After dinner, we made it upstairs, and he pulled off his jacket and yanked off his tie before he even set foot in the door, like he wanted to get a head start. The back of my dress had a long zipper and lots of buttons, so it wasn’t something I could get out of alone.
He unbuttoned his shirt as he stared at me, showing more and more ink as the shirt opened farther. He’d shaved that morning, and his hair was slicked back the way it’d been at that wedding we’d gone to when Warren had confronted us at the table.
I sat on the edge of the bed and started to undo the strap of my heels.
“No,” he said as he pulled off his shirt. “The honor of taking off every piece of that outfit is mine—and mine alone.” He tossed his shirt aside, muscular and strong, with his arms like chiseled pieces of a sculpture. He undid his trousers and stepped out of his shoes while he stared at me as I sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled off his socks and unclasped his watch, setting it on one of the dressers, but he left his black boxers on before he moved toward me, rubbing his palms together like he was about to open the biggest gift at the party.
He kneeled before me and gently grabbed my ankle before he placed it against his chest, the thin heel probably feeling likethe edge of a knife. He undid the little strap, taking his time, sometimes looking at the material and sometimes looking at me before he removed it and gently put it aside. Then he took hold of my other ankle and did the same, eyes locked on me because he already knew how to loosen the strap.
I couldn’t believe this man was my husband.
We’d met less than four months ago—and now we were family.
He moved between my parted knees and brought his face close to mine, his hand finding the slit in my dress to reach my knee. He slowly slid his fingers up, reaching farther and farther until he found my hip. His fingers explored the material until he felt the little strap of my white thong underneath.
He stared at my lips but didn’t kiss me, like he wanted to savor the moment. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
It was the first time in my life I truly felt beautiful…and not because he’d said that. But because he treated me like I was. Stared at me like a painting of perfection rather than a real person. Made me feel loved and cherished and desired with that authoritarian stare.
I cupped his face and brought his lips to mine because I couldn’t wait any longer. I felt his lips land on mine, and I closed my eyes as I was immediately swept away by the gentle embrace between our mouths. It was slow and seductive and heated and fiery, but still subdued, like neither one of us wanted to catch on fire right away.
He gripped my thigh as he kissed me. He cupped my face and then my neck and then dug his fingers into my hair like he didn’t care if he messed it up now that we were home alone. I was aboutto be thoroughly fucked all night long, so my hair would go to shit in the next hour or two anyway.
He was the one to end the embrace first, rising to his full height and pulling me with him. He guided me to turn around so he could see the puzzle down my spine. But without having to ask how to navigate it, he undid every single button from the top of my dress to the top of my ass. Then he reached for the zipper and slowly pulled that down, showing the bare skin underneath. He took his time with that, slowly tugging it down, like he wanted to look at the beautiful skin underneath.
The material immediately lost its cinch around me, so it started to fall away. He guided me toward him again and gently pulled the material down until gravity did its job, and it fell to the floor. All that was left was my little white G-string underneath, barely any material because I didn’t want lines to show through my dress.
He slowly dragged his eyes down my body, over my hard nipples, as goose bumps spread everywhere because of the anticipation and the cold air that hit my skin the moment the dress was gone.
Now that signature possessive look was there in the deep recesses of his stare, the primal animal that acted on instinct alone. He slid his fingers into the front of my panties and immediately rubbed my clit as he came near, just for a couple seconds before he pushed the thong down over my ass and thighs, and it fell the rest of the way to the floor. I’d gotten waxed everywhere the day before, so I was smoother than marble.
He dropped his shorts and displayed his massive hard-on with a drooling head before his big arms scooped me into him, and he laid me back on the bed, my head hitting the pillow as hestarted to kiss me everywhere, beginning at my neck and then my breasts as his fingers played with my clit again.
He moved down, kissed my tummy, and dove his tongue into my belly button. Then he pressed his face into my folds and kissed me with an enthusiasm I’d never witnessed before. Sucked me hard into him until I winced, and then he tasted me, pushed his tongue inside me and felt me, and then sucked my clit raw once again.
This was not a night when I needed foreplay. I’d wanted him the moment I saw him standing there in that church, a giant of a man who was too good for this world. I’d done nothing to disqualify myself from his love, but I knew I still didn’t deserve him. There were hotter, smarter, fitter girls out there, but for whatever reason, he chose to give me all of himself instead.
He came back to me, his heavy body making the bed shift and move with every change in position he made. He moved over me and separated my thighs with his knees before he hooked his arms behind my legs and pinned me back, getting me into a locked position before he guided himself to my slickness and started to sink.
Inch by inch, he filled me, and he didn’t give me more than I could handle tonight. His possessive eyes were on me, and a quiet moan escaped his throat as he officially made me his. He seemed thicker than before, like a hot rod of steel rather than human flesh. His thick arms bulged with muscle and veins as he held his body on top of me, and then he started to rock into me with slow and even thrusts, focused on the connection between our souls rather than the heat from our bodies. Wolfe didn’t seem like the kind of man to fall in love, let alone so deeply and so passionately—and with me, of all the women in this world—but he had.
I planted my hands on his chest, and my palm slid over his heart where I could feel it beating against my skin. Slow and steady, like holding himself above me and rocking me was no strain for him whatsoever. I got to feel the other half of my soul, got to feel the only man who could complete me the way he did.
20
WOLFE
I woke up the next morning to sunlight pouring into the room because we hadn’t closed the curtains last night. It raised the temperature a couple of degrees, and while I normally ran ten degrees hotter than everyone else, it was actually kind of nice.
Francesca was still asleep by my side, her makeup wrecked because she’d never washed her face last night. We’d made love and then fucked and then talked and then made love again. I wasn’t sure what time we actually went to sleep, but judging by the intensity of the light, it must be after noon now.
I lay there with her for a while and waited for her to stir, but she was still knocked out cold. I eventually left the bed and pulled on my boxers, my suit and her wedding dress still on the floor where we’d left them. I’d brought over a bag of clothes for us before I’d headed to the church, so I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and then headed downstairs.
The fridge was stocked with food, so I made some bacon and eggs and left some in the pan for her in case she was hungry. I didn’t make myself an espresso because the grinder on themachine could be loud as hell, and I didn’t want to wake up my wife.
My wife.
That had a nice ring to it.
