Page 26 of Merging Wright

Mach’s mouth is red, and I’m certain mine matches his. Draped over him as he leans back on the large backseat, he’d tugged me closer to him, dragging me partially over his firm chest. My nipples are sharp peaks, desperate for release from the tightness of my dress which only feels tighter from the ache in my breasts. My panties are damp. My entire body rages with a deep desire to have Mach inside me.

However, we agreed to only one more kiss.

Reality crashes into me as I peer around Mach to glance out the side window. “Where are we?”

Mach cranes his neck to look over his shoulder. He softly chuckles. “A hotel.”

The multistoried building tells me we are definitely not in Wrightwood. A hotel? Suddenly, nerves return. I can’t spend the night in a hotel with Mach. I can’t spend another five minutes with him. I’m so fiercely aroused a simple breeze might cause me to spontaneously combust.

Mach watches me retreat. Our eyes lock as my body slowly drags over his. My nipples are so tender, the sudden movement causes my breasts to ache more. The heaviness in them confirms what I already know. I want Mach.

“We’re in Charleston,” he clarifies, although I didn’t ask. “It appears we’ve been set up for our wedding night.”

Oh God. It’s bad enough we’ve shared a bed two nights in a row at his mother’s house. While he was drunk the first night, he was quiet the second. Last night, he sent me to bed long before he collapsed beside me similarly to the night before. There was no telling me I was beautiful or tempting him, but at some point, our hands joined again. I woke with my fingers entwined with his.

Mach’s gaze moves to my mouth. Without thinking, I touch my lips, fingertips coasting over the well-kissed skin. The corner of Mach’s mouth curls. “I like seeing my kiss on you.”

My eyes widen, fingertips halting their caress. “How can you see a kiss on someone?”

“Your lipstick is smeared. Your mouth is swollen. I did that to you.” With a fingertip, he traces my puffy lower lip while his tongue glides over his own lips. His voice drops when he says, “I can still taste you.”

My entire body shivers. Oh God, I want him to taste me. I want him to take my lips, suck on my skin, and taste other places on my body. He’s less than a foot away from me and I can still feel his lips against mine, like a phantom kiss—an accessory I’ll wear forever.

Mach reaches for the linen binding still connecting our hands, and slowly unwraps the material. The agonizing time he takes feels like an undressing. The sliver of underwear I’m wearing is soaked. My clit pulses. The arousal between my thighs is almost unbearable.

Eventually, Mach crumples up the fabric and tucks it into his pocket like coveted panties. He reaches for the door handle and scoots out of the car, gently dragging me along.

When I stand beside him on the sidewalk, we both stare up at the hotel for a minute. Mach turns to me. “I forgot to tell you how beautiful you look, Mrs. Wright.” His eyes roam my body, a slow appreciative perusal, but also like a second undressing. I’m coming out of my skin. My pussy has never throbbed so fiercely, so desperately.

Nearly giddy from arousal, I simper under Mach’s charm. “Thank you, Mr. Wright. You’re rather stunning yourself.”

With my hand still in his, he loops my arm through his and leads me forward. The gesture reminds me of hundreds of times I’ve seen Mach escorting women to events, and a tightening occurs in my lower belly. This isn’t real. While legally married, we are not a couple. We aren’t in love. We aren’t enraptured with one another. This is an arrangement between us. A sort of partnership.

The thought refreshes my goal. I want to be a partner at Impact. My life is in Chicago, working hard days and long nights to brand others’ products and influence buyers.

What is my brand, though? Who am I? I dismiss the questions. Now isn’t the time for self-reflection.

Mach checks us in and then steers us toward a restaurant instead of the room. “I’m starving.”

My stomach rumbles in response.

Mach chuckles. “Sounds like you need food, too.”

I hardly ate the sandwich Landon bought me earlier and skipped morning tea for the second day in a row. Was it only this morning we’d sat in Landon’s office? I am hungry, and maybe eating something will settle my growing anxiety. Once seated in a private alcove near a window, Mach orders a bottle of champagne and immediately orders us each a steak I’m certain costs eighty dollars.

“You said something earlier that struck me.” Mach looks at me once the waiter steps away from the table. “You mentioned how you’d only have one wedding kiss. Had you ever considered being married before?”

That hunger in my belly turns to sour turnips at the question. I take a breath to collect my answer. “I always dreamed of a fairytale wedding with a large princess dress,” I begin, remembering the feather dress I thought I’d wear. “But the opportunity never arose. I work too much.” I try to make light of the fact that my job is my life and a proposal never happened despite years with Ripley. However, I don’t want to think about another man tonight. “But let’s not share our sad stories.”

The seductive curve of Mach’s mouth punctuates his agreement. “Alright. Let’s not. How about you tell me one fact I don’t know about you? Maybe something no one else does.” Mach wiggles his brow like I’m about to reveal some deep, dark secret. Other than my years of crush-lust on him, I don’t have much hidden.

I tap a finger to my lower lip, the one still tender and swollen. The motion is intended to mean I’m pondering, but the touch of my own mouth distracts me. Mach traced my lip earlier like he could erase that incredible kiss. However, I want more kisses from him. I want this man charming and sweet. I want us to be real, which is a foolish thought and a secret I’ll keep.

“I love to dance,” I admit.

Mach’s brows lift. “Dance? Like what kind of dance?”

“Just dance. I always thought I’d be a ballerina when I was a child, but I was too tall and not very graceful. Now, I crank the music at home and dance around my condo when the mood strikes.”