He continued with the same rhythm and tempo, as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Brian?”
No response.
“Brian!”
He started and drew back to look at her. “Sorry, I was lost in you. What did you say?”
“I need to find the nearest bed. My legs are tired.” So tired she was shaking.
He pulled out with a whimper, and then his eyes widened suddenly. “I forgot to carry you over the threshold.”
She cupped his jaw and kissed him. “I want you to do that when we buy our first house together. Our permanent house. Not a hotel room or a tour bus. Not my condo. Not your apartment. Our home. The one we’ll choose together and where we’ll raise our kids.”
His brilliant smile made her heart flutter. “I’m married,” he said, as if that realization just struck him.
She chuckled. “It’s about time.”
He scooped her up into his arms. “Well, wife, if you’re not going to let me carry you over the threshold, I’m going to carry you to bed.”
She wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed his shoulder. “No objections.”
He turned toward the living area of the suite. “This place is like a fucking mansion,” he said.
No lie. She’d never seen such a gorgeous hotel room in her life. “Let’s dirty it up.”
“Do you want to start in the bed?”
She scanned the expansive room, and her eyes settled on the black granite wet bar. “The bar.” He took a step in that direction. “Wait! Let me grab the champagne.”
He made a quick detour to the cart so she could grab the bottle, and then he hurried to the bar. She yelped when the backs of her thighs touched the cold granite, but forgot her discomfort when he settled between her legs and stared up at her. The light in the foyer gave limited illumination to the room, creating shadows that concealed his expression. His hesitation confused her. Didn’t he want her? She shook off her doubts. Of course he wanted her. He always did. How could she think otherwise?
“We need to drink a toast.” She shook the champagne vigorously, an ornery grin on her face. Before she could pop the cork, Brian took the bottle from her hands and set it on the bar beside her. The intensity of his gaze caused her heart to leap in anticipation. Amazing things always happened when he looked at her like that. She abandoned her plan to hose him down with champagne and waited for amazing.
His fingers moved to the buttons of her suit jacket. He never took his eyes off her face while he removed her jacket and the shell beneath. She helped him with her skirt, which knocked her shoes to the floor and left her sitting on the cool bar top in nothing but her thigh-high stockings. While he peeled the hosiery from her legs in agonizing slowness, she tugged impatiently at his T-shirt with one hand. He stripped his shirt off, and she wrapped her legs around his ribcage, tugging his body closer.
With a wicked grin on his handsome face, Brian took the bottle from the counter and smashed the neck against the bar. A golden geyser gushed from the bottle. Myrna squealed when the chilled liquid sprayed over her chest and throat before running like a river between her breasts. Brian lowered his head to sample the champagne coursing over her skin.
“To us,” he said, collecting the Dom Perignon from her heated flesh.
He shook out the entire contents and dropped the empty bottle on the carpet with a thud. His arms circled Myrna’s back to draw her breasts to his mouth.
“That was a three-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne,” she told him, her fingers burrowing into his hair.
The flat of his tongue collected the expensive liquid from her nipple. He offered the tender peak a sharp nip before sucking it into his mouth and gently flicking it with his tongue. Myrna gasped, and her body tensed before relaxing in his arms. His mouth moved down the center of her belly, seeking more champagne.
“Worth every penny,” he murmured, the deep timbre of his voice sending thrills down her lower back. “Delicious. They could charge a million a bottle if they served it this way.”
“I didn’t get any.” She captured his face between both hands, urged him upward, and kissed him, relishing the taste of their wedding toast on his strong lips.
When he pulled away to stare up into her eyes, he offered her a crooked grin that made her heart race.
“I’ll give you some.”
He lowered her to her back on the wet bar and then joined her. The smell of alcohol mingled with the musky scent of Brian’s body when he settled above her. He bit his lip as he used his hand to guide his cock inside her body. His gaze held hers as he moved his hands to link with hers. He searched her eyes, her face, for a long moment before he drew her arms above her head and began to thrust with agonizing slowness.
A trickle of wasted champagne splashed down on the lower counter of the bar, but Myrna didn’t need alcohol to be intoxicated when her sensual husband made love to her. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to sensation. The bliss of his thick cock filling her slowly, receding, filling her again. The hard, wet surface at her back. The strength of his fingers intertwined with hers. The warmth of his breath against her jaw. The crisp texture of the narrow strip of hair that ran down his lower abdomen rubbing against her belly when she arched her back.
And then beyond the physical feelings, but working in tune with them, those overwhelming emotions that left her breathless with wonder made a reappearance.
“Show me,” he whispered.
She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. “Show you what?”
“Your O-face.”