Page 97 of It's Complicated

I search his eyes. “What’s up?”

He pushes a wayward lock of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know what to do.”

I consider the affirmation. From the way he has been kissing me over the past month, I’m pretty sure Jace Barlow knows his way around a woman’s body. So I don’t suppose he’s talking about practical lessons here.

“How do you mean?”

My husband trails a finger over my collarbone, leaving a trail of icy cold fire in its wake. “I’ve dreamt of this night for so long… now I don’t know which fantasy I want to live first.”

A wide, randy smile creeps across my face. “Maybe if you shared a few of those fantasies, I could help you sort through the most promising ones…”

The hint of a grin plays at the corner of Jace’s mouth. “That’s not something I had considered, but you make a good point, Princess.”

Princess. The nickname causes a warm flood to spread across my body as if instead of blood, melted honey was coursing through my veins.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. The thump-thump-thump so loud, I’m certain Jace can hear it too.

“Mmm… We could take it slow… or fast?” I suggest, starting with the basics.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want fast, I want slow.”

Jace gives me the sweetest, most genuine, most loving smile. His doting expression makes him look so vulnerable. So open-hearted, so sweet, so different from the “can’t touch this” Jace I’ve been picturing for all these years. In my head, he used to be all danger and cockiness. The bad boy. I couldn’t have been more wrong. His projected confidence has always been a shield to protect the exposed heart underneath. A heart that’s always been beating for me.

I’m still overwhelmed by how much I love him, by how much he loves me back.

Jace twirls a loose lock of my hair around his finger and a breath hitches in my throat.

“I want to savor every second of this night,” he continues.

I’m tempted to reply that he should get down to it. That all this talking and not doing is torture, sweet anticipation. But he’s waited for me for so long, I can be patient for a few more minutes.

“I want to memorize the shape of you, the scent of your hair, the feel and taste of your skin,” Jace says, his voice low, rasping, grating on my very soul. “I want to remember the way you’re looking at me right now, that sparkle of love and desire in your eyes. It drives me crazy, Lola.”

I can sympathize with the sentiment. My breath is coming in quick gasps, his words smothering me with their intensity.

“I want to know every inch of you,” Jace continues. “Every secret spot, every quirk and turn of your body and soul. I want to kiss every inch of your skin and trace every curve with my hands…”

Listening to his plans is enough to threaten to melt me in my skin. Gosh, if the guy can get me so worked up by just talking… what will happen when he finally does all those things?

“I want to take my time with you, so I will remember every moment of our first time, our wedding night.”

His words send another warm rush through my body. Jace’s voice washes over me, smooth and soft, but with a hint of steel. Not for the first time, I become aware that Jace Barlow is made of so much more than good looks and an amazing body.

I clear my throat. “You should take up public speaking. I’m feeling pretty inspired. Real rallied up.”

Jace’s icy blue eyes twinkle with amusement and… something else. Love? Lust? All the above?

I reach forward, threading my fingers through Jace’s hair, drawing his face close to mine. Our lips meet, tentatively at first, and then, like a dam breaking, we’re kissing as if our ability to breathe depended on it.

This time, I’m the one who pulls back. I cup his face, his beautiful, sexy face.

“I love you.” Searching his eyes to make sure he truly understands me. “It doesn’t matter what we do tonight, how we do it, or how many times. You won’t wake up tomorrow discovering this has all been a dream. We’re here. I’m yours…”

My husband doesn’t say a word, but his lips are on mine again in an instant, crushing, devouring all at once. I’m kissing him back, hungrily, and pulling his tuxedo jacket off at the same time.

I stumble backward on the mattress and Jace tumbles on top of me, still kissing me, our hands tangling and tripping over each other’s clothes. He quickly gains control of the situation. The tuxedo jacket flies off the bed, and, now that the back zipper of my dress is undone, he tears my corset down my front with a single yank.

I guess that’s how “slow” we’re going at it—not that I’m complaining.

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