Reaching the Edge by Jennifer Comeaux

 
    The limousine pulled up to our Cape Cod
townhouse, and Sergei kissed the back of my hand. He raised his
deep blue eyes to mine.
    “Finally home,” he said, his breath warming
my skin.
    I smiled and waited as he hopped out of the
car and walked around to open my door. The ride from our wedding
reception in Boston had been long, but it was nice to have time to
unwind after the whirlwind day. Not that my mind had been able to
fully relax, thinking about the momentous night ahead of us. I
remembered my best friend Aubrey’s words when she’d hugged me
goodbye at the reception – “Have the time of your life, Em.”
    Smoothing the front of my white strapless
“going away” dress, I thanked the driver and stepped out into the
cool summer night. Sergei wrapped his hand around mine, and the
gesture felt different, just as all the looks and touches we’d
shared during the ride had. There was an added electricity between
us, a new level of tension that made my body buzz with
anticipation.
    Sergei and I walked up to the porch, and he
unlocked the door of the townhouse and motioned inside. “After
you.”
    I stared at him, wondering if he’d forgotten
the tradition of the groom carrying the bride over the threshold. Maybe it’s not done in Russia? I didn’t want to make a big
fuss about it, so I started toward the doorway.
    Sergei laughed and grabbed my waist. “You
thought I forgot.”
    He swept me up into his strong arms, and I
giggled as he took a slow, dramatic step into the foyer. After
kicking the door shut behind us, he leaned his head down, and we
kept smiling as our lips met with sublime sweetness. Our first kiss
as husband and wife in our home.
    Sergei set me down, his eyes not leaving
mine, and the bit of nervousness I’d felt all evening fluttered
stronger in my stomach. I slid my hands down the lapels of Sergei’s
gray suit jacket. We’d waited so long for this night, and I wanted
it to be all that we’d expected. Two and a half years of waiting…
and we didn’t have to hold back any longer. That was both
incredibly thrilling and slightly scary.
    “So…” I tapped my fingers against Sergei’s
jacket. “I think I’ll get changed.”
    “Do you need help with any zippers or
anything?” He grinned and peeked around the back of my dress.
    I laughed. “I think I can handle it.” I
tugged on his sea foam green tie and whispered in his ear, “Your
turn is coming very, very soon.”
    He hummed softly and kissed my shoulder.
“I’ll get the wine and meet you on the terrace.”
    I scooted up the stairs to my bedroom – our bedroom, the butterflies in my stomach reminded me – and
from the dresser I pulled out the short and silky ivory nightgown
and matching robe I’d bought for the occasion. The gown was simple
with no lace or frills. Two skinny straps and a deep neckline made
it my perfect kind of slinky and sexy. And I didn’t think Sergei
would have any complaints. After all the waiting, I could probably
wear flannel pajamas and he’d be turned on.
    I brought the lingerie into the bathroom and
undressed. My long, loose curls fell around my face as I removed
the pearl barrette from my hair. While I slipped into the nightgown
and touched up my lip gloss, the faint sound of classical music
came through the door. I smiled at my reflection in the mirror, my
blue eyes shining. Sergei knew exactly how I’d pictured the setting
for our first night together.
    I stared into the mirror, combing my fingers
through my hair and skimming them down my nightgown. Leaning in
close to the glass, I studied my reflection. From a young age I’d
worn make-up and skating costumes that made me look older, but I’d
never felt more grown-up than I did at this moment. And it wasn’t
just because of the silky gown that dipped low over my bust and
clung to my petite curves. It was knowing that my husband was on
the terrace waiting for me. A tiny shiver rolled through me. My
husband.
    What if I disappointed him? What