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“Please this?”
“Yes, yes, that.” She left a moist path up his jaw and temple, and in his ear whispered, “I was aching to be with you all day.”
“Shame on me.” He turned his head and seized her earlobe with his teeth, tugging. “For keeping you waiting.”
“I adore what you do to me.”
He groaned at the husky quality of her voice. “No more than I, darling.” Unable to wait, he freed himself from his trousers and, grasping her hips, began making love to her.
A whimper tore out of her, and she clutched his back with her hands.
“Chiquita.” He wound his arms around her and was in turn embraced and enveloped by her silken warmth, completely owned and taken by the woman who had single-handedly stolen his heart.
No matter how quiet they tried to be, they were groaning, moving together. Marcos closed his eyes, savoring her, his wife and partner and mate and woman. When she exploded in his arms with a gasp, crying out his name into his mouth, he let go. Gripping her hips tighter, he muttered a choked, emotional te amo then let out a satisfying, “Hmm.”
“Hmm,” she echoed.
Inconspicuous minutes later, the bride and groom exited the closet. The ballroom brimmed with music and laughter, most of the guests who remained being the people closest to them.
With an appreciative eye, Marcos noticed the bride looked deliciously rumpled. Her cheeks glowed bright, and the fancy hairdo she claimed had taken endless hours to achieve had become magnificently undone.
As if reading his thoughts, she shot him a little black scowl. “I’m sure that everyone who sees me now will know—” she rose up to whisper into his ear “—that you just tumbled me in the closet. Really. Is that how your wife should expect to be treated, Señor Allende?”
Smiling into her eyes, he lifted her knuckles to his lips. “My wife can expect to be treated with respect and admiration and devotion.”
With a dazzling smile, she let him drag her to the dance floor when a compellingly slow song began. “I believe this dance is mine,” he said, and meaningfully added, “So is the one afterward.”
She stepped into the circle of his arms, finding her spot under his chin to tuck her head in and sliding her arms around him. “You are a greedy fellow, aren’t you?”
His lips quirked, and his eyes strayed toward the arched doorway, where his little brother stood, barely visible through the throng surrounding him. “With Santos around, I don’t plan to let you out of my sight.”
Virginia laughed. “He’s already told me everything. Even about the time you broke his nose and chin. I swear that man loves to make you out as the ogre.” She glanced past her shoulder and wrinkled her little nose. “Besides, he seems pretty busy with the two he brought tonight…and the dozen others he’s trying to fend off.”
Grateful that for the moment the guests were oblivious to them as they danced amidst so many familiar faces, Marcos ran a hand down her back and glanced at the firm swell between their bodies. “How do you feel?” he asked, somber.
She smiled as she canted her head back to meet his gaze. “I feel…perfect.” She kissed his lips and gazed up at him with those same green eyes that had haunted him. Their sparkle surpassed the blinding one of the ring on her finger, and her smile took his breath away—like it did every day. “You?” she asked.
His lips curled into a smile, and he bent his head, fully intending to take that mouth of hers. “A hundred thousand dollars shorter,” he baited. He touched her lips, and his smile widened. “And I’ve never felt so lucky.”
