Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Champagne?” he asks, coming up behind me. I can see his reflection in the glass of the window.
“Thank you,” I say, facing him and taking the glass.
“To us,” he says, clinking his glass with mine.
“To us.” It’s getting harder and harder to remember that I hate this guy. That I’m mad at him. “It’s good.” The sip I take is delicious.
“It is,” he agrees.
I take another sip, and then he takes the glass from me. I need to finish that, or I will have a panic attack. The man’s smolder should be illegal.
“I wasn’t done with that.”
“Dance with me.”
“What?” I ask, momentarily confused.
“Is it even a wedding if we don’t have a first dance?”
“I guess not.” He pulls his phone out and fiddles with it. The song playing cuts out, and a new one starts. My favorite song, Anything Could Happen by Ellie Goulding, is playing, but it’s an even sexier remix. “How did you know?”
“Cashel,” he says simply, and I nod.
Then he pulls me close to him. His arms go around my waist, and I put my arms around his neck. Then we move to the music. For three minutes, it’s just him and I. He stares down at me the entire time like he’s memorizing my face. I stare at him too. His beard is full and close to his face. For the first time, I notice he has dark brown eyes, but his right eye has a speck of gold in it. His hand squeezes my ass, and I moan.
The song ends, and another starts. I have to step back from him.
“I’m going to freshen up,” I say, grabbing my champagne flute and moving toward the bathroom. I grab the bag from the floor by the elevator as I go by but stop. “Um…”
“Yes?” he asks.
“Will you unzip me, please?”
“Of course,” he says, coming toward me. His knuckles graze my spine as he moves the zipper down the track. He peppers kisses across my shoulder blades, and goosebumps pop up on my skin. I hold the dress up awkwardly since my hands are full.
“Thank you. I’ll be right back,” I say, scurrying away. I close myself in the bathroom and let the dress fall to the floor. I set my glass down on the counter as well as the bag. I step out of the dress. The pretty white bra and panties I’m wearing are next to go. I stand and stare at my naked body in the mirror. Opening the bag, I dig into it and find a white silky robe that barely covers my kitty. Oh well, this is as good as it gets. I pull the clip from my hair and fluff it up. Okay. I don’t look terrible. I down the rest of my champagne and use a complimentary toothbrush and the toothpaste wrapped in plastic on the counter.
Semi-satisfied, I walk back into the main room and find him immediately. He’s taken off his shoes, socks, jacket, tie, and shirt. He’s just wearing the tux pants. Fuck.
“Fuck,” he growls, coming toward me. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I reply, feeling like he actually means it.
“Come,” he says, taking my hand. He leads me to the bed, which faces the big windows across the room. “Take your robe off.” His voice is barely restrained. I like what that does to me.
Slowly, I untie the belt and let my robe fall open. He sucks in a breath, and so do I. Will he reject me at this point? He reaches for me, pulling me closer to him. His fingers flutter over my Dory tattoo. He grins at me and shakes his head. Then he leans into me; I think he’s going to kiss me, but at the last second, he buries his face in my neck. I pull the robe off, letting it flutter to the floor silently. He stays that way long enough for me to remark on it.
“Dorian?” I question.
“I want you so fucking badly, Matilde. I…”
“What?” I ask, pushing him away from me a little so that I can see his face. He looks torn. Conflicted. Sorry?
“I don’t want you to resent me for the rest of our lives. You can stop this. You’ll still be my wife, because I won’t let you go, but you control this moment.”
“I do?”
“Yes. What do you want? Tell me what you want,” he says, reminding me of our time together in the kitchen mere hours ago. My pussy is throbbing. I’ve never felt so unfulfilled before. Again, I am not sure if I’m being tested or not. I don’t want to fail this man’s tests.
Decision made, I brazenly reach for his belt, opening it and then his slacks.
“Thank God, mo ghrá,” he moans.
“What does that mean?” I ask, letting his pants fall to the floor. He steps out of them. His black boxers leave nothing to the imagination. The outline of his cock is huge, and he’s hard. For me? I can’t believe it. I did this to him. Me.