“Yeah, I know. If I’d known you couldn’t handle your liquor, I would have told them to take it easy on you.”
She snorts. “I can drink you under the table, Iceman.”
I press a kiss on her forehead and unwrap her arms from around my neck. “Yeah, sure.”
She blinks at me, her eyes brimming with sadness. “I’m really not that drunk.”
“Way too drunk for my liking, sweetheart.” I brush a lock of hair from her forehead.
“I’m not too wasted to know what I want. I can give my consent.”
I swallow hard. Holy Mother of God, give me strength. “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d prefer you remember our first time.”
She hums and bites down on that lip again. My cock twitches, trying to break through the zipper of my tuxedo pants. I need to get the fuck out of here.
“Can I at least kiss you?”
I close my eyes and stifle a groan. “Sure.”
She giggles. “There are three of you. Which one should I kiss?”
I sigh. “The middle one, Spitfire.”
She pushes herself up to her elbows and presses a soft kiss on my lips. Her taste is all Scotch and sweetness and sin, and I’m desperate to slide my tongue inside her mouth and kiss her properly. Aching to take what’s mine. But I pull back, leaving her gasping and me leaking precum into my boxers.
“Can you at least stay until I fall asleep?” she whispers, nestling into her pillow.
Fucking hell. I’m gonna need the patience of a goddamn saint tonight. With a groan, I fall into bed beside her and roll onto my back. Snuggling against me, she rests her head on my chest and murmurs, “Goodnight, husband.”
“Night, Mel.” I choke out the words while my cock throbs painfully in my pants. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and as easy as it would be to let myself doze off right beside her, I roll her off me. She mumbles a sleepy protest, but she doesn’t wake.
I crawl off the bed and stare at her for a few moments. Her chest rises and falls to a steady rhythm, and the contented smile on her face has me smiling back. I contemplate taking her dress off so she’ll be more comfortable, but I don’t trust myself to have my hands on her when I’m this hungry to fuck her.
That’s exactly why I can’t stay. If I do, I will definitely wake her in the night and convince her to let me bury myself inside her. And that contented look on her face right now, the one she never seems to have when she’s around her brother, lets me know that she trusts me. Whether she has reason to or not, she does. And to my surprise, that’s worth more to me than the brief, albeit sweet, relief—not to mention immense pleasure—that would come from sliding inside her.
With one more glance at her sleeping form, I switch off the light and head to my own room, resigned to spend the night tossing and turning to visions of her coming undone beneath me.
Chapter
Nineteen
MELANIE
Nathan is fastening his cufflinks when I walk into the kitchen.
I blink at him. “Are you working today? It’s Sunday.” And also the day after our wedding.
He nods. “I got a call from the police station. A new case.”
“So, you’re going to get him out?” I assume it’s a guy, anyway.
He winks at me. “Wouldn’t be a very good lawyer if I didn’t.”
I shift from one foot to the other, feeling incredibly awkward. Snapshots of last night flicker through my head. Me with my arms around his neck, asking him to … My cheeks flush with heat. “What did he do?”
“Something that got him arrested,” he says cryptically, before pulling on his suit jacket.
I rub my throbbing temples, and he shoots me a sympathetic look. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and Tylenol in the cupboard above it.”
“Thanks. I’m sorry I got so drunk.”
He huffs a laugh. “There’s no need to apologize. My brothers are pretty forceful with the Scotch.”
“Yeah.” The memory alone is enough to make my esophagus burn, and I rub at my raw throat. “What time will you be back?”
He shrugs. “Hard to say. Depends on what’s waiting for me when I get to the station.”
Regret punches me in the gut. Is this what my life is going to be like now? Me alone in this giant penthouse while he works? I guess I should have known that it would be. It’s not like we’re a real couple. He wouldn’t even have sex with me on our wedding night.
“Why don’t you hang out with your sister?” he suggests.
“Her flight was at eight. She has to get back to Boston this afternoon.”
He sucks on his top lip. “Hopefully, I won’t be too long and we can grab an early dinner.”
My enthusiastic nod comes embarrassingly fast, and I want to kick myself for being so eager.
But if he notices my enthusiasm, he doesn’t pass comment or react at all. With a single nod in my direction, he’s gone.
