He stroked her and groaned deeply, obviously realising she wasn’t lying. “We’ve got to slow down,” he said hoarsely. “Why don’t we lie on the bed for a while and—”
“Plenty of time for that later.” She began to fumble at his belt.
“Honey! Jeez.” He tried to stop her.
“Please, Dex.” She pushed his hands away, finished undoing the belt and unpopped the button.
“I wanted to take it slow,” he said desperately. “The first time. Make it last, make it good.”
“It’ll be good whatever,” she said, “and next time we’ll take it slowly, I promise. But I’ve got to have you now or I’m going to explode.” And that’s how it felt—her heart pounded, and every nerve ending was on fire for him.
She undid the zipper, pushed down his boxers and released him. He swelled in her hand, clearly as eager as she was.
“Lift me up,” she whispered.
“To the bed?”
“Here.” She raised her skirts and, as he obediently picked her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist.
He pushed her back against the huge window and let his lips hover over hers. “Are you sure?
“God, yes, Dex…please.”
She felt the tip of him part her, and then he slid into her. Her head fell back on the glass, and she bit her lip at the exquisite sensation of having him inside her at last.
He kissed her neck, her jaw, up to her lips. “Okay?” he murmured.
She opened her eyes. The moonlight fell across his face and turned the tips of his hair silver. He was like a movie star, so handsome it made her catch her breath, and he was hers. Her husband. He’d chosen her out of all the women in the world. It made her want to cry.
But she just whispered back, “Okay,” and so he began to move inside her, long, slow, delicious thrusts that soon had her sighing and begging for more. She slipped her hands into his hair and pulled his mouth to hers, and he groaned and thrust harder, faster.
Her senses spun. The warm room made the spicy smell of his aftershave rise from his skin, and he tasted of whiskey. His innate masculinity overwhelmed her, flooded her with a dark urge to possess him, to please him, to succumb to his fierce desire.
She moaned as he continued to kiss her deeply, filled with the knowledge that this intensely passionate man knew exactly how to tease pleasure from her, to guide her toward the outcome her whole body ached for and had yearned for since she first met him. At that moment, she realised she was completely his, and with that came the final abandonment. She’d promised herself to love him forever, and now she gave herself over to him, body and soul.
In what seemed no time at all, her internal muscles tightened and clenched around him, and she cried out as the blissful sensations overtook her. He crushed his lips to hers, fierce and possessive, before finally giving in and letting his own climax sweep over him. His body tightened beneath her hands, and she opened her eyes and watched him, loving every moment of his pleasure, loving that she was the cause of it.
Finally, his body relaxed and he opened his eyes to give her an amused, remonstrative look.
“Bad wife,” he said, lifting her off the glass.
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
Another wry look. His trousers now around his ankles, he shuffled across to the bed and lowered her down before gently withdrawing, then bending to pull his trousers back up, tucking himself in. Honey lay back amongst the rose petals, sighing, her muscles still trembling. “That was nice.”
“And that was the understatement of the year.” He walked over to the table and came back carrying the tray with the strawberries and two glasses of champagne. Placing it on the bed between them, he climbed on beside her and stretched out. “It was fucking amazing.”
“Dex!”
“Well it was. Tell me it wasn’t, then.”
She smiled lazily and turned on her side. Propping her head on a hand as he had done, she let him feed her a strawberry. “Touché.” She nibbled the end of the strawberry, and he brought the other half back to his mouth and ate the rest, smiling at her. She felt warm right the way through. This was how it would be from now on. Sharing everything. She wouldn’t be alone anymore.
She started talking about the day, and they lay there for a while, sipping champagne and eating strawberries, discussing their favourite parts of the wedding, whether the guests had enjoyed themselves and how nice the food had been. She didn’t mention Cathryn and neither did he. There wasn’t much to say anyway. Hopefully that was all done and dusted now.
After a while, the room grew warm and Honey grew tired.
“I think it’s finally time,” she said. “Help me out of the dress?”
She stood, and Dex came to stand behind her and undid the row of tiny pearl buttons at the back of the bodice. Slowly, reluctant to take off the dress she’d never be able to wear again, she let it slip to the floor and stepped out of it. Then she lifted it and placed it over the chair, giving the skirts one final smooth before turning to face him again.
A giggle stole from her lips at the look on his face. “You like?” she said coyly, giving him a twirl. She wore a strapless lacy bra, garters and stockings.
His eyes met hers, desire flaring in them. “I do.”
She walked up to him and began to undo his waistcoat. “Your turn now.”
They undressed each other leisurely, removing the garments piece by piece until they stood naked in front of each other. She unpinned her hair and let it fall, and he separated the blonde curls across her shoulders.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands skating over her skin.
She shivered, her nipples peaking, and turned and lifted the tray onto the bedside table before drawing back the covers. “Let’s get in bed.”
She’d dreamed about the first time they would make love, about seeing him naked, but this was her greatest fantasy—sliding onto the soft mattress, pulling the covers over them and pressing herself up against his young, warm, strong body.
