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Her insides coiled with want. The memory of the roughness of his hands moving over her needy flesh had her burning for things she didn’t know how to ask for.
Did he plan to make this union real? Could she bring herself to ask that question?
His gaze locked on her lips. She ran her tongue across the bottom one, gathering a trace of wine.
A low groan rumbled from him.
“Julius…” His name came out a little breathless.
“Avalynn.” He brushed his fingertip over her earlobe, raising a shiver inside her and drawing her nipples into tight buds. “You are so beautiful. The most beautiful bride in the world.”
Her breaths came faster.
Could she take the next step? Take what she wanted and needed like air?
She leaned forward and set the goblet on the table. As soon as she twisted toward him, his arms were open to catch her.
A gasp escaped her throat. His arms locked around her, and he dragged her against his side as he crushed his mouth over hers.
The heady taste of wine and man mixed to create an intoxicating combination. Need splashed through her, and she clenched her thighs together as he plundered her mouth over and over.
He feasted on her lips and tongue, thrusting his inside her mouth, taking and giving, until she shook.
“Take me to bed,” she rasped.
“Yes, baby.”
Her stomach dipped. He always called her honey, but the word was only a Southern word reserved for pretty much anybody, from the waitress who brought your burger to the policeman who only gave you a warning.
But baby…that wasmore.
Her core squeezed. Her lace wedding panties flooded with want.
He slipped to his feet and drew her up with him. Before she knew his plan, he swept her into his arms, bridal-style, and carried her to bed.
His lips never left hers as he set her on her feet. Gliding his hands down her shoulders and over her spine, he caught the zipper pull on her dress and eased it down. Shivers took hold. She clutched his lapels and clung to him, trying not to collapse.
When he had the dress open at the back, he stretched all his fingers across her spine and slowly drew the lace off her shoulders. Slowly, he guided the fabric down her arms and stopped, leaving her arms trapped.
Dropping his head, he latched his lips on to her throat. She cried out at the sudden liquid heat pooling inside her and tried to loop her arms around his neck, but the dress prevented her from moving.
As he skated kisses up and down her neck to her collarbone and down again to wash his tongue over the crest of her breast, she panted for more.
He whipped off his jacket and tossed it toward an overstuffed chair but it missed and hit the floor. They left it there, and he went for his cuffs. In a few quick moves he had them open and cast off his bowtie too.
He worked the line of buttons down his chest. As the light spattering of hair on his chest came into sight, she licked her lips.
A growl burst from his throat. He kicked off his shoes and she did the same with her heels.
When she curled her flat feet into the floor, he stopped to study her. “That’s better,” he rumbled.
“What is?” Her voice wasn’t her own.
“You without those heels. You fit me better.” To show her, he tucked her against him, under his chin.
She shuddered. “Julius, I want…”
Drawing back, his eyes seemed to grow even darker as he stared down at her. “You want this?” He cupped one breast.
