“Then what are you worried about?” Darcy asked.
I was saving something important to Scarlett and vice versa. It was a good match from both sides. But that knot in my stomach just wouldn’t go away. “If I wasn’t paying her, you think a woman like that would marry me?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what had made me ask the question but as I did, I realized I’d been thinking the same thing for a couple of days now. Would a woman as sophisticated and beautiful as Scarlett ever want to settle down with a selfish, confirmed bachelor like me? I’d always assumed I could get married if I wanted. But perhaps the right woman wouldn’t be interested.
Darcy didn’t answer and when I glanced up to stare at her in the mirror, I found her looking at me. “If you didn’t need to marry her, would you?” she asked.
I chuckled, but it was forced. “You know I’m not the marrying kind. Too many women to limit myself to just one.”
Normally, Darcy punched me in the arm when I said something like that, but this time she acted as if she hadn’t heard me. “I think she’d be lucky to marry you even if you weren’t paying her. And something tells me she knows that.”
“What do you mean?” Had she spoken to Scarlett about me?
“Just that I like the two of you together. I’ve seen you in uncomfortable situations, making decisions about things that don’t sit well with you, but when you’re with Scarlett, I don’t see any of that. I see you being yourself, the way you really only are with me and Grandfather. Something tells me that if you weren’t such a confirmed bachelor, Scarlett might just be woman enough for you.”
Twenty
Ryder
Scarlett King was my wife and I was her husband. And it didn’t feel as strange as I’d expected it to.
We’d left most people downstairs, drinking and enjoying the music. When my wife had said she was tired and her feet hurt, I’d brought her upstairs.
“The sun will rise before they all get to bed,” Scarlett said, smiling over her shoulder at me as she entered our bedroom.
I didn’t respond. I was too taken with the skin exposed by her backless dress.
“They seemed to have had a good time.” She kicked off her shoes as we got inside and she reached around her back for the buttons of her dress toward the bottom of her back.
“Hey, let me,” I said, gently knocking her hands away.
“Thank you.”
I hooked my fingers under the fabric, stroking her smooth, soft skin. I wasn’t sure any woman I’d ever known had had skin as perfect as Scarlett’s. I popped the first satin button free of the loop of satin that held it in place, revealing a tiny amount of extra flesh.
“You think everyone enjoyed themselves?” she asked.
I couldn’t care less. “Did you?”
She tilted her head, creating a beautiful porcelain curve. “Yes. It was so much fun. You’re a good dancer.”
I popped open another button. And another.
“You said that already.” I’d had fun twirling her around the dance floor, but it was an excuse to hold her close and to keep her away from people who wanted our attention. I was happy just to be with her. We’d held the reception in the ballroom and because there hadn’t been many people for the wedding breakfast, it had left a lot of room to dance.
“We’ve only been married a few hours and I’m repeating myself. I’m boring you already.”
I wasn’t sure Scarlett was capable of boring anyone. “Never.”
Pop. Pop. Pop. Her dress undone, I watched as she took half a step forward and peeled the satin off her shoulders, stepping out of her gown revealing her pale-cream lace underwear. She turned and I had to reluctantly drag my eyes up her body to meet her satisfied smile.
“It’s La Perla. You like it?”
My gaze swept down to take her in again. Her dress had been seemingly simple and demure. But underneath it, she’d been hiding an outfit that would make a priest hard. Her breasts spilled out of the cups of her bra. A corset pulled her waist into a sleek hourglass, the white fabric almost see-through. A tempting tease. The tops of her thighs were circled in lace and, framing her pussy, hung the straps of her garters.
“Yeah, I like it,” I said, my voice croaky and coated in lust. I cleared my throat but let my eyes continue to wander up and down her body. At every point the lace gave way to flesh—the top of her thigh, either side of her garter, her breasts—there was a promise of something that I wanted to savor. Memorize. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
She lifted her arms, stretching her body, her hips gently swaying as she fiddled with her hair, pulling out a pin.
“Let me,” I said, desperate to undress, untie, undo her.
I stepped forward, careful not to brush my body against hers. I wanted to take this slowly. Savor her. If I felt too much of her heat too soon, I’d be lost. Her hair had been fixed up, but I preferred it down. I liked the way the silky strands felt against my skin, between my fingers, over my cock.
She pulled a pin free and her hair tumbled down her shoulders. She shivered, though I was pretty sure it was more than her hair giving her goosebumps. She wanted me just like I wanted her. We were equal in our lust for each other, and in so many other ways. I knew I could make her laugh and she had me chuckling more often than I could remember. She was as passionate about what she did as I was. She had a real sense of family—I was just as lucky.
I wanted her and she wanted me.
And now, we were married.
I pulled out the final pin and slid my fingers through her hair and over her scalp. “There. I like it better like this.”
She closed her eyes in a long blink. “Then I’ll only wear it down from now on.”
I groaned at the thought that she’d change the way she wore her hair for me. To have a smart, independent woman want to please me above herself? It felt more powerful than anything I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t resist her any longer, and I slid my hands around her back and pulled her against me.
“It’s our wedding night,” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said. Perhaps those words should have made me pull away—after all, I’d been running from commitment my entire life. But nothing about being bound to the woman in my arms frightened me. “I’m going to make sure you remember it.”
“I know you will,” she said.
As I lifted her, she wrapped her legs around my waist and twined her arms around my neck, pressing her mouth to my jaw as I walked us over to the bed. It seemed fitting that I’d fuck my wife in a bed—traditional. At least for the first time tonight. Back in New York, I’d have her in every room in my apartment. I’d enjoy hearing her screams echo out across Manhattan.
As I set her down on the mattress, she dragged her hands down my chest. “You’re still dressed.”