by Traci Hall
He handed her a glass and she waited for him before touching the rims together. She took a deep drink of the delicious dry brut with a hint of pear. He drained his and urged her to do the same. When she was done, they each set their glasses on the long sink and he stood behind her so that they looked at one another in the mirror.
“I look like shit,” she said. The chances of the dress being salvaged were slim. Her hair was plastered to one side of her face and she had a purple-blue eye and dark red cheek. “No wonder they were looking at you funny.”
“I know, right?” Christian lightly caressed her bare shoulder. “How do you feel?”
“Fine. Much better than I look.”
“You look great to me. This is a very sexy gown. Excellent choice.” He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, lightly flicking her skin with his tongue, then kissed her nape, his hot breath behind her ear.
“Silk,” she breathed out—all signs of a headache gone. They knew each other’s bodies. They fit together as if made for one another.
“Not as soft as your skin.”
He turned on the faucet of the stand-up shower that was as big as her office at work and kicked off his leather shoes by the door. She watched him take off his cummerbund and jacket, his shirt and black leather belt. He stepped out of his black trousers and stood before her in snug boxer briefs. Slim-hips, muscular chest and strong thighs.
She took a deep breath. “You are gorgeous. Now get me the hell out of this thing, would you?”
He grinned. “Happy to oblige.” His fingers skimmed down the invisible zipper at her back, the sensual touch bringing shivers to her flesh.
She turned in his arms as the delicate fabric pooled at her feet. She slipped out of the gown in her silver diamante heels, garter and hose. Christian traced the curve of her hip bone with his warm forefinger.
“Babe, you’re the gorgeous one.” His voice made her shiver.
She unhooked her strapless bra and leaned against the sink counter to take off her shoes. He dropped to his knees before her. “Let me,” he said.
Christian slowly unrolled her silk hose down her leg, pausing to press hungry kisses behind her knee cap or at her ankle. His large hands cupped her smooth heel as he nipped her big toe with strong, white teeth.
Steam from the warm shower fogged the mirror. He stood, kissing his way up her leg, skimming over the curls between her thighs, flicking her nipple with his thumb before choosing a body wash and washcloth from the basket on the counter.
“Come with me, Sinead. I’ll do you if you’ll do me.”
“I can’t wait to do you,” she said, her body alive and humming with anticipation.
Christian pulled off his briefs and tossed them onto the pile of clothes in the corner, anxious to be naked and clean and buried in his wife. He paused as he brought Sinead beneath the warm spray. Not wife, yet.
It surprised him that he was bothered that they weren’t married. It wasn’t her fault; he didn’t blame her for what had happened.
But he wanted to call her Mrs. Sharp. And couldn’t.
He had wanted to carry her over the threshold of the hotel room.
Tonight they would celebrate as if they’d tied the knot, but she was right—the good feelings felt slightly off. What would be left to celebrate once they actually went through with the ceremony?
Warm water against his shoulders loosened the tension and he put a slight amount of soap on the washcloth. “Turn around,” he instructed. “Want your hair up?”
She nodded. “Can you help me just wash the front?”
“Of course. Full service husba, well, full service.”
Sinead noticed his slip and frowned.
He pressed his thumb between her brows. “Relax.”
“Don’t hate me,” she said in a soft voice. “We can get married first thing tomorrow. Take our license to the courthouse.”
“Do you want to?” It seemed wrong, after all the planning she’d done, to skimp at the last minute. He might not have been overly vocal about it all, but he’d enjoyed the process.
She looked up at him with mossy green eyes as if he could fix anything. Water steamed and sluiced around them, making her hair curl at the hair line.
Her stitches were covered with a waterproof bandage and he gently pressed the cloth against the dried blood on her porcelain skin.
“I don’t know what I want.”
He stilled, mid-stroke. “What does that mean?”
“I want to be your wife! I wanted a big wedding.” Her eyes pooled with tears and she turned away from him. Her pale shoulders had a dusting of golden freckles but her straight back was creamy skin, untouched.
“We can still have that.” He didn’t know how, but he’d figure it out. Her long neck beckoned. He’d figure it out later.
He ran the cloth over her shoulder, down her spine and her body trembled.
“I feel your disappointment,” she said.
“I can’t say that I am not disappointed.”
“I’d know you were lying,” she said with a quick glance at him. Water from the shower hovered on the tip of her eyelash.
“You always do.”
“What can I do? To make you feel better?”
He nudged his erection to her hip and she laughed.
“Not that,” she said with a teasing smile. “Yet.”
Christian rinsed the washcloth in the spray. “I wanted to share our vows in front of our family and friends. I want everyone in the world to know how much I love you. How great our partnership will be, together. I will be so proud to call you Mrs. Sharp.”
She swiveled on her toes in the slick shower to loop her arms around his neck. Her breasts mashed against his chest and his stomach tightened. He would always want her—just her. Only her.
Some guys didn’t understand what it meant to be committed to one woman. Maybe they hadn’t met the right one. Maybe he and Sinead were damn lucky.
Whatever it was, he didn’t care.
It was the two of them, forever.
