Page 88 of Married to Lies

“Is it humid in the building? They have to keep the plants pretty damp, right?” Rei asked, just as she drew my fingers to her slit, and they slicked with her desire.

I grit my teeth, struggling to hold it together, much less breathe.

“They do mist that area of the greenhouse every so often,” Aaric said thoughtfully, “but it doesn’t reach all the way across the restaurant. You’ll see when you arrive. Anyway, best wishes for a happy union.”

Rei guided my finger in a slow circle around her clit. “So far, so good.”

Aaric gave a wave and walked away.

I leaned in, as if to give her a kiss on the cheek, and rasped, “What the fuck are you doing?”

She let out a breathy sigh and said, “Yet another man who doesn’t believe in foreplay.”

I stood up, chair scraping loudly back. Clasping my hands together, I said, “Everyone, thank you so much for joining my wife and me for our wedding. As I’m going out of town tomorrow morning, I want to take as much time with her as I can today.”

My brother wolf-whistled.

My mom slapped him.

My dad put his face in his hands.

“Please get home safely,” I said. Then I took Rei’s hand and pulled her after me. George couldn’t get us to the house fast enough.

39 Rei

The ride to the house rented for our wedding night was too long. Quentin sat quietly beside me, looking straight ahead. Shoulders square, hands fisted in his lap, jaw clenched. The strong, silent type personified.

Had I gone too far at our reception dinner? Was he mad at me for teasing him? I folded my arms across my chest and gave him a petulant look. “You know, you started it with that ‘yes, husband’ business,” I hissed. I didn’t want George to hear this part.

He arched a brow. “That’s what you’re going with? ‘You started it’?”

My cheeks warmed, but I raised my chin defiantly.

I could have sworn his lips twitched before he mumbled, “I’ll finish it, too.”

I didn’t have time to ponder it when George stopped the car and got out to open the door. He helped me out while Quentin came around, and we walked up the sidewalk to the front door of one of the biggest homes in town, which would have passed for a small home in my own neighborhood.

As soon as we were inside the house, Quentin tugged me against him, crushing his lips to my own in a punishing, hungry kiss that erased the world around us.

I clung to his broad shoulders, kissing him back before deciding his suit jacket was too thick between us. I tugged it back, letting it fall to the floor as he continued kissing me like I was his one source of oxygen. The feeling of need, of being desired so completely, was better than any high.

While he kissed a path from my neck to my collarbone, my fingers dug into his back through his dress shirt. God, I wanted him closer than we could get with all this fabric between us.

My legs backed up against what felt like a bed, and he lowered me down. I scooted back and spread my legs to make room for him while he continued kissing me, worshiping my lips and body until each touch felt like a flame against the embers of my skin.

Then his hips ground against me, and I could feel the hard length of him pressing against my sensitive parts. He was big, in every sense of the word.

Jada may have had her water break on her wedding day, but I was soaked.

Each thrust of his hips was a mere promise of the pleasure to come, and he already felt so damn good against me.

“You like taking orders?” he growled in my ear.

I gasped out of need, surprise. “I do.”

“You know your line,” he said.

“Yes, husband.”