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The ceremony was short and sweet. My bride was stunning beyond measure with her new groom taking her breath away. Everyone cheered, and then we headed to their reception. It wasn’t anything fancy since the couple planned to have a bigger event once they got back home. But I dutifully took pictures of their first dance and cutting the cake. All the typical additions to a traditional wedding.
By the end of the night, I was dead on my feet, and it was a miracle to have Julian there, still waiting for me.
“You’re glowing,” he said.
“That’s the exhaustion.”
He laughed. “No, it’s you doing exactly what you love to do for hours on end. They were lucky to have you.”
“Thank you.”
“About that exhaustion,” he said, wrapping an arm around my waist as we headed back to the suite for the first time in hours. “Do I need to put you straight to bed?”
“God, I don’t think I could sleep even if I tried. I’m too keyed up.”
“You just said you were exhausted.”
“Oh, I am. And it’ll all punch me in the face tomorrow. But right now, I’m living on the high of a wedding.”
“Good,” he said but wouldn’t tell me why until we reached our room.
Candlelight suffused the room, leading out to our swim-up pool. Champagne was in a silver bucket, and chocolate-covered strawberries rested on a silver platter. Rose petals were strewn across the white comforter.
My hands flew to my mouth. “Oh my God, what did you do?”
He laughed at my question. “I thought I’d surprise you.”
I whirled on him with wide eyes. “Julian…”
He took the camera from around my neck and set my bag down at our feet. “You deserve all of this and more. I wanted to do something to give you a break after working so hard.”
“You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.”
His fingers moved to the strap of my sundress that I’d been wearing all day. Gently, he released one strap and then the other. The material puddled around my hips. He stepped around me, unperturbed by the width of my body, and dragged the zipper down the back. The dress fell to the ground, leaving me in nothing but a bra and panties.
I swallowed as his fingers skimmed the clasp on my bra. He snapped it open as he pressed a kiss to my shoulder.
“God, I love to see you naked,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes around his words, trying to infuse them into my body. Julian liked how I looked. He wanted to see me like this.
His hands slid down my stomach from behind, one hand slipping into the waistband of my underwear. I inhaled sharply as he moved lower. My head tipped back to rest on his shoulder. His lips found my neck as a finger touched my most sensitive area.
“Oh God,” I moaned.
“Yes,” he purred, rubbing me in slow circles.
His fingers slicked through my wetness. I shivered at the touch as he dragged his way back up to the bundle of nerves that had me nearly trembling in his embrace.
“You’re so wet,” he said into my ear.
I groaned at the words and his fingers and the surprise and all of this at once. “Please.”
“I want to taste you,” he said, removing his hand.
“Oh,” I gasped at his absence.
I moved toward the bed, but he caught my hand. “Not there.”
I arched an eyebrow. But he tugged me toward the open door. My eyes widened as I realized he was taking me outside. Yes, we had a partially secluded swim-up suite, but it was partially secluded. Anyone could walk by and see what was happening.
He must have seen that all cross my face. “It’s after midnight. Who is going to be out?”
It was a fair point, but I still stopped right before leaving. I was in nothing but my underwear. I’d be completely exposed. I’d never done anything like that before.
He smiled at my hesitation. All warmth there. “Don’t you want me to taste you?”
“I do, but—”
He pressed a finger to my lips. The same finger that had been inside of me. I could taste my want there. My own arousal only grew. My anxiety not letting up despite the sexual nature of the gesture.
Julian took another step outside and into the humid Mexican air. Then he slowly—oh-so slowly—unbuttoned each individual button on his linen shirt. Until the material fluttered open, revealing the abs beneath, leading down into a V that made me want to step right out there and remove the pants, too.
He dropped the shirt onto a nearby chair and then did exactly what I wanted him to—unclasped his pants and let them drop to the ground. My mouth watered. I could see that he was visibly affected by our contact. That he desperately wanted me. All I had to do was cross that threshold and take what was mine.