“So the courthouse is out.” She kissed him, the hair below her belly tickling his skin. Making him want her right the hell now. “We can plan another wedding. Maybe something smaller this time, so that we don’t have to worry about out-of-town guests.”
“You want to marry me, right?” He slid his hand over the slick skin of her hip.
“Absolutely.”
He knew she was telling him the truth. “Then yes, let’s do it again.”
She kissed him, pressing her body as close as she could. He lifted her against the tile wall and slowly settled her on his erection. Her legs clasped around his waist and her hands clutched his shoulders.
Sinead sighed, her eyes half-closed, a smile of satisfaction on her face.
“I love you, Christian.”
“I love you, Sinead.”
It didn’t matter about her name so much he thought as he filled her and rocked her up against the wall, putting his hand between the tile and her soft backside. Driving into her, deep into her warmth. He lowered his face between her breasts. The hollow at her neck. Captured her mouth. Couldn’t get enough. Closer.
She dug her hands into his hair, stroking, pulling. “Harder,” she whispered.
He obliged as she quickened around him.
Their worlds spun out of control, but he braced them so they wouldn’t fall. “I’ve got you.”
Their heart beats slowed and the water cooled. She ran her hand down the front of his chest, then placed her palm against his heart.
She looked like an injured angel, her auburn hair loose, damp tendrils curling around her shoulders, her skin so white, her eyes luminous and lovely, the bandage glistening.
“We should make a baby.” The thought had hovered at the edge of his mind since the doc had asked the question. If she was pregnant.
Color flushed her throat. “No—not yet. We have to be married first.”
He growled and turned off the water, reaching out to get two big
fluffy white towels from the rack above the counter. “Let’s just go to the courthouse tomorrow.”
“You don’t mean that.” She wrapped the towel around her body, tucking it across her breasts. “You’ve said over and over that sharing our vows in front of friends and family was important. I know how much you want to get started on our own.”
Didn’t she? “You are going to be an amazing mom.”
“We’ve never even had a puppy. How do you know?”
“I just know. I can’t imagine a better mother for my children.”
Her eyes warmed. “Soon. Let’s drink our champagne and enjoy the night. We can start planning our next wedding when we come back from our cruise.”
“You feel good enough to go?”
“Of course. I’ll put some make-up on and try to cover the worst of the bruising.”
“Wear your hair down.” He studied her face. “Maybe you should wear a big, floppy hat.”
“Really?”
“And sunglasses.”
“I could channel Audrey Hepburn.”
“An iconic choice.”
He dried off and tossed the towel to the floor, walking naked out of the bathroom and across the carpeted hotel room to the window overlooking the city. “I never think of Ft. Lauderdale as having a night life.” During the day the high-rise hotels and condominiums gave way to the broad expanse of ocean. “Look at all of the lights!”
“It’s because we’re home-bodies.” Sinead tightened her towel before it slipped below her breasts. “The last time we stayed out until midnight was for our holiday parties.”
“That’s right. I got to kiss you under the mistletoe.”
Sinead laughed and refilled their champagne glasses, looking adorable with her bare toes and wild, curling auburn hair. She brought him a flute and joined him overlooking the city lights, lifting her glass in a salute. “Cheers.”
Why had she been so nervous about getting married?
He didn’t press for answers. Why ruin the mood? He clinked his glass to hers, watching the fizz bubble to the top. “Cheers. Ready to try out the Jacuzzi?”
Chapter Four
Sinead didn’t explain to the crew on the cruise ship that she and Christian weren’t actually married. It was easier to go along with all of the planned hoopla and ignore the undercurrent of being a fake.
She kept her large sunglasses and floppy hat on the entire time, and they had dinner in their room. Romantic and fun, and that way nobody could accuse Christian of being a wife-abuser.
They made a promise to not discuss the fiasco until they’d gotten home and kept their conversation on things like multiple orgasms and someday opening their own business together.
“We are both managers,” she said, lying on the bed in the balcony suite. She wore her short lace negligee and the breeze coming into the room from the ocean ruffled the feathers on the sheer robe. “Who would be the boss?”
At home they had a system that worked—they hired out for maintenance and lawn care, and Saturday mornings they split the inside chores. They sent their business clothes to be dry cleaned, and she did their skivvies and jeans on Saturday while he cleaned out the garbage cans. Sundays were for fun and they chose kayaking or day trips to the Gulf of Mexico. She liked to cook dinners, while he made a mean omelet and loaded the dishwasher.
“We can both do it.” Christian picked up her bare foot and caressed the arch. He lounged on the stuffed armchair next to the bed overlooking the turquoise sea. “I think we should sell the house and work from the cruise ship.” He massaged her ankle and eyed the length of her leg. “The view is exquisite.”
She laughed softly, her back to the ocean as she stared at a briefs-only Christian. Tan chest with the lightest swirl of hair leading down his stomach. “I like my view too.”
“We could buy a farm,” he suggested.
Sinead sat up so quickly she jostled the breakfast tray on the bed. “What? Like, with pigs and stuff?” She scrunched her nose. “That would smell bad.”
He chuckled. “I figured you’d say that, but I wanted to rule the idea out for sure. No animal farm. What about raising vegetables?”
