He hesitated for a beat, staring at his book before turning and placing it carefully on the bedside table. And then he peeled the blankets all the way off my legs and studied me in the muted light of the table lamp.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, bending to kiss my neck, my collarbone, and the top swell of my breast.
Victory exploded with adrenaline in my veins and I closed my eyes, arching my spine so he could unclasp my bra, lifting my ass so he could carefully remove the tiny skirt around my panties. But I opened my eyes, studying him as he gently peeled the stockings down my legs, planting only a single kiss on the inside of each knee.
Something was off.
When I lay only in my panties, Bennett looked up at me and smiled wickedly before grasping them and sliding them down my legs, dropping them undamaged on the floor beside the bed.
“Better?” he asked, stifling a laugh.
I glared at him, trying to burn a hole in his forehead with my eyes. “You’re a prick.”
His eyes danced. “I know.”
“Do you know how much I want to feel you on top of me? Did you not see that lingerie? It was ridiculous! You could have ripped it with your teeth!”
“It was stunning.” Bennett bent and kissed my mouth so sweetly, so fully, that my chest squeezed almost painfully in pleasure. “I know how much you want it. I want it, too.” He nodded to his shorts, where he was so hard I could see the tip of his cock pressing up from beneath the waistband. “I’m asking you to trust me.”
He reached to turn off the light, and then turned so that he was on his side facing me. “Tell me you love me.”
I ran my hands up his bare chest and into his hair. “I love you.”
“Now go to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day. The rest of the guests arrive, we rehearse our wedding, and I am one day closer to being your husband. After that, I will never deny you again.”
He kissed me slowly, all firm, warm lips, no tongue, no sounds, just his mouth on mine, sweetly sucking and soothing me until I felt serene, and doted on, and even drowsy enough to imagine I could fall asleep next to this man and not need to be worn-out from orgasms.
I woke up to an otherwise-empty bed. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, and I started to fall back asleep before remembering that Bennett wouldn’t be up working; we were in San Diego for our wedding. My heart exploded in panic and a cold, sick feeling of déjà vu crept into my stomach. What if Bennett was sick?
I bolted upright and looked at the light under the bathroom adjoining our darkened bedroom. Climbing out of bed, I moved into the main room of our suite and to the small bathroom adjoining the living area. The light under there was on, and I tiptoed forward, not sure whether I should call out to him or just go back to bed and hope that he was okay.
I blinked, taking a step backward and remembering the only other time I’d seen Bennett sick—the food poisoning incident I’d discussed with Sara earlier.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I’d asked him.
“Because the last thing I needed was you in there, watching me throw up.”
“I could have done something. You don’t have to be such a man.”
“Don’t be such a woman. What could you have done? Food poisoning is pretty lonely business.”
Resolved to leave him alone, I started to turn back to the bedroom . . .
Until I heard a quiet groan.
My heart twisted in sympathy and my pulse picked up speed. I moved to the door, putting my hand against the wood. Just as I was about to call out to him, to ask if he needed a Popsicle or some ginger ale, he moaned and sounds of pleasure escaped in his deep voice: “Oh, fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”
I pulled my hand back from the door and slapped it over my mouth, stifling a gasp. Was he . . . ? Did he escape to the nonbedroom bathroom so he could. . . ?