“Can we leave now?” he asked, eyes dropping to my mouth.
The crowd had barely thinned, and I knew the party would probably continue on for another few hours, but right then all I wanted was to get upstairs and get my husband out of his tux.
“One more hour,” I said, pulling back his jacket sleeve to glance at his watch. It was only eight thirty. “One more hour and then I’m all yours.”
After what ended up being three hours—three hours of dancing and drunken toasts, of Max and Will carrying Bennett to the bar for a final round of “man shots,” of pure, wild celebration—Bennett came up behind me at the bar where I stood talking to Henry and Mina, and slid his arms around my waist.
“Now,” he whispered, kissing my ear.
I leaned back into him, smiling at my brother-and sister-in-law. “I think that’s my cue.”
There were no flower petals to throw in our wake, no handfuls of rice. Instead, Will and Henry grabbed handfuls of cocktail napkins and drunkenly chucked them at us as we ducked away from the bar and waved to our guests.
“Good night everyone! Thanks for coming!” I called out above the catcalls and whistles.
Bennett pulled me forward, waving over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“It was so good to see you all!” I yelled, still waving to our family and friends.
He practically dragged me away before lifting me and throwing me over his shoulder. The approval of our guests was communicated with roaring applause and another stack of napkins that caught Bennett in the back of the head.
He carried me all the way to the lobby and then slid me down his body, kissing my neck, my chin, my lips. “Ready?”
I nodded. “So ready.”
But when I turned toward the elevators, he stopped me with a big hand wrapped around my forearm. And then his other hand pulled a blindfold out of his pocket.
“What . . . ?” I asked, a wary smile spreading slowly across my face. “What are you doing with that in the lobby?”
“I’m whisking you off somewhere.”
“But we have a room upstairs,” I whined quietly. “With a big giant bed and several of your ties to get kinky with, and,” I dropped my voice, “the bottle of lube in the drawer.”
He laughed, bending to run his nose along my jaw. “There’s also a duffel bag in the limo outside that has several of my ties to get kinky with, the bottle of lube from the drawer, and a few other things.”
“What other things?”
“Trust me,” he said.
“Where are we going?” I asked, tripping after him when he tugged my hand and led me forward.
“Trust me.”
“Do we have to fly?”
He playfully smacked my ass, growling, “Christ, woman, trust me,” in my ear.
“Am I going to have orgasms tonight?”
He turned pulled me close to his side and said, “That’s the plan. Now shut up.”
Chapter Eight
Bennett helped me climb into the back of the limo and then slipped the blindfold over my face, tying it firmly behind my head. It was wide and tight; the bastard had anticipated my plan to peek, and the silken fabric covered half my face. I was left in total darkness.
But beside me, I could sense when he shifted closer, could smell the clean, crisp sagey smell of him when he leaned in, sucked gently on my collarbone.
“Are you going to fuck me in this car?” I asked, reaching out blindly for him. I found his arm and pulled it around me.
His rumbling chuckle vibrated along my collarbones, from one side to the other, and I felt him reach for the hem of my wedding dress and slowly drag it up my legs.
Bennett’s fingertips tickled their way past my knee, along the inside of my thigh and to the thin white lace barely covering my *. He slid a knuckle under the fabric, dragging it back and forth over the already-slick skin beneath.