Page 48 of The Sweet Spot

“No, baby. You’re the crazy one. But I fucking love it. Now strip.” He pulls his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor before I can move.

I’m lost in the perfection that is my new husband’s chest. Like a golden god, each tanned beautiful muscle is carved to perfection from his pecs to his abs down to the mouthwatering V of his obliques. “Now let me see what’s under that dress, red.” His pupils blow wide with want, and my fears start to subside. “Did you wear pretty panties for me?”

“Maybe,” I taunt without moving. This man has no clue how vast my lingerie collection is, and I think I’m going to have fun teasing him with it. This could be fun.

“Show me,” he demands, and it’s so fucking hot.

Who knew I’d like a bossy man?

He stalks toward the bed, eyes locked on mine, and runs his tongue over his lip, hungry, and my God, his hunger is such a turn-on. Long, rough fingers skim over the bare skin on my shoulder and under the strap of my sundress when he says, “Were you thinking about me...”— his gaze rakes over me, lingering on my mouth for a beat too long before he swallows—“when you got dressed? Did you think about how it would feel when I peeled your clothes off you?”

Both straps are slid down my arms, and I nod, breathless.

Utterly incapable of forming a coherent thought.

“Words, wife. I want to hear you.”

Deacon

Brynlee sits on her knees on the bed, her gorgeous green eyes glazed with need as her delicate fingers play with her top button, and without thinking, I reach for her. Desperate to taste her skin, but my girl slaps my hands away instead.

She pops open the top button on her black linen sundress, then the next one and the next until a scrap of green lace—so dark it rivals the color of her eyes—peeks past the hem. My mouth waters. “I thought of you,” she finally whispers, and her words go right to my already-hard cock.

“Tell me...” I move closer but don’t touch this time. Not yet.

“About whether you’d like lace or silk,” she adds as her hands slide down to the belt tied at her waist. “If you’d like French cut or thong.”

Fucking hell, she’s killing me.

Her hands slide inside the dress, pushing it down until it pools at her feet, and she’s left standing in front of me like a goddess. Dark green lace shimmers against her pale skin, giving teasing glimpses of the forbidden. The hint of a pale pink nipple. The outline of a bare pussy. The damp spot between her legs. “I wondered whether you’d like what you see.”

I step forward without words and watch, a man balancing on a tightrope as Brynlee presses her hot lips to the base of my throat. Fuck. It’s like she’s struck a match, and we’re both watching it burn down, waiting to see who gives in first.

“Brynnlee...” I growl in warning, unsure how much more I can take.

She presses another kiss against my skin before ghosting her lips over mine.

“Our marriage might not be real, Deacon, but I need us to be. Please...” she pleads, and any control I thought I had disappears along with all the oxygen in the room.

Swallowed whole by the fire.

Slowly... I move so goddamn slowly... slow enough that I can commit every inch of this woman’s body to my memory—so years from now when I’m old, and no doubt alone, I’ll still remember this woman and this night. I slide my hands over her ribs and under her breasts before dragging her closer, needing to feel her against me. Wanting to take my time. To savor her.

She moves closer with each slide of skin on skin.

Each touch, until I bend my knees and cup her face in my hands, bringing us eye to eye. “We are real, red. Nothing has ever been this real. Fuck everyone else.”

She ghosts her lips over mine with a smile. “I’d rather fuck you, Deacon.”

“Crazy girl,” I growl against her mouth. “Tonight, we take our time,” I promise her before my tongue slides against hers. Teasing her. I want to learn every way there is that makes this woman melt. All the ways to coax that sexy sigh out of her again... and again. Every place to kiss. To suck. To bite. I want to earn all her pleasure, so I can own all her orgasms.

The air around us is charged like an electrical storm.

You know the destruction it brings will be massive, but the beauty that comes first is worth the pain.

Our mouths crash together, like a heavy clap of thunder, and I wrap a hand around her head and fist her long hair, deepening our kiss. Controlling it. Running my teeth over her soft lips, swallowing her sighs, and sliding my tongue against hers.

Desperate for this woman who just gave me a piece of herself I didn’t deserve.

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