Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Ollie rubbed at his shoulder. “Addie wants me to be nice to Dax.”
“Hmm.” Maggie slid her gaze to me. “I said hi to Dax just now. I must admit, he was very courteous.” Her eyes filled with worry, she gave me a very motherly look. “I hope you know what you’re doing, young lady.”
“I do,” I told her.
She exhaled heavily. “Well, he’s certainly handsome; I’ll grant him that much. Love those peepers of his.” She sighed. “Deacon likes him.”
“Deacon would,” Ollie muttered teasingly. “He likes anyone with an edge of danger about him.”
Maggie smiled. “That is true.”
A short while later, more food was served. People ate and drank and danced and laughed. I couldn’t include my dad or Blake in the latter, but their glowers melted away and they started to enjoy themselves eventually.
It was when I was draining my flute of champagne—I had a nice buzz going on at this point—that Dax appeared at my side and spoke into my ear. “It’s time for us to leave.”
My stomach clenched. His words were practically coated in liquid sex. I met his gaze, finding his own dark with want. Setting down my glass, I swallowed. “All right.”
We said private goodbyes to our nearest and dearest, made our grand exit, and hopped into a waiting limo. The venue had plenty of bedrooms, including a honeymoon suite, but he’d said no to using the latter with no explanation why. Since I wasn’t too bothered and he hadn’t made many demands, I’d respected his wish.
The moment the car doors were shut, closing us in a confined space, the air began to thicken with tension. Neither of us spoke. Or touched. Or even looked at each other.
I rubbed at my thigh, my free hand gripping my clutch tight. It was probably weird that I was nervous, right? It wasn’t as if I was a virgin. Plus, we’d had sex before. Lots of it. We weren’t strangers to each other’s bodies.
And yet, my central nervous system was hyper.
Maybe it was due to the knowledge that the next step would solidify everything. There had been a surreal quality to the day’s events; to the concept of us now being man and wife. Consummating the marriage would make it real.
Or maybe my system was so hyper because he had such a powerful impact on my body. Too powerful an impact. He had more control over it than I did, and that was an unsettling fact.
The closer we got to his home, the more taut the air in the vehicle became. Until my skin prickled and my muscles went tight. Excitement was a fever in my blood, and it took everything I had not to tap my heel restlessly.
Eventually, we reached his home. Exiting the car, I subtly drew in a steadying breath. We entered the villa in relative silence.
“Bedroom,” he said, his voice low and deep, his eyes glittering with intent. It wasn’t an order; it was a declaration that held a taunting pinch of challenge.
Remembering the way, I walked past him and headed for the staircase, conscious of him trailing behind. Fisting my dress, I lifted it slightly so I wouldn’t trip as I ascended the stairs. Even as my pulse went nuts and my stomach kept clenching and unclenching, I went straight into the master bedroom. There, I dropped my clutch on a shelf, moved to the foot of the bed, and then turned to fully face him.
Halting a few feet away, Dax gave me a lazy eye-bang, the glow of possession in his eyes. He tugged off his cravat and dropped it on a nearby chair. “Did I tell you that you look fucking breathtaking in that dress?”
No, but he hadn’t needed to. Dax could communicate so much with a single look. When he felt like it, that was. Other times he’d wear an inscrutable expression that kept you guessing.
He shrugged off his jacket, tossed it on the chair, and then deftly unbuttoned his waistcoat—each movement smooth, fluid, unrushed, ramping up the tension still humming between us.
“Don’t,” he said when I went to lower the side zipper of my dress. “I’ll take it off myself when I’m ready.”
It was probably for the best, since my hands were trembling—knowing my luck, the zipper would get stuck.
After adding his waistcoat to the pile, he began tackling his shirt buttons. “Do you know why I didn’t want to use the manor’s honeymoon suite?”
No, I didn’t. Nor did I particularly care at that moment. Because he was baring inches of sleek, tanned, inked muscle that I really wanted to lick. His body was a masterpiece. Screamed strength and power.
“Because”—he threw the shirt on the pile—“I only intend to fuck my wife for the first time in our bed.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I licked my lips. “We’ve had sex before.”