chapter Two
Honey went limp as Dex kissed her languidly, his lips moving across hers with tantalising slowness. She sighed as he brushed his tongue across her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to him, her heart increasing its pace as it usually did whenever he kissed her like this. The subtle scent of his aftershave—mixed with the aroma of warm muffins and coffee—arose from his skin, and his five o’clock shadow rasped against her cheek, but she didn’t complain. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway—when he got in this sort of mood, protesting rarely had any effect, even if she’d wanted him to stop. Which she didn’t.
He released her hands, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and slid her fingers into his ruffled hair. She glowed inside as he pressed himself up against her, his desire for her rapidly becoming evident. Dexter Concannon was kissing her. He wanted to marry her. The novelty still hadn’t worn off. She might boss him around and act as if she’d expected all along to marry the sexiest cop in the whole of New Zealand, but deep down every time she felt the physical evidence of his passion it made her want to giggle like a six year old.
And now his hands were wandering, pulling her hips against him, moving up to cup her breast beneath the white apron. She shivered in response, and her fingers tightened in his hair. Her nipple peaked as he brushed his thumb over it, and she groaned, satisfied when he gave an answering murmur of pleasure.
He moved his hips against hers, and she couldn’t help but arch against him. She ached with need. What was it going to feel like when they lay naked together, his young, strong body pressed against hers? She’d trail her fingers down his back, investigate the toned muscles, rake her nails through the hairs on his chest. She already knew he’d be good in bed—he couldn’t be anything but, with his sexy smile and gentle yet commanding police officer manner. She was pretty sure he’d be able to talk her into an orgasm with that deep voice and the hot look in his eyes.
But still, she couldn’t quite imagine what it was going to feel like to finally sleep with him, to have his weight pressing her into the bed, him sliding inside her…
Jeez, any more thoughts like that and she was going to come there and then, under the bougainvillea. She tore her mouth away, tipped her head back on the wall and closed her eyes. “Oh God, I never thought it would be this hard.”
He chuckled. “That’s not a complaint I expected.” He kissed her neck and touched his tongue to her pulse point.
She pushed him away. “Stop it. Seriously. Not while you’re wearing the uniform. I can’t cope.”
He smirked. “I’m bringing it on the honeymoon.”
“I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. “Only one more week, sweetheart. We can last that long.”
She put her arms around him, and he hugged her. Emotion washed over her again. She was so lucky to have found him. Every day she thanked heaven she’d been serving on the morning he’d come in for coffee. She’d made his latte while he waited, and her cheeks had glowed when, every time she looked up, she saw him watching her, a slight smile on his face.
She’d placed two chocolate fishes on top of the takeaway cup and passed it across to him, heart thumping.
“Two fish?” He raised an eyebrow. “I only got one last week from your dark-haired friend over there.”
“We’re all sisters,” she said, “and that’s inflation for you. Next week you get a three course meal and a ticket to The Hobbit.”
He’d started laughing and put his hat back on, and that was it—she was won.
He’d stayed long enough to ask her out for a drink, and within six weeks they were engaged. That was nearly five months ago. A long time to wait to get him into bed.
She bit her lip, the familiar doubt fluttering in her stomach like butterflies. She didn’t voice her concerns often, but for once—maybe because she missed her mother and was feeling emotional, maybe because there was only a week to go and she was starting to panic—she needed reassurance. “Do you still think we did the right thing, waiting?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Of course.” Cupping her face with a hand, he brushed her cheek with his thumb. “What’s up, sweetheart? We’ve lasted six months—why would you think now it’s been a mistake? Is this to do with your mum?”
Her throat tightened, but she shook her head. “No. It’s just…six months is a long time for a man to wait. I hope…” She swallowed. “I hope you think I was worth it.”
Pity crossed his face, and he kissed her hair. “Is this about Ian?”
The coldness that always slid down inside her like an ice cube whenever she thought about her ex made her shiver.
Dex pulled back to look at her and stroked her hair. “Come on, we talked about this. He only has power over you if you give it to him.”
“I know, but…” Nausea rose at the thought of Ian’s hard, dark gaze fixed on her as he prepared to impart some criticism. “I didn’t realise, but I’d started to forget the way he made me feel. That constant worry—as if something heavy sat on my chest. Feeling nervous and insecure all the time. It makes my skin crawl. I can’t believe I dated him for so long.”
She dropped her gaze to look at her hands. It felt important to make him comprehend how strong her feelings were about this. “I know everyone thinks I was weak for staying with him. My family doesn’t understand. But I’m not weak, Dex. It was like he had some kind of power over me. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses for not being independent and a modern woman—but at the time, I believed everything he said. I suppose it was because it happened over a long time—it wasn’t as if the day he met he started telling me what to do.”
“I know.”
