The first thing Sylvie did when she walked through the door was to plop down on the sofa and slip off those sexy stilettos.
Andrew felt a pang when he saw them drop to the floor.
“It was a beautiful wedding but I’m glad it’s done.” She raked a hand through her curls, dislodging several flowers from the ring.
“Before you get too comfortable.” He held out his hand and when she took it, he pulled her up against him. “Let’s dance.”
He began to sway.
“We don’t have any music,” she told him even as her steps followed his.
He brushed his lips across her hair. “We make our own music.”
She gave a happy sigh and settled against him, her body molding to his, soft where he was hard.
Rock hard.
“If you wanted to dance,” she said into his shirtfront, “we could have stayed at the reception.”
“If we’d been on the dance floor, I couldn’t have done this.” He tipped her face up to his, then lowered his mouth over hers.
She tasted like wine and cake, an erotic combination that fueled the fire coursing through his veins. He wanted this woman. He loved this woman. And he would find a way that she would be his.
Not just for tonight, but forever.