CINDERELLA BRIDE

by Monica McLean

  "Silk and lace," Carter echoed with an appreciative grin.

  "Umm-hmm, underneath, too."

  The grin faltered. "Underneath?"

  "You know, bra and panties."

  Carter didn't say anything.

  "Well, I did do that much," she said, averting her gaze.

  "That much when?"

  "Today. At our wedding."

  "You're wearing silk and lace under there?"

  She shivered. Why should it matter what she wore underneath her clothing? Carter hadn't seemed interested in the kitchen. He was just being kind by asking now. "I'd better change if we're going to dinner."

  He swallowed audibly. "You didn't answer the question."

  "It's getting late." She felt herself flush and tried to turn before she gave herself away.

  "Oh, no." He caught her shoulders. "You can't do this to me. You're the one who brought it up. Now it's going to bug me all night. Just tell me and get it over with."

  She shook her head.

  "Come on, Marly. Take pity. Put me out of my misery." His protests reminded her of the children at nap time.

  "Carter King." She poked her index finger into his ribs. "I am not going to tell you what kind of underwear I'm wearing. That's the kind of thing you have to find out when you find out." With that, she crossed her arms and turned toward the windows, hoping he would go away so she could change.

  He didn't. "When am I going to find out?"

  She heaved a sigh. "Whenever you're ready, I suppose."

  "Whenever I'm ready? Marly, I was born ready. I thought you wanted to wait."

  "Because of the nightmares. Because I didn't want you to see me like that. Not because I didn't want to … didn't want you to … us to…" She pointed toward the kitchen. "I just told you I couldn't wait any—" A tug at her waist brought her backside flush against Carter's hardened length, and she stopped short, her eyes widening in surprise.

  "Neither can I," he said in a growl.

  * * *

  Chapter 13

  « ^ »

  Marly gasped at the erotic brush of Carter's body against hers. Her head lolled back as his open mouth trailed hot kisses along the side of her neck, the scrape of a day's stubble wreaking havoc with her senses.

  His nimble fingers worked the buttons of her linen suit free, and he slipped the jacket from her shoulders. Seconds later, the skirt pooled to the floor alongside it, and she stood wearing only the matching silk-and-lace bra and panties.

  "Marly," he breathed against her neck. His voice sounded like gravel spread with honey, and it sent a ripple of waves crashing through her body. "You did wear silk and lace after all."

  She should have felt more nervous, more hesitant, but her need for him surpassed all else. She wanted only to touch and to be touched, wanted only to feel and to be felt. She wanted her husband. Against her, inside her, in ways she couldn't even begin to name, only feel. And whatever she felt spiraled through her with a deep and growing hunger.

  "Yes," she whispered, leaning against him. The contours of his body, rugged and sturdy behind her, were infused with the most gentle strength she'd ever known.

  After the fire, she never thought she could trust anyone again. Not even a little. But Carter proved her wrong day by day and minute by slow aching minute.

  Marly felt suddenly weak in the knees and clutched his arm for balance. She wanted to absorb his strength, this man she had grown to admire and desire, and…

  "Carter." She shook her head to stop her mind from racing into uncharted territory.

  "Hmm?" He circled her waist, anchoring her body to his. His other hand moved to her breast, first one and then the other, grazing the tips until they pebbled and ached for release from their lacy confines.

  She sighed at the sensations racing hot and fast through every nerve ending. "Eight years is a very long time to spend alone," she whispered.

  "I'll make it worth the wait."

  "You already have."

  "Not quite." His hand dipped lower, spanning her flat stomach, and lower still, slipping inside her panties.

  Marly cried out when he touched her.

  "Too much?"

  She shook her head. "Don't stop."

  He didn't, but gently pulled her back with him, until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, her bottom pressed against him.

  Carter squeezed a dusky nipple, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. The sound of her labored breathing made his own pulse race. The air stilled in his lungs as he parted her thighs.

