Back to the 80s novel · Chapter 6 of 24

Chapter 6: Wedding Night

He didn't answer for a long moment.

Then he crossed the hall, shut his bedroom door behind us both, and turned the key.

"Say it again," he said.

"I didn't marry you for the guest room."

He took my face in both his hands and kissed me against the door.

There was nothing polite left in it.

His mouth opened mine, and his tongue slid in, and I grabbed his shirt in both fists to stay on my feet.

He backed me across the room without letting go, until the edge of the bed hit the back of my knees.

"There are forty buttons on this dress," he said against my throat.

"Then I'd start."

He turned me around.

I felt his fingers at my spine, not fumbling at all, working down the buttons one by one.

Every button he opened, he put his mouth on the skin it uncovered.

My neck.

The point between my shoulder blades.

The dip at the small of my back, where I shivered so hard he laughed under his breath against me.

By the time the dress dropped around my ankles, my legs had gone liquid.

I stood in a slip and the stockings Margaret had chosen, and his hands slid up my ribs and cupped my breasts through the satin.

"God, Lorna."

His thumbs found my nipples and rubbed.

I pushed back against the hard length of him through his trousers.

"Take your clothes off," I said.

He was already pulling his shirt over his head.

His chest was broad and covered in dark hair, scarred along one rib, and heavy with muscle from years of lifting freight.

I put my hand flat on it.

His heart was slamming.

I unbuckled his belt myself.

When I pushed his trousers down, his cock sprang free, thick and flushed and already wet at the tip.

I wrapped my hand around it.

He swore, low, and his hips jerked.

"You're going to ruin me," he said.

"That's the plan."

He picked me up, which I didn't expect, and laid me on the white-sheeted bed.

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