“It was like a disease that gradually make me sicker, or like gorse spreading through a garden. It wasn’t until the end I realised how much he’d taken over, you know?”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You don’t have to talk about that f*cking arsehole ever again.” The fierceness in his voice belied the gentleness in his gaze.
She swallowed. “I know, but it’s just… All the things he used to say… I’ve spent months telling myself they were all lies, but the things he used to tell me in bed, about being frigid and boring… I keep worrying you’ll think the same.” Her cheeks grew warm and her eyes filled with tears again. She’d lied—this was more to do with her mother than she’d thought. Emotion simmered too near the surface for it to be a normal reaction to the closeness of her wedding.
Dex raised her chin with a hand until her eyes met his. She caught her breath. He really had the most amazing blue eyes.
He kissed her. “Honey, forget him. You’re mine now. And all I know is that I find you the sexiest, most gorgeous woman on the planet, and I can’t wait until I get you into bed.” He caught the tear that spilled out with his thumb, but didn’t scold her. “The key to good sex isn’t technique, knowing secret moves and a hundred different positions. It’s about being with someone you love. When you make love with someone you’re crazy about, it’s fantastic just being together.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. Was that how he’d felt about Cathryn? She wasn’t stupid—she knew he had a list of conquests as long as her arm and was pretty experienced in the bedroom. And it was idiotic to think he still had feelings for Cathryn when the woman had treated him so badly. But the thought of him saying these lovely things to anyone else made her shrivel inside.
She just hoped their joint decision to wait to sleep together didn’t mean they’d built up the first time in their heads to be some cataclysmic coming together when in fact it would probably be the usual bumping of noses and awkward manoeuvring to get into position, possibly with her worrying about achieving orgasm and hurting his feelings, causing her to fake it.
It had seemed like the perfect decision at the time. Ian had damaged her to such an extent that she knew it had influenced her parents’ move to New Zealand, although obviously her mother’s wish to return to the place of her birth before she died had also played a part. But Marama’s death on top of Honey’s escape from the destructive relationship had almost destroyed her, and for the six months before she met Dex, she’d been plagued with depression and thoughts of Why bother? Why carry on?
Meeting Dex had felt a little like meeting an archangel. From the beginning he’d been gentle, caring and affectionate, and she was conscious of being dazzled, and also afraid of what would happen when the glare wore off. Not that it had yet—she was still waiting for that to happen. But she was aware that if anybody showed her kindness, she warmed to them instinctively, and she knew she had to be careful not to fall for Dex just because he wasn’t the complete bastard her ex had been.
She’d tried to keep their relationship light, to have fun and keep her worries to herself, but things had turned serious rapidly in spite of her attempts to cool it, and within the first two weeks she’d told him everything, including all her fears and worries. To be fair he’d done the same, not holding back, and explaining everything about his past, from his miscreant youth to the disaster with Cathryn. It had been his suggestion they hold back from sleeping together until they were married as a way for each of them to prove to the other how serious they were, and she’d agreed with relief, thankful that even though she wanted him desperately, she wouldn’t have that side of things to worry about for a while. They could concentrate on being with each other, on getting to know one another, and by the time they were married, sex would be a way to share their love rather than a power struggle to control each other as had happened in the past for both of them.
She closed her eyes and slid her arms around him again. She didn’t want to think about Ian—she’d fled to the other side of the world to get away from him, and Dex was right—the only power he had over her now was that which she chose to give him. And whatever Dex had felt for Cathryn was well and truly gone after what she’d done to him.
The past didn’t matter. Who they’d been with, what had happened before they met—that was all irrelevant. All that mattered now was being with him, and being loved by him.
“I love you,” she whispered. She nuzzled his neck, smelling his subtle aftershave, and touched her lips to his warm skin.
“And I’m crazy about you.” He lifted her chin and kissed her again. “Want me to show you how much?”
Her lips curved. “You’re such a wicked man. Doesn’t it worry you that people might see you canoodling in your uniform?”
“I’m off duty. And ‘canoodling’? What century are you from again?”
She gave a happy sigh as he continued to press his lips across her cheeks and nose. He did adore her. She should be thankful for what she had rather than keep fabricating problems. “We are canoodling. It’s the perfect word for what we’re doing. We’re the most old-fashioned couple I know. Besides which, people don’t know you’re off duty. It’s not like there’s a sign above your head or anything.”
His thumb brushed the nape of her neck, making her shiver. “Want to canoodle some more?”
She thought about it. “Will you put your hat on?”
In answer, he retrieved it from the fence post and pulled it on. “Yes, ma’am.”
Another little shiver ran through her. “Ooh, I love it when you call me that.”
Laughing, he pushed her back against the wall and lowered his lips to hers again, the warm sun highlighting his features with bright gold.