Her lithe body flowed into him. She tucked one hand in his and wrapped the other around his neck, a tremulous smile on her lips. “This hasn’t been a very traditional wedding.”
“Depends on whose tradition.”
She laughed throatily and curled tighter against him. “We’re making our own?”
“We could.” He smoothed a strand of hair from her flushed cheek, curbing the impulse to pull the pins out of her hair and sift his fingers through the silky mass. Soon, he thought. “We’ve got a lot of years ahead of us. We should make the best of it.”
Her beautiful smile fell away, and her lashes swept downward in an attempt to hide her emotions. But he knew she was thinking about their conversation about keeping secrets. God, he could give her anything but the truth, a shocking revelation that could easily tear apart the fragile vows that bound them. Coward or not, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Wanting her to forget everything but them, he swept a hand down her back, ran that same hand over her bottom and squeezed. Her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes flew open, wide with arousal. Her soft sigh rolled into a quiet groan of need. In an instant he was hard and aching.
Tipping her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, he lowered his head and captured her parted lips in a deep, openmouthed kiss that she returned fervently. Her fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck, and she clung to him. A raging need pounded through him, threatening the tight rein on his control. With effort, he ended the kiss and set her away from him.
They both gasped for breath, but he managed to catch his long enough to say, “If we don’t stop now, we’ll be on that couch making love with half our clothes still on.”
Looking dazed, Megan dragged her tongue over her bottom lip, still damp and swollen from his kiss. He suppressed a groan and the urge to follow through with his threat.
“Megan,” he warned thickly.
She smiled at him, a vixen smile that beckoned and cajoled. “I…I think I’ll go change,” she whispered.
Her sultry invitation was clear, but he didn’t follow her into his bedroom, opting instead to give her some time alone to prepare for their wedding night.
Half an hour and two glasses of champagne later, he entered his bedroom. The lights were off, but the room glowed from the five candles she’d lit and placed on the nightstand and dresser, giving the room a romantic ambience. The sweet scent of vanilla permeated the air, swirling around his senses like a potent aphrodisiac.
She’d turned down the bed, the bedspread folded neatly at the end of the mattress and crisp sheets pulled aside. Already she’d made her mark on his bedroom, having moved her clothes and personal belongings there that morning.
He heard a sound behind him and turned. His mouth went as dry as dust as he stared at the apparition in front of him. Nothing in his wildest fantasies came close to setting his blood on fire as the sight that greeted him.
This was no fantasy. Megan was a flesh-and-blood woman, sexy, sensual and tempting. She wore a silky peach nightie that reached mid-thigh, the flowing hem flirting enticingly as she shifted on bare feet. He dragged his gaze up, over the shadowed valley at the juncture of her thighs to where sheer lace cupped and molded her breasts.
Her hair spilled around her shoulders and shimmered like burnished gold in the candlelight. He nearly groaned at the sweet promises in her gaze. In that moment he selfishly wanted to take everything she was willing to give. And he hated himself because he had nothing to give her in return. His heart was empty, his soul too full of dark secrets to ever be redeemed.
But tonight he didn’t want to disappoint her. Tonight he’d be everything she wanted him to be, if only for a few hours.
“C’mere,” he murmured.
She moved forward, a hint of vulnerability passing over her features, and stopped an arm’s length away. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d changed your mind.”
Not a chance, sweetheart. “I took our wedding vows seriously, and I meant what I said about a divorce. Until death us do part.”
Her head tilted. “I mean about a marriage of convenience.”
He laughed and slowly circled her. “I’m just a man, Megan. And like any man, I want my wife.”
Standing behind her, he cupped her smooth shoulders in his palms and turned her so she could see their reflections in the dresser mirror. He slid his hands down her arms and grasped her hips, tucking her bottom against the ridged length confined behind the zipper of his slacks. He heard her soft indrawn breath, and a smile tugged his lips.
“Nervous?” he asked, his mouth skimming her ear.
“A little.” She shivered and rested her head on his shoulder, her back arching when his palms moved over the silk covering her belly. His warm, searching hands stopped just beneath the slope of her breasts, his fingers spreading wide over her rib cage.
Her breathing deepened. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah, for me, too,” he admitted. Nuzzling her neck, he continued to explore the dips and curves of her body through silk, deliberately avoiding all the places he knew ached for his touch.
“I’m hardly a virgin,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide and unfocused in the mirror. “But, well, it still feels like it’s my first time.”
“It is your first time,” he said, turning her to face him. “With me.”
“Yes.” Reaching for his hand, she pressed a damp kiss in the center, then leisurely dragged his palm down her throat. Her needy, unguarded gaze burned him to his soul. Brazenly, she pressed his hand to the full, taut swell of her breast.
His fingers flexed around the soft mound of flesh, and her nipple hardened. “I’m yours, Kane,” she whispered, candlelight and emotion softening her gaze. “Any time you want me.”
His heart gave a crazy little leap. “That’s quite an invitation.”
She stared deep into his eyes. “As your wife, I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy.”
Lifting his hand from her breast, he rubbed the coarse pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “Anything?” The possibilities of such a generous overture aroused more than his interest.
An intoxicating combination of trust and desire welled within the bottomless depths of her eyes. “Yes.”
“Take the nightgown off for me. Slowly.”
The shock he’d been expecting never materialized. Instead, his wife surprised him with her sassy, very husky comeback. “I wore it for you. You take it off.”
He chuckled ruefully. Megan would never be one of those meek, docile wives who obeyed a husband’s orders. No, her candid, no-holds-barred attitude was the reason they were married-she was strong-spirited, determined and damned sexy while doing it. In some ways her straightforward approach scared the hell out of him. Now, alone in his bedroom, it excited him beyond his wildest dreams.
Wanting to beat her at her sensual game, he lifted her hands and placed them on his chest. Her touch singed him even through the cotton of his shirt, and his heart responded with a distinct thump beneath her palm. She looked at him, questioning eyes filled with heat and undisguised passion.
Knowing once he removed that flimsy gown he wouldn’t be able to maintain his control, he brought her fingers to the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll take your nightgown off after you undress me.”
Her mouth curled in a smile so full of seduction he knew he was in trouble no matter who undressed who first.
Yep, big mistake, he thought seconds later, after she’d pushed his shirt off his shoulders and her lips found that sensitive spot just below his ear. She worked his belt loose and lowered his zipper. Within seconds she’d swept off his clothes, her hands caressing every inch she exposed until he stood completely naked before his wife.