Page 43 of Sweet Nothings

It's been years since I’ve kissed her, but my reaction remains the same. It feels as if my body is going to explode from the sheer liquid heat pumping through my veins. With my other hand, I cradle her face, running my thumb along her jaw. Her arms tighten around me as she fists my suit between her small fingers. She opens her mouth enough for me to massage my tongue with hers. She must think the kiss has gone on too long for the first kiss, or because the entirety of our guests knows this marriage hasn’t been born out of love. It’s born out of contract.

Unraveling her arms from me, she grabs onto my hand, pulling it away from her face. I immediately feel her absence.

I want to say fuck it, I don’t care if everyone is watching. The fire in my chest is no longer a flickering spark. It’s a full-on raging bonfire at this point.

With heat blooming in her cheeks, Laurel looks at me with a similar fire in her eyes. She didn’t want our kiss to end either, and the fear in her expression tells me she wasn’t expecting to feel this way. She only ended it before giving others a reason to ask questions.

She trails her tongue across her lips again, tasting the taste of me on them.

I clear my throat, silently telling myself to remain calm and pull myself back down to earth. But it’s difficult when Laurel hooks her arm in mine and my eyes fall to my ring wrapped around her finger.

Reality sinks in. Laurel is officially mine.My wife.

We walk down the aisle with her arm still hooked around mine. This wasn’t part of the plan. We were supposed to stay outside, chatting with our family and friends until our brief reception, but I can tell by the way Laurel’s arm stiffens around mine that she needs to take a breath.

I lead her through the garden until we’ve reached the greenhouse standing in the farthest corner of the property. We don’t speak a word until we’re inside and I’ve spun her around so her back lands against the glass wall.

We’re surrounded by plants and mounds of dirt. The air is thick with the scent of wet earth and fresh, unplanted flowers.

My hand is quick to go to her bare thigh peeking through the slit in her dress.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here,” Laurel whispers over the hiccup in her breathing. My finger has managed to inch its way higher up her leg.

“I own this place. We can be anywhere we want to be.”

“Well, for a marriage that’s only meant to be on paper, I don’t think we should be in here. Like this…” Her eyes fall to my mouth.

I’m still thinking about our kiss and how I’m left unsatisfied. I want more. I crave more.

“Are you okay?” I ask her. I feel like it’s an unusual question to ask your bride, but this entire marriage is unusual.

“I’m fine.” Her gaze is still bouncing back and forth across my face.

I move my hand from her thigh and grab a flower from the wooden workbench beside us; a short green stem full of lavender colored petals. One of the gardeners must have left it behind without giving it a home.

Laurel watches as I bring the flower between us and drag it down the center of her chest.

“Lavender,” she whispers.

“Is that what this is?” I ask, the corner of my mouth curling into a smirk.

She rests her head back onto the moisture-covered glass. I’d forgotten the watering system my mother installed in here years ago. Every few hours, sprinklers bolt into the ceiling to spray water on all the plants along the back wall.

“My back is wet,” she says. “Among other things.”

My cock swells in my black pants. She slides her other leg between mine, pressing it against me. I groan, lowering the flower to her leg.

“The thoughts that ran through my mind when I saw you walking toward me in this dress.” My confession swirls in the damp air between us.

Her skin prickles with goosebumps as I lightly drag the flower up her leg. “This dress wasn’t cheap,” she adds, her eyes half closed. “It cost over twenty thousand from what Olivia told me.”

“Twenty thousandischeap,” I tell her, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“You sound like a rich, arrogant snob when you say things like that.” Her hands wrap around my arms. The pressure of her fingers gripping me deepens.

“Well, this rich, arrogant snob is now your husband, and you belong to me.” I drag the flower over her pussy.

She shivers with the motion, pulling in a short gasp of air between her glossy lips. I drag my thumb across her bottom lip.

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