  Her panties were already moist, and she writhed against him, her head thrown back to expose the creamy expanse of her neck. He couldn't resist the invitation.

  He couldn't resist her.

  He bent to taste her neck, his fingers plunging deeper and deeper inside her. He'd never wanted a woman as desperately as he wanted Marly. Never.

  She was so real, so genuine. She made him believe in things he'd stopped believing in long ago, made him hope for things he had no business hoping for. She inspired him to dream.

  "Carter," she cried, grasping his thighs.

  She tumbled over the edge quickly, splintering apart in his arms. It was the most incredible turn-on of his life. He wanted to take her like this, her soft breasts nestled in one hand, her womanhood in the other. But he held himself perfectly still, allowing her the time she needed to regroup.

  After a minute, she rose from the bed and turned into his arms. Her eyes appeared slumberous, like a kitten awakening from a nap, and he grinned at the sight.

  She smiled back with the expression of a satisfied woman and trailed her fingers along his jawline and over his lips. Then her expression slowly changed, and her hands lowered to his already loosened tie. She pulled it from his collar and discarded it along with her other clothing, then unbuttoned his shirt and added it to the growing pile.

  "Take this off, please." She tugged at his undershirt, and he complied. "Thank you."

  Her hands splayed over his shoulders, then drifted along his chest, blazing a fiery trail of need in their wake. Her knuckles grazed his belly. His heart skipped a beat when she moved to his belt buckle.

  Carter stilled her fingers. "What are you doing?"

  "Trying to undress you."

  He swallowed. "Just checking."

  Her gaze met his, wavered a bit, then steadied. "I want to make love with my husband now, if that's okay."

  He nodded, figuring that was him, and this was inevitable, but his voice sounded strangely hoarse when he tried to speak, and the only intelligible words that came out were, "Uh, it's okay with me."

  God almighty. He was the president of a regional bank. He served on numerous boards. He was quoted in the newspaper all the time. Could he possibly have said anything more lame? Carter realized that for the first time in his entire life he felt like a complete idiot.

  "Carter? I need you to show me how, okay?"

  "How what?"

  Marly unbuckled his belt and pulled it free, then lowered her hand to him.

  The muscles of his lower body contracted in violent, involuntary response to the contact, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

  Marly jerked her hand back. "Was that good or bad?"

  "Good," he responded automatically. He almost replaced her hand, but didn't need to because she did it herself.

  "Good." She rubbed against him, stroking him through the material of his suit pants. "I want you to show me how to do to you what you do to me."

  Streaks of heat shot through his nervous system, until he was shaking like a man in the grip of a fever. "I don't think you need any help."

  "But I do. I need you to show me how to make you feel like the entire world is spinning out of control and it's the best ride of your life." She kissed his shoulder, her petal-soft lips working up the side of his neck. When she got to his ear, she whispered, "Show me how to make you feel like you're the most desired man in the entire world, and that I lo— I want you beyond reason."

  "Marl
y," he gasped, as her tongue touched his earlobe, her words threatening to ignite a wildfire that would damn near incinerate him. For a split second there, he'd almost imagined she had said love. But that wasn't possible, wasn't part of their agreement, and he told himself he didn't want or need to hear that word anyway.

  "Show me."

  Carter rose from the bed and drew her hard against him. She molded her body to his in equal measures of surrender and seduction, accepting his mouth with a throaty sigh. He deepened the kiss, savoring the hot, honeyed taste of her and the sweet smell of flowers after a rainfall.

  He was acutely aware of the press of her nipples against his chest and the wisp of fabric that still served as a barrier. In one deft move, he remedied the situation.

  Had a woman been created expressly for him, she could not have fit his palms any better. He cupped the weight of her breasts and bent to take a nipple into his mouth in slow, sensual possession. Marly moaned and threaded her hands into his hair.

  Soon, the remainder of their clothing joined the pile on the floor, her silk-and-lace panties atop his white cotton briefs. He slid his arms around her back, arching her against him, and trailed his mouth down the side of her neck. He felt her pulse beneath his lips, and the furious beat both satisfied and excited him.

