tiny buttons that close the back, and it took Nicki a good five minutes to get them all buttoned up. I didn’t stop to think how I’d get out of it, and especially not with such intense need between my new husband and me.
I’d suggest just going up the bottom and getting busy right here in my dress, but the layers of chiffon and silk will make that a difficult feat.
“The buttons are under the lace,” I say, and he fingers the back until he uncovers them.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters when he sees the sheer number.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
He chuckles as he gets to work. “Don’t be. You look gorgeous. The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen in my life.” I feel the back starting to open as he pushes each button patiently, slowly through each loop. He’s calm and collected while the thought of what’s coming sends nerves through my entire system.
We’ve done this before, but that first time, it was meaningless. This time...it’s not.
“When I first saw you walking down the aisle toward me, I had a feeling this was how our night was going to end. Whether you asked me about my real feelings or not...I was going to confess them.”
Another button through the loop, another thump in my chest.
“It wasn’t just your beauty,” he says, “but the way you carried yourself with such beautiful, calm, simple grace.” He presses a kiss to the small gap he’s made as he keeps progressing down the buttons. “It was the way you stood up beside me and I felt like we could face anything together. And we did. We faced my family. We faced Michelle.” He slips another button through. “Done,” he says with another soft kiss to my back, and he spins me back around.
I slip his jacket off his arms, and it falls into a pile on the floor. I unbutton his shirt, my fingers shaking as I make slow progress. He’s patient as I work, and he sets to unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. He sets the cufflinks on the dresser behind him as I get to the last button, and then I slide his shirt down his arms and it falls on top of the jacket.
I take a minute to stare at his abs.
Holy shit. I’m married to those.
For the next year, at least.
And now that he’s confessed how he really feels, I’m going to enjoy every damn minute of this union.
CHAPTER 4
He slides the straps of my dress slowly down my arms, and it drifts from my arms to the ground. My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he can see it beneath the white lace lingerie set I wore under the gown just in case.
I’ve wanted this to happen again since the first time, and now that it’s actually happening, I’m a nervous wreck. It’s a mixture of will it be as good as the first time and oh my God we’re really doing this and holy hell we’re married now.
The fear that I somehow won’t be good enough for him is real and tangible.
He stares at me for a beat, and the self-conscious side feels like he’s studying me. “So perfect,” he murmurs, and then moves in toward me and presses a kiss to my neck. “I love you, Mrs. Dalton,” he says.
“I love you, too,” I say on a moan as his lips move from my neck down into my cleavage. He’s moving slowly, deliberately, with love and tenderness—something missing from the first time we did this. It was savage and hot and fiery. There was no fear of what tomorrow might bring because it didn’t matter when it was just supposed to be for one night.
But something brought us together. He might not believe in fate...but I do.
We were meant to find one another ahead of time. We were meant to have this history between us as we traveled on our journey, and maybe we’re at the destination now. Maybe this is where our happily ever after begins.
It might be naïve to think that way, but it’s what I’m choosing to believe tonight.
He sweeps me up into his arms and carries me to the bed, his lips finding mine as he moves the short distance, and if that’s not a damn fairy tale Prince Charming move for the books, I’m not sure what is. He lays me down gently and moves so he’s hovering over me. His eyes burn into mine for a beat, and then his fingertips run down my torso, landing on my thigh. He settles between my legs, still wearing pants, and he thrusts his hips toward me as he buries his face in my cleavage.
A little moan escapes me. As good as this feels, I want him. All of him. I want our clothes out of the way, and I want him pounding into me as I lie beneath him. I didn’t get to feel his warmth over me the first time. I didn’t get to look into his eyes, to watch his handsome face screw up with pleasure instead of his reflection in the window.
I’m not missing those things this time.
His lips land back on mine, our tongues battering together as he continues thrusting his hips to mine, both of us moaning as the frenzy between us builds to nearly unbearable levels, an ache pressing between my thighs as needy moans escape me.
He stops abruptly and stands, unbuckling his belt and lowering his pants and boxers. He stands naked before me for only the second time, but it’s incredible how different the feelings are this time. I won’t need to scrub away the guilt in the morning.