His loins pulsed and ached, and he felt her hands reach up between them, flattening against his chest as if to stave off the attack on her body he very nearly perpetrated in front of their guests.
The sound of knowing snickers and Pastor Jamison clearing his throat permeated Derrick’s heated brain and brought him back to the present. Eva must have heard them, too, because she withdrew at almost the same instant he did and pressed the tips of her fingers to her mouth.
Derrick dragged his tongue across his lower lip, relishing the fading taste of her as she averted her eyes. Her uneven breaths drew his gaze to her full bosom. What he wouldn’t give to get her alone right then.
What the hell was it about her that had him so strung out? He’d almost mounted her in front of hundreds of people.
The pastor cleared his throat again and made the customary announcement to all the guests. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Derrick Hoffman!”
Chapter Six
From his seat at the bar, Derrick watched his half brother, Roarke Hawthorne, walk up with his stepdaughter, Arianna, in his arms. An outsider would never guess he wasn’t her biological father. They had become close in a short time.
The six-year-old had been running around with some of the other kids, but her sagging body and head on Roarke’s shoulder indicated she was done for the night. She was cute, wearing a lavender dress and her hair in two big Afro puffs held in place with lavender and white ribbons.
He scanned the ballroom, filled with empty round tables because most of the guests had already left. The band played a sultry song, and a few couples swayed to the music on the dance floor. The wedding decorations included colorful floral arrangements in the middle of each table and amber and blue decorations throughout the room—not blue, teal, they’d told him, as if it mattered.
Each guest left with two bottles of wine from the Chateau élan vineyard. The bottles, bearing a customized label with Derrick and Eva’s names and the date of the wedding, were individually wrapped in mesh bags tied at the top with ribbon.
“Well, how does it feel?”
Derrick shrugged. “Feels the same.”
He sipped some of the champagne in his glass. Over the years, Derrick had harbored bitter resentment against him because Roarke Sr. had chosen to stay with his wife and child and reject Derrick.
A lot had changed. A few months ago, they’d agreed to call a truce and work on establishing a better relationship. Despite the short notice, Roarke had agreed to be the best man, and their younger brother, Matthew, had agreed to be one of the groomsmen.
“Hi there. I thought I’d squeeze in a hug since I didn’t get a chance to earlier.” Celeste, Roarke’s wife, walked up and wrapped her arms around Derrick. “I guess I’ve dropped to second most important woman in your life.”
“You had your chance, but you chose to marry him.” Derrick pointed his thumb at Roarke. He’d been friends with Celeste long before she met Roarke, and in fact, he told them if it hadn’t been for him, they never would have gotten together.
Tall, with her short, wavy hair falling in loose strands around her face, Celeste smiled lovingly at her husband and stroked his bearded face. “I think I did all right.”
“That’s my baby,” Roarke murmured, planting a kiss on her lips.
A groan sounded nearby. It came from Matthew. Although the youngest, he was taller and beefier than his older brothers. He sauntered up. “You guys are going to make me throw up. When is the honeymoon period over already?”
“We’ve been married less than two months,” Celeste reminded him with a playful punch to the shoulder. “Can we enjoy it a little bit longer, if you don’t mind?”
“Well, all right, I’ll give you a few more months.” He tugged on his tie. “Man, I can’t wait to get out of this damn monkey suit.”
Celeste frowned at Matthew and darted her eyes at her daughter.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, looking embarrassed. “This doggone monkey suit.”
Celeste turned to Derrick. “So, how does it feel?” she asked.