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He lifted his head, his clear grey eyes mirroring intense sexual satisfaction.
She smiled, lifting her hand to stroke his cheek. “I’m not disappointed, either.”
His mouth stretched into a wide lecherous grin. “You, my darling wife, are a tiger. And let me give you an open invitation to eat me any time you like.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes flirted teasingly with his. “I love the way you fill me up.”
He laughed, heaving himself off her. “Guess we should be making a move.” His eyes sparkled with happy anticipation. “Tonight, I’m going to eat you, Peta Davis.”
“Ah...a consuming passion.” She squirmed provocatively. “I’ll look forward to it.”
He hauled her up and caught her against him, his hands sliding down to cup her bottom, gently squeezing her soft flesh. “Thank you for this,” he said gruffly.
“A mutual pleasure,” she answered, winding her arms around his neck.
She kissed him. He kissed her. It was like champagne after strawberries and cream, and Peta wallowed in the sweet intoxication of it, wanting to lose herself in him. It worked until it ended.
Then it was necessary to deal with practical realities. It was lucky there was an ensuite bathroom where they could wash and tidy up. They had to get dressed and face their guests again, take their leave of them.
Peta assured herself she could do it with confidence now. She would respond happily to her parents’ good wishes and her brothers’ good-humoured teasing, and she would look Megan straight in the eye and defy her sister’s doubts. She’d chosen right. She was going to enjoy every minute of her honeymoon.
They cleared up the change room, then looked at each other with a delicious sense of guilty pleasure. “Ready?” Matt asked, his eyes simmering over the slinky knit suit she had donned.
She returned the sexy appraisal, proud to be this man’s wife. Even in his dark grey suit, Matt would turn any woman’s head. “Where are you going to start?” she asked.
“What?” His gaze clung to her breasts.
“Eating me.”
He laughed, his eyes dancing with pleasure. “Why do you want to know?”
“So I can think about it.”
“Toes,” he said. “Definitely toes. While I think about what else is waiting for me.”
Her stomach flipped over and her toes started curling. “Okay, I’m ready,” she declared. With orgasmic toes on her mind, goodbyes would be a breeze.
Matt took her hand and together they went back to the reception room to complete their last wedding duties.
They were married.
Next step...children.
And making them would be no hardship.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE last night of their honeymoon...
The best two weeks of his life, Matt thought. No question. Far North Queensland was the perfect escape from the cold winter in Sydney and The Mirage Resort at Port Douglas had been an inspired choice, given that Peta hadn’t wanted to travel outside Australia. Golf, tennis, swimming, snorkelling off the Great Barrier Reef, whitewater rafting through tropical rainforest...they’d done it all, each beautiful sunny day lived to the full, and the nights...ah, the nights...
He sat back with his glass of wine and watched Peta pick through the last of the coral trout on her plate. They’d chosen to come into town and dine at Portofino’s, a fine Italian restaurant in the main street, a more casual, intimate setting than the hotel provided. Their table was in a corner of its courtyard, shadowed by the heavily foliaged branches of a mango tree. It was a soft balmy evening and Peta had worn an orange sundress. She glowed in the candlelight.
Matt could hardly believe his luck in having met her—met her and married her. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman; fun company, great to play with, enjoying the challenge and the thrill of all the activities they’d shared, very much a matching partner...especially in bed. He’d never had such great sex. Nor so often. He only had to look at her—think of her—to be turned on and she was wickedly, wonderfully uninhibited about encouraging him, not to mention pleasuring him as thoroughly as he hoped he pleasured her.
Her lightly tanned skin gleamed like satin. He had to restrain himself from reaching out to run his fingertips over it. The bodice of her dress was moulded to her figure, the neckline low enough to reveal a tantalising cleavage. He knew she wasn’t wearing a bra and he started to get hard, remembering how she’d drawn him into that soft valley and pushed her breasts together, laughingly telling him he was trapped in a landslide.
Matt sipped the cold white wine and forced himself to relax. The night was young. Peta had said she fancied a dessert after her fish—something sweet and sinfully full of calories. Racing her off before her appetite was satisfied would be selfish. He wanted her to have everything she wanted, especially this last night.