  He picked her up in his arms, holding her tight against him, then set her down on the bed, covering her body with his. His fingers trailed down her body, grazing the curve of her breast, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hip.

  "I need to be inside you, Marly," he whispered, his mouth brushing the sensitive skin beneath her ear. "I need to know you're mine."

  Marly thought she would suffocate from the longing he evoked in her, that she would never get enough oxygen into her lungs to satisfy her hammering heart. Never in her life had she been drawn to a man the way she was to Carter. Never had she wanted another man as she wanted him.

  "I need you, too," she said, her voice not much more than a strangled plea.

  He shifted her beneath him, parting her legs so that he rested against her, the heat and hardness and need of him. She reached down and stroked his length, hesitant when he shuddered.

  "That's good, right?"

  "Too good." He reached for her hand and moved it to his shoulder. He pulled her legs up around his hips and eased inside her, just a little bit at first.

  She winced, and he paused to allow her time to adjust to him. She forced herself to relax.

  "Okay?" he whispered. At her nod, he inched a little more. The flexed muscles in his arms looked like bands of steel supporting the weight of his body, and his jaw was taut with strain. "Tell me if it hurts too much."

  She bit her lip, not wanting to tell him, not wanting to lie to him. She pressed her head back into the pillows, rationalizing "too much" was a relative term.

  Her fingers tightened on his arms as she clung to him. He seemed to know exactly how far to thrust before he retreated, and instinctively, her own body joined in the rhythm. Back and forth, they moved ever so slowly until the last trace of discomfort vanished, and their bodies became as one.

  "I'm yours," she murmured in a voice full of wonder and awe.

  Carter took a deep breath and then went still, burying his face against her neck, threading his fingers into her silky hair. "I've waited a long time to hear those words."

  They savored the moment together before they started to move again, first gently and then not so gently.

  The sensations that surged through Carter's body were as foreign to him as another language. Tenderness, need and a raging excitement battled in his veins. He never wanted the feeling to end, knew, even as he grew mindless, that he'd found something he hadn't even known he'd been looking for all his life.

  In giving him her body, Marly was giving him so much more. This incredible act was so much more than the slaking of physical desire. He wanted to tell her that, but the words wouldn't come. So be kissed her and touched her and made love to her, telling her without words, telling her in the only way he knew how. Until she cried out, and he joined her. Then together they lay in mindless oblivion.

  Afterward, he rolled over, taking Marly with him. She collapsed on his chest, their ragged breaths mingling for a second or an eternity, Carter didn't know which. His fingers skimmed over her back, memorizing the curves and hollows that made up his wife.

  His wife. Would the wonder of those words never fail to overwhelm his senses?

  "Carter?"

  "Hmm?"

  "There's something you should know."

  "I know." His hand traced lazy circles over her back. "I haven't done this in a while, either."

  "I haven't done this … ever."

  Carter froze, his eyes boring into hers. "You weren't a virgin, Marly," he said, but he couldn't keep a note of suspicion from creeping into his voice.

  She looked away.

  "Marly?"

  "Hmm?" She trailed her hand down his chest.

  He covered it with his to prevent further descent. "Marly, come on. Don't distract me. I have to know."

  "I'm glad you couldn't tell."

  "Couldn't tell what?"

  "You're my first, Carter."

  "But what about John?"

  Marly's mouth went dry. "John who?"

  "Your college boyfriend of two years."

  She stiffened, her entire body suddenly rigid. She almost stopped breathing altogether, though her heart clamored a turbulent rhythm she was sure Carter could hear if not feel.

  "Hey…" He crooked his head to the side. "Don't look so worried. I'm not going to be jealous of a guy you haven't seen in ten years." When she didn't say anything, he added, "Okay, not too jealous." Silence. "Well, maybe just a little jealous, but it's only natural. I mean, you're my wife now, and I… Marly?"

