Page 106 of Offside Angel

“Good.” He doesn’t slow or stop as he wraps his arms around my waist and walks me back until I’m pressed against the brick wall of the house. Our house.

He plants his palms on either side of my head, caging me in with his body. The heat rolling off of him is insulating against the evening chill. “I’ve wanted to get you to myself all fucking day. Even before I saw you in this dress.”

His fingers smooth over the delicate tulle straps, and I’m painfully aware of how easily he could shred this dress off of me… and how much I wish he would.

“You’re the one who wanted a formal wedding. I would’ve gotten married in front of Fake Elvis—twenty minutes in and out—but you wanted our friends and family there.”

“Maybe I wanted to draw it out. Maybe I’m into edging.” He nuzzles his stubbled cheek against mine. My body vibrates where he touches me. I can’t take it, but I also need more. “Waiting almost drove me crazy. You’ve been driving me to distraction for hours. It’s a miracle I got through my vows without dropping to my knees and tasting you.”

Speaking of miracles, it’s a miracle I’m still human-shaped instead of a melted puddle of desire on the ground.

I press my hand to Zane’s chest just to make sure he’s real and this isn’t all a dream. His heart thuds against my palm a bit too fast. “We’re married now, you know.”

His eyes flutter closed like I just said something sinfully dirty. “Believe me, I’m aware.”

“If I remember right, your plan was to marry me and then carry me over a threshold before you rip this dress off of me with?—”

I yelp as Zane scoops me into his arms and carries me towards the patio doors.

I think he’s going to turn down the hall towards our room, but he turns for the kitchen instead. He sets me on the spacious counter littered with party leftovers, and I don’t even have time to complain about the bite of the cold marble through my dress before Zane slips the straps down my shoulders and has me bare from the waist up.

“I thought you were going to rip it off with your teeth.”

“It’s pretty and you look good in it. I don’t want to ruin it.” He scrapes his teeth over my shoulder instead, kissing his way over my collarbone while he curls both hands around my chest. He lifts my breast to his mouth, moving over me with gentle nips until his control slips and his teeth sink into me.

“You bit me!” I yelp.

“I already told you,” he growls against the sting, kissing away the tenderness. “You look edible.”

The bite already feels good. I want him to do it again. But I lift my chin. “Well, I’m not. If you keep that up, I’ll be ruined.”

When he looks up at me, his eyes are dark and his smile is vicious. “You’re not so fragile, Mira. You can take it.”

Before I can find the words, Zane pushes me back onto the counter. The marble is frigid on my skin, but my body flames where Zane touches me. He lifts my hips and slides my dress down, discarding it somewhere on the floor. Calloused fingers scrape over my legs, hesitating over the garter belt around my thigh and the lace arching over my hips.

“Just for me,” he breathes against the inside of my leg. Goosebumps explode in his wake. Every part of me is alive and responsive.

I should be doing something in return—touching him, making him feel as worked up as I am—but I lie back and let Zane explore. He kisses my knees, my thighs, the crease of my hips, then strokes his thumb over the triangle of lace at my center.

And just like that, I pretty much cease breathing.

I grab at his shirt and try to pull him higher, but he shrugs my hands away and takes his time, as if we have an endless amount of it. As if there is no limit to how long we can taste and touch and tease.

Come to think of it, he might be right.

He parts me with his hands, planting stubbly kisses along the hem of my panties. He must be able to see how wet I am, smell it, taste it. I’m throbbing and it’s a miracle I haven’t finished from the anticipation alone.

“I chose these because they were supposed to drive you crazy,” I complain, squirming to get his mouth where I want it. “You were supposed to go wild and rip them off of me.”

I feel him smile. Feel a wide-mouthed kiss pressed to my very center over the fabric. “As a kid, if I liked the wrapping, I would peel the tape from my presents and fold the paper neatly for later. I liked taking my time.”

“You were one of those kids?” I groan. “You definitely like edging, then.”

“You’re the prettiest present I’ve ever seen, Mira Whitaker. I don’t want to rush it.” His hands span across my thighs, his thumbs stroking devastating vibrations on either side of my pulsing pussy.

“Zane…”

He takes mercy on me and slides the lace to one side. His warm breath washes over my wetness before his thumb settles there, stroking.

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