“This is just heaven,” she whispered as she ran her hand down his chest and traced the defined muscles there and in his shoulders and arms. “I think I’m dreaming.”
“I don’t think we can have the same dream.” He brushed his hand down her back, over her hips, along her thighs. “I wish this night would last forever.”
“Me too.” She slipped her hand into his hair and kissed him. He kissed her back, gentle and soft.
After a while, she pulled away. She cupped his face, brushing his cheek with her thumb. Was something bothering him? She felt as if he was holding back somehow. She’d felt it from the moment they came into the room. He’d given in a little when they first made love, but now it had returned—a reservation, as if he was worried about moving too fast, or doing something she didn’t like.
My husband, she thought. How could she convince him she wanted him more than anything in the world?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Once again, doubt flitted through Dex’s mind. Honey looked tired. Was she just doing this for him? Because he hadn’t mentioned going to sleep? He was terrified of asking her to do something she didn’t want to do. He’d hate her to say yes just to please him. And he hated himself for being worried about it, but he didn’t know how to get over this hurdle.
She stroked his cheek. “What’s the matter?”
He shook his head. “You look tired. Do you want to just go to sleep? We’ve got the rest of our lives to explore each other.”
She studied him and pursed her lips. “Dexter Concannon, you finally get me into bed and all you want to do is sleep?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t think what to say to that.
Her eyes twinkled. “If I don’t have you at least twice more before we doze off, I’ll be very disappointed.”
He smiled, but still couldn’t shake the fear that Cathryn had lodged at the back of his mind. Fury filled him. She was spoiling the moment without even being there. What kind of powe
r did she have over him?
Honey brushed her thumb across his lips. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course,” he said, helplessness and despair washing over him.
“Did you think I got upset over the things Cathryn said because she scared me?”
Puzzled at the question, he thought about it. “Maybe,” he concluded. “I wouldn’t want you to think that we had to do all those—”
She pressed her thumb to his lips, halting his words. “I wasn’t scared,” she said softly. “I was jealous. Overwhelmingly, passionately jealous. Enraged. Infuriated.”
He blinked. “Oh.”
She moved a little closer to him and hooked her leg over his hips. “You see,” she continued huskily, “I’m absolutely crazy about you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. But I don’t just want a little piece of you—I want a hundred percent. I want everything.”
He had no more love and affection left to give but, wanting to please her, he said, “Okay.”
She brushed her lips against his. “I need you to know—everything that you’ve ever done with another woman, to another woman, I want you to do to me.”
Her words made him inhale in shock. He lifted his head to stare at her.
“And I’m not just saying that,” she murmured. “Ian and I—we were black and white compared to the Technicolor I know you and I could have together. I want passion, Dex. Desire. I don’t know how to describe it because I’ve never had it before, but that’s where you come in. I want you to show me everything. I want you as many times as we can manage it, in every position, everywhere in the house, every which way you like. I want to fill your mind with memories of me, and only me. I want us to have good, loving sex, and bad, wicked sex.” Her eyes glittered in the moonlight. “A hundred percent, Dex, no holding back. Do you understand?”
Their eyes met and held for a long, long moment.
Then he slid his hand down to her butt, lifted her to change position, and pressed himself slowly into her. She closed her eyes and groaned as he filled her up.
“That’s a very dangerous comment considering you have no idea how wicked I am,” he murmured, kissing her cheek, her eyelids, and finally down to her mouth as he began to move inside her.
“I think I can guess some of the things you’d enjoy,” she whispered back, moving with him.
“Oh?” Hunger flooded him for this sensual, beautiful woman, but he kept a tight rein on it for the moment, nuzzling her ear and kissing around her jaw to her mouth. “Like what?”
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Like tying me up.” She opened her eyes to look at him.
He held her tightly against him, turned her onto her back and moved on top of her. “But then you’d be at my mercy,” he murmured, pushing deeply into her.
“Oh God, yes.” She arched against him.
He took her hands in his and pinned them above her head. “You like the sound of that?”
“Mm.” She moved her hips, encouraging him to thrust harder.
He kissed her, deliberately slowing his pace. “But then I could do anything I wanted to you, and you’d be powerless to stop me.”
“Ooh, you know how to turn me on.”
He chuckled and dropped his head to her breast briefly to brush his tongue over her nipple. “What else is going on in your naughty little mind?”
She squirmed beneath him. “I don’t know. Maybe I could…um…” She whispered a suggestion in his ear.
He lifted his head and stared at her. “Honey!”
She giggled. “What?”
He started laughing. “You little minx. I never knew you had it in you.”
She kissed him. “So now you know, what are you going to do about it?”
He pushed deeper into her, love and desire filling him. “I’m going to make love to you until we’re both exhausted and can’t keep our eyes open. And then I want to cover your body with kisses, to get to know every inch of your soft skin.” He kissed her. “I want to make you come with my mouth, to taste your sweetness. And then I’ll make love to you again, until you’re dreaming about me, until you can’t think of anything or anyone else.”
“Oh yes. Yes, please.”
“I love you, Honeysuckle Summers.”
“I love you too.”
