stone hearth. Fragrant candles of various sizes and shapes sat on every available surface. Fresh flower petals had been dropped around the bed, their fragrance filling the room.
“Oh, Jack,” she breathed. “You did all of this?”
“Do you like it?” he asked softly.
“It’s perfect .”
Jack carried his new bride to the bed and set her down gently. He pulled the bottle of chilled champagne from the bucket on the bedside table and poured them each a glass. Slipping off his shoes, he joined her in bed and sat down beside her.
“To my beautiful wife,” he began, curling his arm with hers so they drank from each other’s glasses. “ Mo croie beloved . I will love you, always.”
“As I will love you, mo croie beloved ,” she answered.
“Want more?” Jack asked, taking her empty glass.
“Yes,” she answered, “but not champagne.”
He grinned wolfishly, answering the desire in her eyes with his own. “Let me get right on that.”
“Yes, please do.”
He laughed, setting the glasses off to the side. “Are you warm enough?” he asked, kissing the bare skin of her shoulders as he removed the jacket he’d lent her. His hands were shaking; not with fear, but with anticipation. It was an effort to move slowly when all he wanted to do was rip that thin strip of silk from her body and claim it the way he’d dreamed.
“Aye,” she whispered.
The flickering candlelight danced over her skin, so smooth and fragrant, unmarred and perfect. Her unique scent was firmly ingrained in his olfactory memory, synonymous with everything good in his world. He didn’t know what kind of body lotion or perfume she wore, but whatever it was, he was going to buy her cases of it.
Jack tugged at the delicate straps of her slip, dragging it down to reveal full breasts encased in yet more white satin. “Are you nervous?”
“No. Just anxious.”
He pressed kisses to her skin, tracing the outline of lace. With each one, her breasts heaved a bit more. She arched toward him, her nipples now clearly visible. It was more temptation than a man could take. He tugged that down, too, the breath escaping his lungs in a whoosh when the tips pebbled beneath his gaze.
His mouth closed around one even as his hands began to blindly work at the clasp. She gasped and thrust her fingers into his hair.
“Ah, Jack. You have the right of it,” she hummed, her natural brogue rising to the surface and coloring her words. It sent yet another bolt of lusty desire straight into his groin. He gently nipped and sucked in reward.
Her nails scraped against his scalp as his hands continued their mission to remove anything between them. With his mouth happily teasing her breasts, he mapped out the rest of her curves and dips, committing them to memory. His easy exploration should have ratcheted his desire to unbearable levels, but it didn’t. Secure in the knowledge that she was now his, he could take his time and savor her with the reverence she deserved.
Tingling fingers trailed down the outside of her thigh. As if pulled by a string, her knee lifted and rubbed against him. “You have far too many clothes on, Mr. Callaghan,” she observed.
Jack wasn’t ready to lay skin to skin with her just yet. His control, while on a tight leash, was manageable; but if his bare cock touched any of that soft, creamy flesh, it would snap completely.
“Please, Jack,” she begged. Her hands left his head and made quick work of his black tie, then moved down to his starched white shirt, opening the buttons with skill and dexterity until she reached his cummerbund. A brief feminine grunt of frustration bubbled over her lips before she simply yanked the fabric free.
He chuckled at her enthusiasm, but that sound became a hiss when her hands raked across his chest. Who could have foreseen such pleasure from such a simple touch? As he had explored her, so she returned the favor. She moved over his pecs with a purr of satisfaction. Any worries he might have
“Oh, Jack,” she breathed. “You did all of this?”
“Do you like it?” he asked softly.
“It’s perfect .”
Jack carried his new bride to the bed and set her down gently. He pulled the bottle of chilled champagne from the bucket on the bedside table and poured them each a glass. Slipping off his shoes, he joined her in bed and sat down beside her.
“To my beautiful wife,” he began, curling his arm with hers so they drank from each other’s glasses. “ Mo croie beloved . I will love you, always.”
“As I will love you, mo croie beloved ,” she answered.
“Want more?” Jack asked, taking her empty glass.
“Yes,” she answered, “but not champagne.”
He grinned wolfishly, answering the desire in her eyes with his own. “Let me get right on that.”
“Yes, please do.”
He laughed, setting the glasses off to the side. “Are you warm enough?” he asked, kissing the bare skin of her shoulders as he removed the jacket he’d lent her. His hands were shaking; not with fear, but with anticipation. It was an effort to move slowly when all he wanted to do was rip that thin strip of silk from her body and claim it the way he’d dreamed.
“Aye,” she whispered.
The flickering candlelight danced over her skin, so smooth and fragrant, unmarred and perfect. Her unique scent was firmly ingrained in his olfactory memory, synonymous with everything good in his world. He didn’t know what kind of body lotion or perfume she wore, but whatever it was, he was going to buy her cases of it.
Jack tugged at the delicate straps of her slip, dragging it down to reveal full breasts encased in yet more white satin. “Are you nervous?”
“No. Just anxious.”
He pressed kisses to her skin, tracing the outline of lace. With each one, her breasts heaved a bit more. She arched toward him, her nipples now clearly visible. It was more temptation than a man could take. He tugged that down, too, the breath escaping his lungs in a whoosh when the tips pebbled beneath his gaze.
His mouth closed around one even as his hands began to blindly work at the clasp. She gasped and thrust her fingers into his hair.
“Ah, Jack. You have the right of it,” she hummed, her natural brogue rising to the surface and coloring her words. It sent yet another bolt of lusty desire straight into his groin. He gently nipped and sucked in reward.
Her nails scraped against his scalp as his hands continued their mission to remove anything between them. With his mouth happily teasing her breasts, he mapped out the rest of her curves and dips, committing them to memory. His easy exploration should have ratcheted his desire to unbearable levels, but it didn’t. Secure in the knowledge that she was now his, he could take his time and savor her with the reverence she deserved.
Tingling fingers trailed down the outside of her thigh. As if pulled by a string, her knee lifted and rubbed against him. “You have far too many clothes on, Mr. Callaghan,” she observed.
Jack wasn’t ready to lay skin to skin with her just yet. His control, while on a tight leash, was manageable; but if his bare cock touched any of that soft, creamy flesh, it would snap completely.
“Please, Jack,” she begged. Her hands left his head and made quick work of his black tie, then moved down to his starched white shirt, opening the buttons with skill and dexterity until she reached his cummerbund. A brief feminine grunt of frustration bubbled over her lips before she simply yanked the fabric free.
He chuckled at her enthusiasm, but that sound became a hiss when her hands raked across his chest. Who could have foreseen such pleasure from such a simple touch? As he had explored her, so she returned the favor. She moved over his pecs with a purr of satisfaction. Any worries he might have
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