Page 48 of Sweet Nothings

Why would Lennon have us stay at a place where there’s only one bed when we could have stayed at the house that had over a dozen to choose from?

“No, it isn’t a problem,” I whisper, my gaze falling to Lennon’s chest. “You’re my husband. I guess it’s actually the least problematic situation for us to be in.”

He’s already removed half his suit. His black button-down shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing his fully tattooed chest. I swallow, following the sharp lines and shapes taking form along his tan skin. My stomach bubbles with heat.

“Everything okay?” Lennon asks. He hasn’t moved from where he’s standing on the side of the bed.

I stay where I am near the foot of the bed and look down at my feet and the bottom of my dirt-riddled wedding dress.

“Yes,” I mutter, wanting to get out of this dress and get my mind off Lennon’s exposed chest.

How the fuck am I supposed to sleep with him and keep our marriage strictly business when he looks like this?

“I think I need a shower.” I remove my veil, folding the sheer mesh fabric over itself and placing it on top of the dresser behind me. I don’t know if the dresser belongs to Lennon or me. In fact, I don’t know what is mine and what isn’t.

Overwhelmed, I spin around, turning away from my husband. I reach behind my back, fumbling to find the zipper. I bend my hands, contorting my wrists until I’ve got a grip on the tiny metal teardrop pull. My fingers burn as I try to pull it down, but it doesn’t budge. Seriously, why do they make these zipper pulls so goddamn tiny?

I grunt in frustration when two large hands cover mine. A shiver works its way down my spine when I feel Lennon lean forward, bringing his mouth to the hollow of my ear.

“Having a little trouble? Let me help you.”

I don’t hold back. I lean into him, turning my face toward his mouth. His heavy breaths brush against my skin like the lavender flower he brushed against me in the greenhouse.

“Thank you,” I whisper, allowing my arms to fall at my sides.

Fire shoots between my legs. I’m a mess.

He’s towering over me, keeping his face close to mine. My eyes flutter before closing, breathing him in. He’s a mixture of cologne, lavender, and dirt.

He manages to get the zipper undone. My shoulders instinctively fall, the relief of my tight dress releasing its hold on me. Lennon’s body is pressed against mine as he runs his fingertips across my bare back, widening the opening of my dress. The thin silk straps of my dress fall off my shoulders.

“Better?” he asks. His fingertips feel like a feather being dragged across my skin.

I lick my lips and bite down on the bottom one. “Mmhmm.” I nod.

I’m tired and exhausted, but I’m also craving more of Lennon’s touch. I don’t want him to stop.

It’s as if he’s caught me in a trance. I’m stuck on a loop, getting high with every single touch. The more he presses, the more I let him in. I’m like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, having no fear in taking a giant bite of cake.

Our marriage vows were lies. Does that mean every dirty word and every heated touch is a lie as well? I can’t make sense of what’s right or wrong, up or down. All I know is how it feels when I’m with him. How it’s always felt.

Our wedding has broken down a wall we’ve built up until this point. The moment Lennon led me to the greenhouse, and I willingly went with him, was the moment everything changed. Lies blurred into releasing all of our inhibitions. Our kiss at the altar opened the floodgates. We either haven’t been able to shut them or we don’t want to. We don’t fight the current, allowing it to take us with it instead.

Sliding his hands underneath my dress, Lennon pulls the fabric away from my back, allowing the dress to fall off my shoulders. The straps slide down my arms as Lennon’s hands work their way around my back to the side of my ribs. Hisfingertips leave a blazing trail across my skin as he grips both of my breasts in his large hands.

I gasp and tilt my head back, resting it against his chest. He’s taller than me, at least by ten inches. I’ve always been short and haven’t grown since I was in the eighth grade. But even with him towering over me, I feel safe with Lennon. His touch is gentle yet measured with purpose, taking care to know it means more than just a simple touch.

He cups each of my breasts in his hands, allowing them to fill his large palms. His hands are only on one part of my body, but I feel him everywhere. I moan, rolling my hips back until I press against his hardened cock straining against his pants.

Gliding his thumbs over my pebbled nipples makes me gasp again.

“Do you like it when I touch you like this?” he asks quietly.

“Yes.” My straps fall out of my arms, and my dress bunches around my hips. The upper half of my body is completely exposed. Lennon’s hands continue to massage my breasts. He glides his thumbs over my nipples, pinching them ever so slightly before he repeats the cycle.

“I want your mouth on me,” I admit, wishing he’d kiss me.

“Like this?” he asks, gently placing his lips on my shoulder. I roll my head away from him, exposing more of my neck.

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