He lifted his head to look down at her. “You have to let go, Lib.”
She hadn’t realized she was clinging so tightly to him, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go.
He cupped her cheek and whispered, “Trust me.”
But he wasn’t just talking about what they were doing physically. He was asking her to hand him her heart.
He reached up and pulled her hands down, kissing her knuckles and skimming kisses over her wedding ring. Then he lowered her arms to her sides and continued the task of undressing her. He was slow and precise, lowering the dress a few inches at a time, pausing to place kisses on her shoulders, her collarbones, over the swell of her breasts, in the valley of her cleavage. She watched him until she was lost in sensation, closing her eyes so she could enjoy the feeling of him worshipping her.
The edge of the dress brushed over her bare nipples, making them even more erect. Then his mouth found one and his fingers teased the other. She moaned, tangling her hands in his hair.
The dress lowered to her waist, his mouth following, then over her hips. After it fell to the floor, leaving her in a puddle of silk and crinoline, his mouth continued its descent, placing kisses over the band of her panties. He rubbed his chin over her mound and she moaned again. Need coursed through her, stronger than she’d ever experienced it.
He rose and stood in front of her, and as they stared in each other’s eyes, his hands reached behind her and started pulling pins from her hair.
“God, Libby. You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he removed the last pin and her hair tumbled down her back. “I love your hair up, so I can see your sexy neck, but right now I want it down.” He kissed her again, still gentle but more insistent than before.
She realized she was completely undressed except for her panties and her heels, while Noah was still completely clothed. She reached inside his jacket and pushed it over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Breaking free from his kiss, she looked into his dark eyes as they watched her—the expression in them turning her on even more. She was surprised her fingers made quick work of his bow tie, letting it hang loose as she quickly freed his buttons and pulled the shirt free of his pants. She slid her hands inside his open shirt, placing kisses over his chest and the trail of hair leading to the top of his pants. His chest and abdomen were even more gorgeous than she’d imagined. Her hand followed behind her kisses, partially satisfying her need to touch as much of him as possible.
She looked up at him, her breath coming in shallow pants at the hunger and lust in his eyes.
His zipper was undone, so she turned her attention to the still-fastened button. Once it was free, she knelt in front of him and tucked her thumbs into the waistband of his briefs. She slowly slid the fabric of his pants and briefs down over his sexy hipbones, her fingers gliding over his skin. His underwear slid down his erection, and she left open-mouth kisses over his shaft as she made her way down to his scrotum.
When his pants dropped to his ankles, he reached over and put his hands under her arms, pulling her up, her bare chest against his.
His hands were everywhere as he kissed her with a hunger she answered. Then they were on the bed and his mouth and hands were driving her to the brink of madness. He grunted and rolled off her, then practically ran to his suitcase to pull a condom out of his toiletry bag.
When he sank down next to her on the bed, she took it from him and quickly opened the package and rolled it over his shaft, taking him in her hand and stroking. He grunted again and rolled her onto her back, moving over her as he grabbed her leg and wrapped it around his back and plunged into her with one stroke. She cried out in pleasure, arching up to take him. He looked down at her as he took her higher and higher, the hunger in his eyes lifting her even more. They met each other stroke for stroke, a frenzy of passion and fire, need and hunger, until she was sure if she climbed any higher she would pass out from the lack of oxygen. And then she fell apart, letting her love and her need for him overcome her, vaguely aware that he had found his own release. She called his name as she came, wave after wave carrying her somewhere she’d never been before and had never thought she’d ever find.
Home.
Chapter Twenty-One
He stared down at his wife in amazement.
His wife.
Her gorgeous dark hair lay in a puddle on the pillow behind her head. Her eyes were closed as she caught her breath, but they fluttered open to reveal the rich dark brown pools he loved to stare into.
She was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. And she was his. His chest burst with emotion. “That was . . .” How did he describe the most perfect moment he had ever experienced? “I’ve never . . .”
She smiled. “Me too.”
“I love you.” How was it he hadn’t told her yet?
Tears filled her eyes. “I love you too.”
“It seems a little backward to tell you that now.”
She didn’t respond, only watched him with hesitation in her eyes.
“I love you, Libby McMillan. When I told you I’d only been in love once, I was referring to you. I’ve loved you for months. I was just too stupid to see it.”
She lowered her gaze for a moment before her eyes found his again. “I knew it too, deep down, but I was so afraid to lose you if it didn’t work out.”
He shook his head and gave her a soft smile. “You don’t have to worry anymore, Lib. I’m here. I’m yours.”
A shadow of doubt crossed her face, but before he could ask her about it, there was a banging on the door. “That must be whatever Ned was sending up.”
She continued to smile, but something was off in her eyes.
“Lib?”
The pounding continued and she pushed his chest. “You better get that.”
“No. What’s going on inside your head?”
“I’m fine,” she sighed with a soft smile. “I’m just overwhelmed. I never knew it could be so . . . perfect.”
