Page 33 of Beneath the Blindfold

“I don’t want to whine,” I whispered to Logan as we began our first dance together. We were all alone on the dancefloor while our friends and family watched. “But my feet kind of hurt.”

“Yeah? Mine too.”

I had one hand on his chest and the other resting on the back of his neck as we swayed to the love song that filled the ballroom. Logan took my hand, held it away and led me through a turn under his arm. As I came back into his embrace, I stared up at him, wide-eyed. “What’s this? It’s not eight-grade dancing.”

“My mom informed me I had to up my game. That’s at least a tenth grade move I just gave you.”

“Nice.”

I was torn between not wanting the evening to end and my desire for it to be over so we could go upstairs. We laughed with our family, posed for pictures with friends, and ate a piece of our wedding cake.

My feet were aching and screaming for relief as the deejay played the final song of the night. Our crowd had thinned once the bar closed at eleven, and as soon as the song was over, the lights in the ballroom brightened. It had been an amazing day, but also exhausting.

Dominic’s arms were tight around Payton’s waist. “Logan,” he said, his tone serious, “it’s been a while for you. Let me know if you need any pointers for the wedding night.”

“Thanks, Dominic. By the way, go fuck yourself.”

Payton laughed. “He has me for that.”

As soon as the elevator doors sealed us in alone together, Logan was on me. One warm hand splayed on the bare skin of my back while his other gripped my ass tightly, pressing me into him, crushing my dress. He held me into his kiss that was an assault on all fronts. My heart, mind, and bodyneededthis man. My hand dove inside his tuxedo jacket, seeking the hardened muscles beneath the crisp dress shirt and three-button black vest.

“You have too many clothes on, boss.”

“I’m fucking aware.”

We hit our floor, he grabbed my hand, and tugged me down the hallway.

“Slow down,” I gasped. “Not all of us are runners.” He was dragging me along at break-neck speed.

“Is it faster if I carry you?”

I had no idea if he was kidding or not. We’d been together more than a year, and it wasn’t any easier to tell. “I dunno, maybe.”

A yelp escaped when his hands gripped my waist, lifting me, and not the sexy swept-up-into-his-arms kind, but the thrown-over-the-shoulder, caveman style kind of carry.

“Shit,” he groaned. “Your skirt is huge.” He banded an arm around my thighs, tucking the fabric out of his way so he could see, and took off. I bounced on his shoulder and the shorter, elbow-length veil I’d switched into for the reception hung down, trailing on the carpet.

“You don’t like my dress?”

“I didn’t say that. You took my breath away, Evie.”

My heart thumped in my chest and my face warmed with a flush, but that also could have been the blood rushing to my head because I was upside-down.

“Hey, put me down before you hurt yourself.” Although, if I were honest, I kind of liked this. His ‘I have to have you now’ attitude was seriously hot.

We were through the door and into the honeymoon suite. I couldn’t see much, but the room was softly glowing with flickering light. His strong arms braced me as I slowly slid down his body until my feet were back on the ground. The veil was flipped over my head, and Logan lifted it, brushing it back.

“Are you thirsty? There’s champagne.”

“Oh?” I turned in his arms to face the room, “. . . my God.”

A white, king-sized bed was against the left wall, decorated with a gold satin comforter and eggplant purple accent pillows. Mirrored, square lamps were perched on the nightstands. Everything was elegant and luxurious.

The back wall was like our apartment. Floor to ceiling glass with a view to die for, only this wasn’t North Beach, it was the heart of the city, and the yellow-orange windows glowed in the night.

Also glowing were glass votive candles that lined just about every flat surface in the room. No lights were on, and it was breathtaking. I stood motionless as Logan went to the ice bucket and pulled out the bottle of champagne.

My desire for him was so strong I could taste it, but instead I remained still, watching him open the bottle and pour me a glass. I gestured to the room. “Did you arrange this?”

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