Rebecca had been about to follow the bellboy into the suite when Kane’s words rang in her head. She stilled immediately, feeling a little shiver of thrill at the authority in his voice. No one’s voice had ever had that kind of effect on her. Only his. Only her husband’s.
“Why not?” she asked daringly, deliberately holding one foot just above the threshold, knowing the small act of defiance would bring dancing silver flames to his blue eyes.
In one swift move he leaned over and swept her into his arms. “Because tradition says I must carry you over the threshold.”
She laughed, her hands winding over broad shoulders to wrap about his neck. “I thought that was only in a house.”
“It is wherever I intend to fulfill my marital obligations,” he rumbled huskily. “So it will include the threshold of every hotel room, house, apartment, cabin, and various public establishments we enter in the next fifty years or so.”
His words had her arching in his arms, her body already aching for him. The bellboy was just beginning his spiel when Kane seemed to realize he was still there.
“Get out,” he barked at the young man, slipping a hundred dollar bill into his palm. The bellboy had no further issues with making a quick exit, though whether it was the bark or the tip that did it was not clear.
Kane carried her to the large bed, setting her down gently. “Wait here,” he told her with a wicked gleam in his eye. “And don’t move.”
Rebecca reached for him, pouting at the sudden loss of contact, making him chuckle. The deep, male sound sent a rush of warmth forward from her center. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.
“Patience, sweetheart.” He began to walk away, and her eyes raked over him hungrily. Her husband was a fine man, indeed, and before the end of the night, she would finally know every inch of that hard, muscled body he guarded so selfishly.
He stopped suddenly and turned to find her ogling him. A slow, hungry smile spread over his face. “And don’t even think about taking off any of your clothes,” he instructed silkily. “Or I will spank you.”
A significant shiver went through her at his promise. Well, that didn’t sound so bad...
“And I will make you wait another day,” he added with a wicked gleam in his eye.
It was a bluff, surely, but Rebecca wasn’t willing to take the chance. She fell back on the bed in pure frustration. But she did not so much as remove the comb from her hair. She was so afraid he would make good on his threat, she even scrambled off the bed in desperation for the shoe that inadvertently dropped off when he had placed her there, just in case he thought she had disobeyed him.
When Kane emerged from the bathroom, he had removed his jacket, and loosened his tie as well as undid the first few buttons near the collar of his shirt. His gait was a prowl, his eyes nothing less than ravenous as he drank her in. Still fully clothed, she had poured a glass of champagne for each of them.
“How come you got to get started?” she pouted when he sat down on the bed next to her. She wasted no time in placing her lips upon the slight bit of skin he had uncovered, licking along his collarbone. The champagne was good, but her husband was delicious. Kane groaned in response.
“Because,” he said, his voice hoarse, “I want the pleasure of undressing you myself.”
One large hand rested upon her thigh. He let it trail downward slowly, as though memorizing the contours of her legs beneath the silky stockings; touching lightly behind her knee; caressing the curve of her calf; cuffing around her ankle before removing the small heels she wore. Then he repeated the process on the other side.
When both shoes were off, he pulled both feet into his lap and began to massage them with slow, deliberate movements.
She moaned, throwing back her head as the pressure within her built with every stroke, every knead, every caress. “Kane, as wonderful as that feels, do you think maybe we could come back to that later?”
He laughed. “Impatient, Mrs. Callaghan?”
She rolled her eyes and moaned in ecstasy at the sound of that, not to mention the incredible skill of those strong hands. “Yes....”
“You have waited this long. Indulge me in my fantasy for a bit longer, won’t you?”
She opened her eyes. “This is your fantasy? Massaging my feet?”
“No,” he smiled. “Making love to you is. Every part of you. Slowly. Thoroughly. Completely. So that you can think of nothing but me and what I am doing to you.”
Rebecca moaned. And whimpered. Maybe both. And for the first time, she wasn’t sure she was going to survive her wedding night.
“Ah, but you will,” he promised when she voiced her growing concerns. Her body was so hot she felt feverish; the need within her was growing steadily out of control. Already she was shaking in anticipation, and he had barely done more than remove her shoes and rub her feet.