He felt the same way, but he couldn’t help thinking there was something she wasn’t telling him.
“Go.”
He pulled out of her and grabbed his briefs. After throwing the condom in the trash and pulling on his briefs, he opened the door.
“A special gift for you and your bride, Mr. McMillan,” the employee outside his door said. His hand rested on the handle of a room service cart that held a covered plate, a silver bucket with a bottle of champagne, and two champagne flutes. “Although I can see you’ve already gotten started.”
The man started to push the cart into the room, but Noah blocked his path, saying with more force than he intended, “I’ll take it from here.” There was no way this man was coming into the room where Libby lay naked in their bed.
The employee snickered and Noah had an unexpected urge to throttle him, though he had no idea where in the hell that feeling had come from. But he realized it was just another manifestation of his need to protect her from every possible threat, realistic or not. Still, this pervert would have to come through him first to get to her.
The employee had the good judgment to relinquish the cart. “Just set it outside your door when you’re done, Mr. McMillan.”
“Thanks.”
He rolled the cart into the room and stopped short when he saw Libby sitting upright, her legs curled to the side . . . completely naked.
He realized he probably looked like a fool staring at her like that, but not finding it in him to care. “You’re so gorgeous, Libby.”
“You’re not so bad yourself. If they’d sent a woman up with that tray, the sight of those abs and pecs would have melted her.”
“You didn’t melt,” he reminded her.
“Ha! Only because you were already holding me up.” Her gaze moved to the cart.
“More champagne?” she asked with a laugh. “If we tour the country with my wedding dress, we’ll get all the champagne we want.”
“I’ll get you champagne every day if you want it.”
He grabbed the bottle and started working on the wrapper and the cork. “As long as we aren’t toasting to you not kicking me in either of my balls, I’m all for it.” The cork popped off and he held the bottle over the cart in case it spilled out.
Her laughter filled the room and his heart and in that moment he was absolutely certain this was what he’d been waiting for his entire life. Her. “So . . .” he said with a sly grin as he poured a glass and handed it to her. “About those delusions of grandeur you mentioned . . .”
She took the glass. “Are you referring to the foot-long remark at the hotel in Junction City or the little shake insult in the bathroom at the Golden Cowboy Café?”
He poured himself a glass and she patted the mattress next to her. He sat down next to her and leaned in for a kiss. “Both.”
A sparkle filled her eyes. “Let’s just say I have nothing to be disappointed about.”
He held up his glass, his heart filled with more happiness than he knew he deserved.
She lifted her glass to his. “It only seems appropriate that we toast your manhood.”
He burst out laughing, nearly spilling the champagne.
“It’s not nearly as huge as Tito’s but . . . Hey.” She shrugged. “It’s no small thing.” She winked and he grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, deep and passionate. Then she leaned back and hoisted her glass. “It’s not officially a toast until we drink the champagne, you know?”
“Then by all means, let’s finish the toast.” But she didn’t drink when he did. He didn’t have time to ask her about it because she slowly straddled his lap and took the flute from his hand and set it on the nightstand.
He got hard again in an instant and a Cheshire cat grin spread across her face.
“I thought you said we needed to drink the champagne for the toast to be complete?”
She lifted a delicate eyebrow. “Oh, I intend to drink it.” She placed her hand on his chest and pushed him back on the bed while she still straddled his legs.
His heartbeat ratcheted up and his breath became shallow as he anticipated what she might be planning. She held her glass over his abdomen and poured a small dribble of the cold liquid on his chest, making him suck in his breath as it spread across the hollows of the muscles of his abdomen.
Libby leaned over and pressed her mouth to his stomach, licking and sucking up the liquid.
“So we’ve completed the toast?” he asked, his voice strained.
“Oh, no,” she purred, her mouth continuing its task. “We’re drinking to your manhood, remember?” She sat up and poured more champagne on his erection, then set the glass on the table. His erection jolted in response as her lips covered the head and took him into her mouth.
“Oh God, Lib.” He grabbed handfuls of her hair as her tongue and lips sucked and licked, her hand cupping his balls. Within half a minute he was dangerously close to coming again. “My turn.”
He pulled her off him and rolled her onto her back in one fluid movement. Laughing, she started to sit up, but he pushed her back down and knelt between her legs. After picking up his flute of champagne, he poured the liquid on her right breast, letting it dribble down to the hollow of her cleavage.
She gasped and her nipple hardened the instant before his mouth covered it, licking and nipping. She moaned as he licked the sticky liquid down to the pool.
“If we’re toasting my manhood, we need to toast your glorious breasts.”
She smiled. “They’re glorious, are they?”
“You have no idea, do you?” He poured more champagne on the left nipple, his erection throbbing as her nipple pebbled. His tongue lapped at the pool between her breasts and then worked its way up the peak to her nipple. “They’re perfect. Not too small, not too big. They fit in my hand with a little bit left over. They’re soft.” His lips skimmed her creamy skin. “And they are so responsive.” He took her nipple between his teeth and she gasped, her hips lifting on the bed.
