Page 64 of Dangerous Secrets

And now she was wearing it for her wedding night! The thought was so enticing she shivered.

She set the table carefully, bringing out the heavy white Flanders tablecloth, Grandmother Prentiss’s Limoges service and her parent’s Waterford crystal glasses. The family silver. The big, heavy silver candelabra family legend had it that her great-grandmother had used to break the skull of an intruder during the Depression.

She filled the candelabra with candles and then continued around the room. She loved candles and had them in every shape and size, most vanilla-scented. She covered the sideboard, the mantelpiece and the coffee table with candles and stood back, pleased.

Around five, she’d switch off all the lights and light the candles. Nick would come back to a candle-lit home. It would be so beautiful.

In the bedroom, she placed candles on her dresser, nightstand and the windowsills. The small cozy room looked like a bower, ready for a night of love. Between husband and wife.

What a delicious thought.

She changed the sheets on the bed, choosing her finest set—400-thread count flowered Egyptian cotton sheets, thick, starched and smelling of lavender.

Charity pulled out the nightgown and negligee. They were as gorgeous as her memory. She fingered the heavy, beautiful silk, imagining Nick’s face when he saw her in it. No princess on earth would have a finer outfit for her wedding night.

Everything was more or less ready, except for herself.

She ran a rose-scented bubble bath, a little too hot, piled her hair on top of her head with two picks and eased into the waterwith a contented sigh. The hot water sank deep fingers of heat into her, loosened her muscles. Charity tipped her head back against the rim of the bathtub and closed her eyes, inhaling the scented steam and thinking of nothing at all, completely happy.

When she opened her eyes, the bubbles had dissipated and she could see herself in the water. She took in a deep breath and watched her breasts rise. Her breasts. Nick had made love to her breasts so intently, so single-mindedly, you’d think they were a source of pleasure for him, too. If she concentrated, she could feel his mouth right now, tugging gently at her nipple.

At the thought, she could actually see her nipples swell and turn deep pink.

Every inch of her skin was sensitized by Nick. She tried to think of a part of her body he hadn’t touched, but couldn’t, unless you count internal organs. Toes, the back of her knees, elbows, belly button, the skin behind her ears. Memories, images flooded her mind and she felt a now-familiar tingle between her thighs. That tingle would be connected to thoughts of Nick until the end of time.

Her body. It amazed her that it could harbor these sensations. Where had her bodybeenall these years? With hindsight, she realized that all her life, she’d essentially thought of her body as a carrying case for her head. It required rest, good nutrition and regular exercise, but that was about it.

Who knew that there was this amazing world inside her, a world of unimagined pleasure? And it was Nick’s for the asking.

She had so many images in her head. Nick’s face as he thrust in and out of her slowly. He’d sometimes push himself up on his arms, biceps bulging, big veins standing out, and look down between them. She’d look too, watching as his big penis pulled slowly out, wet with her juices, thick and ropy. She could feel him every inch of the way, leaving emptiness when he withdrew. He’d pull out until they could see the big plum-colored headwhich turned a deep red while they were making love and wait until her eyes met his and she whimpered. Then and only then would he push back into her.

Once, Charity had curled her nails into his hard buttocks and lifted herself in frustration because he was taking it soslowly.

Her nails didn’t even dent his skin. No matter how hard she dug into him, she knew she wasn’t hurting him, couldn’t hurt him. He was amazingly hard, all over. All those martial arts lessons had created a remarkable male body.

The lips of her vagina were clasped around the big head but the rest of her was so empty . . .

Enough Nick, she’d whispered and the small half smile he’d worn disappeared. His eyes turned a deep hot blue and he’d whispered backyes, enoughand had slammed into her so hard it took her breath away. He’d begun making love in earnest, hard, long, deep strokes that made her old bed creak, so fast she thought she’d burn up with the friction . . .

With a cry, Charity climaxed in the water—hard, fast contractions that went on and on, almost as long as they did while Nick was making love to her.

She lost herself, as she always did, heat flowing throughout her body, a small sun of it concentrated between her thighs. When she came to, she unclenched her fists and relaxed her muscles again. She had a deep flush on her chest, down to her breasts. The effect of the hot water but also the climax.

Amazing.

It wasn’t the first time she’d climaxed on her own, of course. After all, she hadn’t had a lover for many years. But it was certainly the first time she’d climaxed without touching herself. And it wasn’t her usual tight, almost painful self-induced orgasm that was over almost before it began and left her feeling depleted, restless and lonely. No, it was one of those majestic,pulsing orgasms that left her feeling like the Queen of the World. A very relaxed Queen of the World.

Amazing. Nick was with her even when he wasn’t. He was in her heart, now, never to depart.

On that happy thought, her happy body climbed out of the bathtub and she began preparations worthy of a geisha. Scented moisturizer everywhere, rubbed in deeply until her very cells were fragrant. Pedicure, manicure, masque.

She pinned her hair up again, more carefully this time, letting a few tendrils fall artfully on her shoulders and began making up. Light makeup because the instant Nick began kissing her, it would all disappear immediately. No mascara. Who wanted to be the Raccoon Bride?

She slid the nightgown over her head with all the care and solemnity of a medieval knight donning armor, then slid her arms into the négligée.

She had a pair of mules, a gift from a friend, and wondered whether it would be overkill, then decided that overkill was just fine for a wedding night. Her first and only wedding night. This night would never come again. Any extravagance was justified.

She twirled in front of the mirror, delighted with what she saw. She was flushed pink, eyes bright. For tonight, she was beautiful, as all brides must be on their wedding day.

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