  She exhaled and gave a poor attempt at a halfhearted smile. "I—I wanted to wait for my wedding night. I guess I had a lot of stupid ideals back then, about how it was supposed to be between a man and a woman."

  "No." Carter brushed his lips over hers. "They weren't stupid ideals. They weren't stupid at all." He shifted and nuzzled her neck. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you. I promise."

  "I know you will. You're my husband now."

  He closed his eyes, but even then, he saw her. Her image burned behind his eyelids every second of every day. She was so beautiful. So very beautiful.

  He didn't deserve her. But she was his. And God help him, he would cherish her until the day he died.

  "Carter?"

  He opened his eyes. While he watched, she kissed her fingertips and brushed them over his lips.

  "From this point forward, we forget about the past. We're going to make our own past. Together, beginning now. Deal?"

  "Deal."

  "You're my first. And you'll be my only."

  Something tightened deep in his gut. He didn't want to give it a name, let alone acknowledge that it existed, so he kissed her, instead, then kissed her again. It wasn't long before he wanted her again, just as he knew he would.

  Marly gave a throaty chuckle. "Again?" she whispered, trailing her hand down his chest, this time reaching her target.

  Yes, he wanted to answer. Yes, please. Again and again.

  "You're insatiable, Carter. It's uncouth." Eva Ann's quips played like a broken record through his mind. He wanted to tune it out, but the voice spoke the truth.

  Only, he wouldn't give in to it.

  He had to be strong. His future with Marly depended on his willpower. Their pasts were dead and buried, but he had to make sure he didn't resurrect his own.

  He caught Marly's hand and kissed her one last time. "Not tonight, sweetheart. You're still tender. I don't want to hurt you."

  She acquiesced with a sigh, and he drew her closer, tucking her head under his chin. She fell asleep within minutes, stirring a few times in the night, while he lay as rigid as a board, afraid that at any moment, he would cross the line between desire and something more.

  He
couldn't let that happen, couldn't open himself up to that kind of pain again. Not with Marly. Certainly not with Marly.

  * * *

  From the window seat in the kitchen, Marly watched the sunrise in the meadow announce the arrival of a new day. Her first day as Marly King. Last night, Carter had helped create her—another name, another identity, but oh, so different this time, like a brand-new pair of shoes made just for her, instead of someone else's she'd had to borrow.

  Maybe it wouldn't hurt so badly to break into these shoes. And maybe, in time, they would fit so well that no one would remember the loaners.

  No one, except for her.

  She had to remember. She could never again forget, as she'd done last night. Serendipity had a nasty habit of running out when least expected.

  "Marly, have you seen my briefcase?" Carter called from down the hall.

  She frowned, then rose from the window seat. "I think you left it in the car. Want me to check?"

  "Could you?"

  "Just a second." Dressed in a cotton nightshirt, she slipped outside and scurried across the driveway in bare feet. "Yes, it's there," she confirmed, closing the door behind her.

  Two seconds later he yelled, "Do you know where I left my shoes from yesterday?"

  "Don't you have at least fifty other pairs?" she teased, reaching for the phone to call Tyler.

  "Yeah, but these are my favorite."

  "Try the floor on my side of the bed."

  "Found them," he bellowed. "What about—"

  "Your wallet's probably still in your jacket. I hung it up in your closet."

  "Thank you."

  After she'd finished talking to Tyler, she placed the receiver in Carter's outstretched hand.

  "Hey, ace. How's it going? Well, of course we're coming to see you this weekend. Is there anything you want us to bring?"

  Marly shot Carter a warning look.

  He straightened his tie and turned his back on her, twisting the cord around his finger. "What kind of books?"

  "Carter…"

  He glanced her way. "Storybooks for Miss Marly to read? Sure, I think we can manage that. Anything else? No? Okay, well, we'll see you soon." Carter hung up the phone and placed a finger over Marly's lips before she could say anything. "He wants you to read him some stories this weekend."