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“I don’t regret what we shared, Sia. It was the single most erotic moment of my life. I haven’t stopped replaying it in my mind.”
My wedding dress drops from my hands, and I turn to face him.
“But you deserved hearts and flowers and a man wholistenedto you. I’m sorry I lost my temper. I’m so fucking angry with myself.”
My throat is thick with emotion. “I don’t need hearts and flowers.”
He smiles, the gesture small but prominent enough to make me want to reach out and touch him. “No oneneedsit, Sia. But you deserved more.”
Snapshots of our night together flash in my mind. “I liked your more.”
His eyes close. “I liked our more, too.”
Silence hangs between us, and I know I should speak or move orbreathe,but I can’t.
“Will you put it on?” He gestures to the dress again.
“I don’t ne—”
“Sia,” he reprimands gently. “I spent the entirety of our wedding caught between anger and lust. The way you looked in that dress, your hair, your smile. I wanted to fucking hate you, but my depraved thoughts were stronger. I despised that so many people were there. I wanted you alone. I wanted you to smile like that formeand only me.I wanted you to wear that dress forme. Only me.No one else should’ve been allowed to look at you. You stole my last name, and I wanted you to beg for forgiveness with your tits in my face, your pussy around my cock, your ass in my hands, and my name on your lips.”
My mouth is dry, and my pussy is wet. I blink.
“Let me be the one to beg for forgiveness.”
“How?” The word catches in my throat.
He steps into the room, his hands pushing into his pockets and a sinful grin twisting his lips upward. “I’ll beg with my tongue on your tits, my cock in your cunt, my hands full of your ass, and my name on your lips.”
I arch an eyebrow to take his attention away from the smile twitching for release. “Why does me begging sound eerily similar to you begging?”
His shoulders lift, and he rocks back on the balls of his feet. “Because whether I hate you, love you, or merely lust after you, Idowant to claim you, and I want to please you.”
I lift my chin. “If I put the dress on, I need to make sure my hair and makeup do it justice.”
He dips his chin. “You have an hour.”
CHAPTERTWENTY
DIEGO
Her bathroom door is still closed when I check my watch again.
She’s twenty minutes past her deadline, and I’m ready to break down the door to get to her.
I’m still afraid to move or breathe, fearing I’ll miss any sound that indicates she’s ready for me—the unmistakable catch of a door lock or the twist of the handle. I’m seated on the edge of her bed,ourbed. The room is darkened, lit up only by the dim light of the candles burning at various points. I took direction from the Four Seasons and scattered rose petals from the bathroom door to the bed. I spent close to a grand on long-stemmed red roses. Thick crystal vases filled with the velvety flowers she loves enough to plant. Their petals shimmer in the candlelight, and I’m tempted to pick it all up and throw it away because I’m a fool and obviously trying way too fucking hard.
But as I move to stand, the bathroom door opens, and I turn in her direction just as she steps into the room.
If I thought she was a vision at our wedding, she’s a fucking masterpiece today. Because right here and now, this is all for us, forme.I don’t have to share her with anyone. The dress I fantasized about peeling from her body to reveal the naked perfection beneath slides over her skin. I’m torn between my need to fuck her in it and my desire to cut it from her body so she knows how desperately I crave her.
She’s styled her hair and makeup in a replica of that day, and I suddenly find it hard to swallow.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Sia.”
She blinks tenderly, and I step forward.
“Diego,” she breathes, looking around the room. “You didn’t need to do this.” But the way her eyes glisten and her lips split into a smile tells me she appreciates it more than she’ll ever verbalize.
