The crowd cheers, but I barely hear them. All I hear is Belle’s soft moan. All I feel is her lush body against mine.
Mine.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“My wife,” I say, testing the word. Loving the way it sounds. “Mine.”
“Yours,” she agrees, her eyes bright. “My husband.”
“Forever.”
“Forever.”
The reception is pure fucking torture. I have to share Belle with our guests when all I want to do is carry her upstairs and get our wedding night started.
People keep approaching to congratulate us, welcome me back to the kingdom, tell Belle how beautiful she looks. While I’m counting down the seconds until I can get her alone.
“You’re doing well,” Belle whispers during a lull. “Very princely.”
I snarl. “I’m dying.”
“You’re fine.” She raises my hand to her mouth and presses a kiss to the back of it, making warmth spread throughout my body. And my breeches grow even more uncomfortably tight…
I growl. “I’ve been hard since you left our bed this morning. I need you, Belle.”
Her eyes widen. “Beast, we can’t just leave…”
I growl and pull her to the dance floor. If we dance, I can at least hold her. Touch her.
“You don’t dance,” she points out.
“I’ll make an exception.”
We sway together, barely in tune with the music. I’m terrible at this…my Beast form isn’t built for graceful waltzing…but Idon’t give a fuck. Because my fucking wife is in my arms. Small and soft and perfect against my massive body.
“Are you happy?” I ask.
“Incredibly.” She rests her head against my chest, right over my heart. “You?”
“More than I ever thought possible.” I tighten my arms around her, breathing in her scent.
We make it through two more dances before my control breaks.
“We’re leaving,” I rumble.
“Pierre, we can’t just leave our own wedding reception…”
I’m already pulling her toward the ballroom doors.
“But the guests…”
“Gideon!” I call to my former captain. “You’re in charge. Keep everyone fed and drunk.”
“Gladly, sire!” He grins. “Enjoy your wedding night!”
I give him a wicked grin.
I practically drag Belle through the castle. She’s laughing, protesting… but not trynna stop me.