And he did as he’d promised, taking her to the dizzy heights of ecstasy before starting all over again, loving her until the moon sank in the sky and the rays of the early morning sun flooded the room with light.
Epilogue
Daisy stood in the semi-darkness of the corner of the room, finishing off her glass of champagne. The wedding was wrapping up, the DJ playing his last few songs, the caterers starting to clear away the wine glasses and beer bottles left on the tables.
It had been a lovely day. Partly marred by the appearance of Dex’s old girlfriend, but that had been expected and as such hadn’t been a huge shock. He’d dealt with it swiftly, to be fair to him, and the rest of the day had passed without a hitch.
He was obviously crazy about Honey, she thought, not without some envy. She’d caught him looking at his new wife several times throughout the evening, longing and desire in his eyes as they followed her around the room, and if she talked to another guy—even if it was just a friend—he would frown with the kind of possessive jealousy that gave a girl goose bumps.
No doubt Honey was getting screwed senseless right now. Again, envy threaded through her. Not because of Dex—she liked him, liked the way he seemed devoted to Honey, but he wasn’t her kind of guy. Dex didn’t give a toss about his appearance, couldn’t care less whether the T-shirt he wore had a designer label in it, had had to be bullied into using product for his hair, and although he wasn’t an idiot, he was interested in rugby, fishing, watching movies and being with his girlfriend, with no desire to better himself, to climb the social or educational ladder.
Reuben, on the other hand, fitted all of those requirements, which was why she’d chosen him, of course. He always dressed as if going to an important business meeting, even at the weekend, more comfortable in shirts and ties than T-shirts, and she didn’t think he’d ever worn a pair of flip-flops in his life. His hair was always impeccable, his face clean-shaven, his nails neatly manicured, and he worked out at the gym so his body was beautifully sculpted. He was an investment banker so he knew a thing or two about figures, and he liked art and classical music. He was filthy rich and happy to share it, and he seemed into her. He was perfect.
So why didn’t she feel the spark whenever he was around?
She sipped her champagne listlessly. He’d come to the wedding because he knew it was important to her, but she knew he hadn’t enjoyed himself. He’d been impressed with the food and the location where Honey and Dex took their vows, but otherwise he’d thought it a small, rustic affair. Only a hundred guests? There’d be a thousand at their wedding, he’d assured Daisy.
Not that he’d asked her to marry him. But she thought he probably would. They’d been dating for a while now, most of that time spent in Auckland. He’d made no effort to get to know her friends and family, nor would he. They held no interest for him, and he thought their conversation dull and parochial, their lives meaningless because they weren’t constantly trying to better themselves.
He hadn’t exactly voiced the opinion, but she thought he might despise her father, who’d spent all the money from the sale of their property in England on an old, rambling house on the outskirts of Kerikeri with no intention of doing it up or making money from it. And the café—although probably the most successful small eating place in Kerikeri and flourishing so much he’d had to hire extra staff—was hardly a top class restaurant. She’d seen the way Reuben turned up his nose when they first walked in, unimpressed by the yellow-and-white-check tablecloths, the wooden furniture, the lack of chrome and mirrors, and the haphazard menu, which basically consisted of whatever the girls and Cam felt like making on the day. He’d acknowledged the coffee was prett
y good though.
He’d sat through the wedding meal and the speeches, sighing and occasionally checking his BlackBerry, laughed at the band—who were friends of Koru’s playing well known rock songs rather than an upmarket jazz band—groaned at the DJ’s choice of music, and generally irritated her until she’d snapped and told him if he wasn’t enjoying himself, perhaps he should just go to bed and amuse himself in their room.
So he had. He’d just walked off and left her, choosing cable TV and the mini bar over her company, and she’d sat and fumed for the past hour, unable to believe she had nobody to dance with, envious of Honey’s obvious happiness and near to tears because it felt like everything was going wrong and she didn’t know how to put it right.
She closed her eyes. She should go up to bed and join him, but she didn’t want to. He’d either turn over and give her the cold shoulder, or he’d act like nothing had happened and make love to her, and she’d have to comply or risk upsetting him further. And that was the last thing she wanted, because he had the ability to sulk for weeks like a spoiled four year old if he didn’t get his own way.
A pressure on her arm made her open her eyes and look up. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she saw it was Chase standing next to her. He didn’t look at her, watching instead the couples turning slowly to the music, but every cell in her body reacted to him, the hairs rising on the back of her neck, a shiver running up her spine, her nipples tightening beneath the silky plum-coloured dress.
She’d been conscious of him watching her all evening. Part of her had wondered if he’d come over when Reuben disappeared, but he’d kept his distance, and she’d been annoyed that she’d been annoyed by it. Not that she could blame him. She’d made it perfectly clear—on numerous occasions—that they were over and she’d never go out with him again in a million years. Usually, he ignored that directive and pestered her repeatedly, but for once that evening he’d steered clear, and she had to admit she’d missed the attention. He wasn’t the perfect boyfriend—far from it, and he’d driven her nuts while they were together. But he would never have left her alone at a party.
Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) Page 17
