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Theo clears the table when we’re finished eating. “I have dessert for us,” he tells me. “But I thought we could eat it by the fireplace, in the living room.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I tell him, and itdoes. It sounds romantic, and perfect, and all of the things that I’m beginning to realize I can anticipate from him.
The living room is similar to the dining room—there’s a more formal one for guests, and then the one Theo takes me to, which is smaller and cozier. We sit on the soft green loveseat, Theo bringing in glasses of port and a chocolate souffle, and he builds up a fire as I sip at my drink and look outside. I see something faintly swirling in the night air, and blink. “Is itsnowing?” I ask, not sure why I’m surprised—it’s not unusual for it to snow in early spring in Chicago, either—but for some reason, I hadn’t pictured it snowing here. I’d expected more rain.
“A little.” Theo peers out of the window. “It snows lightly this time of year, every once in a while. We just got lucky to get a bit of it. The city will be a mess tomorrow, but it’s beautiful out here.”
Itisbeautiful. I feel like we’re sequestered away from everything in this house. I’m used to there always being the footsteps of staff somewhere, or the sound of someone talking in some other room, of never being entirely alone. I know there’s security on the grounds, but it truly does feel as if Theo and I have our own private haven here.
I try not to think of Adrik, and how he might be watching us.
Theo comes back to sit next to me, taking a sip of his port as he picks up a fork. “You know,” he says conversationally, looking down at the dessert and then at me, “feeding you that cake at our wedding gave me a number of ideas. Ones that weren’t appropriate for that setting. But here—” he looks contemplatively at the dessert, and then dips the fork into it, scooping out a bite of fluffy chocolate drenched in some sort of fudge sauce. He raises it to my lips, and I part them obediently, taking a bite.
I can’t stop the moan that slips out of my mouth. It’sincredible. “I think you missed your calling,” I mumble as I swallow it. “Instead of a crime lord, you should have been a chef.”
Theo smirks. “I think I prefer cooking for you. That allows me to do things like this—”
He dips the tip of his finger into the divot left from the fork—in a way that makes me think it’s intentionally a little lewd—and brings it to my mouth, tracing chocolate over my lower lip before leaning forward and capturing it in his, licking away the sweetness before he nips softly at my skin.
I can’t help the small whimper of pleasure I let out.
“Mm.” His own mouth curves in a satisfied smile as he dips his finger in the chocolate again, tracing a line down my throat with it. I let my head tip back without thinking as he leans in, the tip of his tongue tracing the same line as he licks the chocolate away, and I moan as my skin heats, sensation prickling over me.
“You should take that sweater off,” he murmurs huskily. “I wouldn’t want to get anything on it. It suits you.” He glances up, his gaze roving over my face in that appreciative way of his. “It matches your lovely eyes.”
My first instinct is to tell him to take it off of me himself, but his fingers are sticky with chocolate, and a part of me likes the idea of stripping for him. I reach for the hem of the soft sweater, slowly raising it up as I lean back a little, letting him see my pale flesh revealed a little at a time as I lift it up to my breasts and then the rest of the way off, letting it fall on the other side of the couch.
Theo swears softly under his breath as he sees the lace bralette hugging my chest. “Every time I see you, I want you more,” he murmurs. “Take that off too, lass. Or else I’m going to ruin it, getting it off you.”
There’s no pretending I don’t want this, or him. I feel tight with desire, my body humming with it as I reach behind my back and undo the clasp, sliding it away from my breasts. Theo lets out a low growl deep in his throat as he sees my bare flesh, his hands reaching for me as he lifts me up off of the couch.
“We’re going to do this all the way,” he murmurs teasingly against my mouth as he pulls me to my feet. “Chocolate, a fur rug, and a fireplace.”
I realize what he means as he leads me across the room, kissing me hungrily again as he pulls me down to sit next to him on the huge fur rug stretched across the wooden floor, in front of the leaping fire. “Are you trying to be a walking romance novel trope?” I ask him, nipping at his lower lip as he kisses me once more, and Theo chuckles.
“I’m trying to do something with my wife that I’ve never done before.” His hand rests on my bare chest, pushing me back onto the fur. “I’ve never taken the time to do this kind of thing. I would have probably said it was nonsense, if I’d ever thought of it. But now—” He looks at me hungrily, his fingers tracing over my breasts. “I want to take my time with you, Marika. I want to do all the foolish, romantic things I would have thought were stupid with any other woman. Thisissilly,” he adds, reaching for the dessert to trace more of the warm chocolate over my nipples, and I gasp at the sensation. “But after the life I’ve lived, I find a little romantic foolishness means more to me than I realized it would.”
When he bends his mouth to my breast, sucking my nipple into it as his teeth and tongue slide over my stiffening, sensitive flesh, I sink my hands into his hair. My back arches as I give myself up to the sensation, knowing how much more difficult I’m making this for myself, and finding that it’s suddenly hard for me to care. Iwanthim, and everything about this night has been perfect.
I’d thought, when he said that he was turning a business trip into a honeymoon, that it was an excuse to kill two birds with one stone. That I’d be left alone for most of it, that it would be a nominal honeymoon so Theo could keep me from complaining about not having had one—not that I would have anyway, but he couldn’t have known that. But I’ve barely heard a word about his business here, other than him telling me that’s what he’ll be doing tomorrow while I explore Dublin. It seems that to Theo, the honeymoon part of this is more important than the business.
Especially right now, as he licks the sweetness away from my flesh, repeating it on the other side, before trailing his lips across the flat expanse of my stomach, all the way down to the space between my hips. His hands slide up the inside of my thighs, spreading me apart as he nips lightly at my hipbones, and up to trace his fingers over the lace of my panties. They’re fancier than anything I normally wear, cream-colored lace to match the bralette with satin ribbon woven through the top, and a small velvet bow at the top.
“I like these.” His voice is deep and husky. “I don’t want to ruin them, but I do want to take them off of you myself—”
His hands rest on my thighs, his mouth grazing over the lace, and his teeth grip the edge of it at one hip, drawing it down my skin. I can’t help the moan that escapes me, my body tensing with need, as he repeats the same motion on the other side, bringing his mouth between my thighs to brush it against the lace.
I know exactly how wet it is, and the way he inhales, breathing in my scent, makes my entire body flush with embarrassment and arousal all at once.
“I love how fucking wet you get for me, lass,” he murmurs. “I love knowing that when I slip my fingers inside your sweet pussy, you’ll be all slick and hot for me, aching for my cock.” His teeth catch on the lace again, sliding it lower. “I find myself thinking about how good you taste. How I can’t wait to lick all that wetness up, have it on my tongue, my lips, all over my fucking face.”
“Theo—” I whimper his name, twisting on the soft rug as he inches my panties down my thighs, clearly intentionally drawing this out. “Theo, please—”
“Please, what, lass?” There’s a wicked heat on his face as he looks up from where he’s divested me of the last of my clothing. “I want you to tell me what you want.”
“Your mouth—” I whisper it, my teeth sinking into my lower lip. I can taste wine and sugar there, and I know I’m never going to look at a chocolate dessert the same way again.
“My mouthwhere?” he presses, brushing his lips against the inside of my knee. “Here?”