“Your observation is based on very little hands-on experience,” she teased as his mouth worked its way down the crest.
“How many times do you have to look upon a beautiful painting to know it’s glorious?” he asked in mock disbelief. “You see it and you know. Your breasts are exactly the same. Perfection brought to life. If I could sculpt, I’d make a statue of your beautiful breasts. Now I have a lifetime to enjoy their perfection.”
He leaned up and kissed her, the taste of champagne on both their lips. She pushed on his shoulders to sit up, but he guided her back down.
“I’m not done toasting yet.”
“I don’t see how you could toast my breasts any more than you have.”
His eyebrows rose playfully. “It’s not your breasts I’m toasting this time.”
Her eyes darkened with desire and anticipation as he picked up the flute and slid down her body. He held the glass over the V of her legs and released a slow drizzle, watching as the trickle flowed over her folds and then leaning down to clean it up with his mouth.
“Noah.”
He looked up at her, his erection getting harder at the sight of her—her head thrown back, her fists gripping the pillow beneath her head, her nipples peaked on her full breasts. He brought her to the edge of an orgasm before she pulled him up and rolled him over onto his back.
“Condom?” she asked breathlessly.
“My toiletries bag,” he answered just as breathlessly.
She left him to get the bag, and it seemed like an eternity before she straddled his legs and ripped open the package. “You need to be more prepared, Noah McMillan. This is your last one.”
“Jesus,” he mumbled in panic. “That will never do.”
She rolled it on him, poised over him. “No. It won’t.” Then she lowered down and took the length of him inside her, moving slowly and purposely, the evil grin on her face telling him that she intended to torture him.
He sat up and scooted them to the edge of the bed. He cupped her delicious ass and lifted her up before bringing her firmly down on top of him again. “I want to kiss this next time. Your ass and so many other places.”
“Yes, next time,” she murmured, her eyes closed and her head thrown back, as she rode him, her movements letting him know she was close to coming. He was sure he’d never seen a more beautiful sight in his life—his Libby, unhinged and wild, taking what she wanted from him. Then she released a cry and moaned his name as her fingers dug into his shoulders and her climax washed over her. He pulled her close and she sagged against him, her forehead resting against his.
He kissed her, gently, softly. Wanting to show her how much he loved her. Adored her. Worshiped her.
He scooted backward on the bed, still inside her as he rolled her onto her back. Moving in and out, slowly . . . all the way in and nearly all the way out, again and again.
He reached his hand between her legs, rubbing her. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”
“As much as I want you?” Her breath hitched, her eyes on his.
Her words triggered something inside him, unleashing a tidal wave of passion and desire.
She locked her legs behind his back as he pounded into her with an intensity that caught him by surprise. Worried he was hurting her, he slowed down.
“Don’t . . . stop!” she gasped out.
Instinct took over and he lifted her hips to drive deeper, inflamed by the feeling of her tightening around him.
She cried out and lifted her hips to take him as deep as she could. No longer able to hold back, Noah came hard and fast. After he caught his breath, he rolled her to her side, facing him.
“You’re going to kill me,” she murmured, her eyes closed.
He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and finally placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. “You are everything I could have ever hoped for.”
“I love you,” she whispered, drifting off to sleep.
Noah held her in his arms, overcome by the knowledge that he had never fathomed what love could be like until he’d held this woman in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Libby awoke on her side, Noah’s stomach pressed to her back. Their nakedness was proof enough that last night hadn’t been a dream.
She was married to Noah. Never in her wildest dreams could she hope to have what she’d shared with him last night. And this was only the beginning of so much more.
She shifted and freed her left arm from underneath his, wanting a better look at the wedding ring.
“We can get you another if you don’t like it,” he murmured, sounding like his mouth was buried in his pillow.
“I love it. It’s perfect. What does yours look like?”
He placed his left palm on top of hers and splayed his fingers so she could see their rings together. “They match.”
“I never took you as a matchy-matchy guy,” she teased.
“Ordinarily I’m not, so don’t expect me to wear matching T-shirts.”
“How about wearing matching shirts with Tortoise?”
“Maybe . . .”
“What about matching Halloween costumes? We can go as Fred and Wilma Flintstone.”
“Only if I get to be Wilma.”
She laughed and rolled over to face him as he propped himself on his elbow to look at her. “Good morning, Mrs. McMillan.”
Happiness flooded her heart. “Good morning, Mr. McMillan.” Then she covered her mouth. “Oh, God. I have morning breath.”
He pulled her hand down. “So do I.” He kissed her, making her forget all about morning breath.
When he lifted his head, she grinned. “Does this mean I can use your toothbrush now?”
“No.”
“We’ve done much more intimate things that have involved the exchange of just as many germs as me using your toothbrush,” she said in a sultry voice.
“Enough of your vixen ways,” he chuckled. “You’re tempting me when you know we’re out of condoms.”
The Wedding Pact Box Set Page 84
