Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I can’t help but smile. “Of course. But haven’t we danced to this song once today?”
“That was for a crowd. This one’s for us.”
My heart flips as I follow his lead.
Miles holds me so close I can feel his pulse, his heat. I’m delirious with his scent in no time.
My smile deepens. The last time this song played, it was our first dance at the reception.
“Will you still love me like this after the honeymoon?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Our bodies meld seamlessly, gliding across the floor.
His muscles ripple against me, and God, I’ve wanted to be alone with him ever since I first saw him standing in the gazebo, decked out in this navy-blue suit that accents every angle of his body.
He may be patient.
I’m not.
Grabbing his shoulders, I stand on my toes, pressing my mouth to his with a moan that embarrasses me.
He stops moving to the music in perfect precision and deepens our kiss, growling deliciously in my mouth.
His hands roam my sides, retracing my curves, coming together and stopping just below the small of my back over my butt.
His tongue delves deeper in slow, sensual strokes that leave me dizzy, breathless except for a startled, “Oh. Oh, Miles.”
His grip tightens.
“You still taste like wedding cake and espresso,” I say when we break.
He chuckles. “And you taste like honey stolen from heaven’s pantry. Always, woman.”
Grinning, I work on his tie, my cheeks flushed as I slip a few times.
He places his hand over mine, guiding me, then stops my movement.
“Pace yourself. I want this to be special,” he orders.
“It’s always special when I’m with you.”
His mouth attacks mine again, showing me how little patience he truly has.
The kiss feels so intense it leaves me reeling, and it’s a good thing I back into the edge of the bed for support.
His tie comes off and I unbutton his coat, running my hands down his chest, his chiseled abs, the bulge below his belt that’s holding back the storm of a century.
I bite my lip—I have to—as I glide my hands back up his shoulders, tucking them under his coat.
His eyes are incandescent as he shrugs out of it, desperate to help my fingers work at his shirt buttons. It’s gone in record time.
We both sigh with relief as he turns his attention to my dress. I knew I picked something easy to take off for a reason as he slides the zipper down, tracing every newly revealed inch of flesh with his tongue.
“Miles!” I shudder.
It’s all detailed silk, but it’s had its time to shine as it falls to the floor.
He breaks our next sultry kiss just long enough for his eyes to rake over me.
I must look funny with my body fastened into a skintight lace slip.
“More beautiful than the dress,” he whispers.
I smile. I wasn’t expecting that.
“How does this come off?” he growls impatiently, reaching for the zipper.
“It doesn’t. Not yet.” My eyes light up with anticipation.
I run my hand down his chest, digging my nails into his skin, making him feel my need.
He sighs loudly, every last bit of him bristling.
His trousers are tented, his cock pulsing angrily behind the fabric.
“You must be so uncomfortable,” I whisper, reaching down to squeeze him. “Let me help.”
“Goddamn. Yeah, kitten, set me free.”
And I do, helping him unbutton his pants and shove them to the floor to join my dress.
They fall around his ankles, and he kicks off his shoes.
The instant he’s free, I don’t wait.
I pull the boxer briefs down, cupping the hard, needy length of him with my hand.
“Fuck.” He sighs. “How does the slip come off? Tell me now.”
“Down the back.” I slide my fingers down his thick manhood, then let go and turn around, so we’re back to front.
He’s harder than stone with raw desire, hot and firm against my ass.
I’ve never wanted anything so bad.
It’s like a fever, this lust, this animalistic need to be joined to my husband—holy shit, my husband—for the very first time.
He unhooks the first three brackets in slow seconds that make me so wet I can’t stand it.
The slip comes loose around my breasts while I count the deepest breaths I’ve taken all day.
“Feels good,” I purr. But it’s nothing close to what he’s about to make me feel.
His hands slide between the loose bra cups of the slip and my breasts. He cups them with a rumble in his throat, running his thumbs over my nipples, pressing good and hard.
I close my eyes as a moan drifts up my throat.
My ass pushes against his shaft, desperate to give him the same rush, igniting every nerve.
But he’s so patient.
I hate and love that he’s so flipping calm, so controlled, so Miles.
He caresses my breasts long enough to make my body ache for him before he grabs at the last few hooks.
“Go. Just rip it off,” I beg.