Page 73 of Wed to You

Chapter Twelve

We’re married.The mantra ran through Chelsea’s mind as Jagger led her through the Talbot Luxe Hotel to the elevator. What they were doing felt salacious. Like an affair. After all, who else went to a hotel simply to have sex? We’re married. He said they were going to have a real honeymoon. Of course, it wouldn’t be real. They were married, but it was a sham. So really, they were only going to have sex. We’re married.

Jagger put a special key in the elevator and turned it, and the doors shut. The car rose, smoothly, quietly. He didn’t say anything, but he took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the inside of her wrist. Who’d have thought that could feel so erotic? Then his tongue gently licked along her pulse and she thought she’d melt right there.

The elevator car stopped and the doors opened. With his hand still holding hers, he led her out and to a private section of the hotel.

Jagger opened the door but stopped her when she started to walk through.

“Honeymoon. Remember?” He had a wicked grin that made her heart do handsprings in her chest. He reached for her, lifting her into his arms.

She smiled. They were playing, because this wasn’t a real honeymoon. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy him. Maybe they weren’t in love and planning a real life for forever, but she was certain Jagger had some feelings for her. Respect and gratitude, at least.

He carried her into the room. No, not a room. The moon shone through the large windows, casting a romantic glow over the beautifully furnished and decorated suite or apartment. She felt like she was in a dream and only hoped she could stay asleep long enough to enjoy all the delights Jagger promised.

He must have liked the moonlight because he left the lights off. He carried her toward a table, by which an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne sat. He set her down and reached for the champagne. “Shall I pour you a glass?”

What she really wanted was to get naked again but, at the same time, she wanted to draw out the night. While it started out difficult, it was getting better, almost magical, by the moment. She didn’t want it end.

Jagger handed her a flute of the golden bubbly. “To living in the moment.” His eyes glinted with a promise of sensual delights, sending a shiver of anticipation through her.

“To living in the moment.” She lifted her glass, clinking it with his and then sipping. The bubbles burst on her tongue and although she hadn’t had much, she felt a little giddy. Although, that was probably due to Jagger not the champagne.

She’d barely lowered the glass when Jagger’s arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. His lips, cool from the champagne, pressed against hers. By contrast, his tongue was hot as it teased her lips until she opened for him. He tasted divine, like champagne and danger and the promise of pleasure.

He moaned and pulled away. “That’s enough of that.” He took her glass and set it with his in the bucket, along with the champagne. Then his hands went to her hips and pulled her against him again, as his mouth took hers more forcefully and thoroughly than before. This time she moaned as he overwhelmed her senses. His hands slid behind her and undid her dress. His tongue danced wildly with hers. His body pressed against her. It was like he was everywhere, touching every part of her, making her blood heat and her skin tingle.

Her dress fell in a pool at her feet. Only then did he stop kissing her. Lifting his head and stepping back, he looked at her, his gaze raking over her body. “Holy Christ.” His voice was ragged. His gaze slid back to hers. “You’re perfect.”

She wouldn’t have thought so, but the look in his eyes made her a believer. She felt his gaze sweeping over her body like a touch. It was more than she could bear, so she reached for him. She pulled him to her, kissing him, hoping he could taste her desire. Her need. His hands were on her again.

She reached out, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, but he pushed her hands away.

“I’m burning up.” He pushed her back against the table, lifting until she was perched on the end. His hands moved frantically, unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down with his briefs. She wanted to see and touch him, but he pushed her back, pulling a condom seemingly out of thin air and sheathing himself. Then he grabbed her hips, tilting them upward, forcing her to grab onto him to keep from falling back. “Hold on, Chelsea. You’re going for a ride.”

He shocked all her senses at once. In one hard drive, he was filling her, their moans echoing through the room.

“God, Chelsea. You’re so tight.”

The scent of sex and Jagger swirled around her, heightening the sensations. She looked into his dazzling blue eyes, feral with need and desire.

His lips crushed hers, his tongue mimicking the movements of his body. He thrust, hard and deep, completely possessing her. As if she was a part of him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, red flags waved. This was sex. She wasn’t a part of him. Would never be a part of him.

“Chelsea.” His cry was desperate. Her breath caught as his change in speed and intensity ratcheted her up and up. She wasn’t a virgin, but she’d never had a partner push her need for release to the point of desperation. With other men, pleasure had built like an itch that needed to be scratched, ending with a little pop of relief. This was no itch and she was sure that when the end came, she would shatter into a million pieces.

He shifted, releasing one of her hips so he could touch her at her most sensitive spot. “Come on. Come with me.” His thumb brushed and pressed the sensitive nub between her thighs, as his lips enveloped the hard tip of her breast and sucked and sent her flying. Her release broke through with a cry, bursting from her center outward until she could feel it at the tips of her toes. He continued to pound her, and her body continued to respond, gripping and convulsing around his pulsing erection.

An expletive escaped his lips just as he bucked, driving into her, grinding against her, and then driving in again. He threw his head back, exploding with a feral growl. He fell forward until he lay over her on the table.

His heart hammered in his chest as it lay over hers. She was a little dazed by the intensity and ferocity of their mating. All she could do was hold on to him as her world started to right itself again.

When he caught his breath, he lifted his head, his blue eyes filled with satisfaction. “You know, the whole point of coming here was to do this in a bed.”

With his words, her unsteadiness dissipated. He was right. Sex could be athletic and fun. Just like tennis. She laughed. “There’s always next time.”

He grinned. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear you say that.”

He helped her sit up and picked up her dress from the floor. Before he handed it to her, he kissed her. “Perhaps we can move this into the bedroom.”

“I thought men needed more time.”

“We do. But I still haven’t tasted you. By the time I do, I’ll probably be ready again.” He waggled his brows, his wicked blue eyes promising all sorts of delights. Then he licked his lips and she couldn’t stop the moan. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She’d just manage to stand when there was a knock at the door.

“It’s pizza.” His voice held annoyance. Then he gave a slight shrug. “We’re going to need it to survive tonight.” He gave her bottom a swat. “There’s a robe in the closet.” He pulled his pants up, buttoning them, and, with a wink, went to answer the door.

---