She missed his warmth when he released her foot. “A family garden would be nice. Fresh tomatoes and herbs. We could do that in our little backyard right now if you wanted.”
He gave a half shrug.
“What? You were thinking acres of corn and potatoes? I don’t know, Christian. I don’t see myself as Ma Kettle.” Dirt everywhere, working from dawn to dusk to barely make a living. She shuddered.
“What about fruit trees?” he countered.
“That would be an orchard. What are you getting at?”
His scruffy jaw clenched. “I think it might be nice to have a bigger place for our family, that’s all.”
“We have three bedrooms and two baths.” She crossed her legs at the knee. They had a nice, manageable home.
“And we use all of the space already!” He tugged at her toe but she didn’t let him have her foot again. She needed to think. “Your closet takes up one room, and the other is an office.”
Sinead propped a pillow between her and the headboard. They’d planned on staying in one place, paying off their house and investing in a business. They’d talked about having a family but maybe they were moving too fast. It scared her to think that they might not be on the same page.
“I can clean out the spare room. Donate the clothes I don’t wear anymore.” Sinead could be flexible. Reasonable. “One child, one room. That’s plenty.”
He sat up with alarm. “One kid? We need at least two.”
“At least two?” She put her hand to her flat stomach. “Maybe. I mean, we still wouldn’t have to move. We don’t need an office right now. Or we could set up that space next to the laundry room with a desk and a few file cabinets.” She burrowed back into her pillow. “How many children were you thinking we needed to have?”
“Four would be nice.” He held up four fingers and waggled them.
“Four is insane.” She breathed in the salty air of the open balcony window, suddenly too hot. “Let’s start with one and see how we do. We can talk about four as soon as you’re the one to give birth.”
“Ha ha. Sydney’s got three. She’s happy.” He put his elbows on the armrests and propped his bare feet on the mattress.
“Your step-sister is constantly exhausted.” And she pawned off Suzanne to anybody who would hold the baby for a few minutes.
“Lilly adores you.”
“She’s three. I gave her candy.”
He grinned. “You’ll be a great mom.”
She rolled her eyes and tossed a pillow at him. He usually always got his way when he appeared to give in. Tricky, but she was on to him.
He left the pillow on the chair and moved the empty breakfast tray to the counter, lying next to her on the bed. “We could compromise at three.”
“One.” Slow and steady.
“Have I told you how much I love you today?” He whispered kisses up her arm to her neck and finally her mouth.
“I love you too, Christian.” She put her hand in the hair at his nape. She loved him, and didn’t want to make a mistake. Her mother’s life had been filled with stress and uncertainty and every choice Sinead had made as an adult was to avoid chaos. “Let’s talk about kids more after we get back home, okay?”
He sat on the bed cross-legged and she felt as if he was seeing into her soul. Finally he said, “Okay.”
Sinead leaped from the bed and tackled him backward to the big comfy chair, covering his face with kisses.
Christian pulled into their garage. The honeymoon had been amazing, thanks to their mutual agreement to act as if nothing had gone wrong. Honestly? He woke up every morning grateful that Sinead was by his side with her vision intact. The red bruising had turned to bluish purple, and this morning greenish yellows mixed with the color palette as the injury healed.
He’d done his best to prove his love in many w
ays, he thought with satisfaction. The gentle rocking of the ship had added to the intensity of their lovemaking, which was off the charts.
“Back to the grind,” Sinead said as the garage door closed behind them, leaving them sitting in dim lighting inside the car. “Thanks for everything, Christian.”
He leaned across the console for a kiss. “Thank you. And we aren’t officially back to work until tomorrow.”
“We have to unpack and do laundry.” She opened the passenger door and slid out, her sundress granting him a flash of pert ass before she stood up.
“I’ll bring in the suitcases.” He climbed out of the car as she went into the house via the connecting door, which led into the kitchen.
Sinead’s scream had him running in behind her, his keys in his hand to use as a weapon.
He found her in the living room, her finger outstretched. Unharmed, but wearing a surprised expression. “Oh my God,” she said.
He blinked, realizing there was no danger, and lowered his hand. Three towers of wedding gifts blocked the television and large picture widow.
“Holy shit.” Cardboard boxes, gift packages and silver and gold bags. Christmas on steroids, without a tree. “From the wedding?”
“We have to send them back,” she said, pushing her hair behind her ear, her tone matter-of-fact.
“Why?” There could be some cool stuff in there.
“Well, we didn’t actually get married.” She looked up at him, her eyes questioning. “Right?”
“But we are going to get married.” Did the exact date matter?
“Not the same thing.” She crossed her arms, her opinion on the matter clear in the set of her shoulders.
“It’s a loop hole. The guests ate the lobster and filet mignon.” The wedding had been an event meant to kick-start a lifetime and they’d spared no cost. “I say we keep the gifts. There’s got to be two hundred boxes, or bags.” He sighed. “I hope there wasn’t anything perishable.”
“We’ll have to write thank you cards with each gift we return.” Her eyes took on a glossy look as she went into planning mode.
“What will they say? Thank you, and by the way, we plan on doing this again, so it is definitely okay to re-gift?” He did not understand her logic.
