Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) (23 page)

“Our pleasure,” Koru said. “Look after her,
Dex.”

He nodded and walked over to where Honey
was giving her father a final hug. He waited until she’d moved back, then
smiled at Cam and held out a hand. “Thanks for all your hard work today.”

“My pleasure, son.” Cam ignored his hand
and engulfed him in a manly bear hug. “Sleep well.” His lips twisted as they
pulled back.

Dex laughed, turned and picked Honey up in
his arms. She squealed and threw her arms around his neck. To cheers and whistles,
he carried her out of the room and down the hall to the elevator, and they
waved their final goodbyes.

In the elevator, he released her legs so
she slid down against him, swiped his key card and pressed the floor for their
suite. Then he turned to her and took her in his arms.

“Hello, husband,” she murmured.

“Hello, wife.” He brushed her lips with his
own. Hers were soft and he couldn’t resist running his tongue over her bottom
lip, pleased with her answering shiver. “I can’t believe it’s actually our
wedding night,” he murmured, kissing around her jaw to her ear.

“I know, me neither. It’s taken forever to
get here. Now I never want it to stop.”

He began to kiss her again, but the
elevator came to a halt, so he picked her up and carried her along the corridor
to their suite. She took the card from him and swiped it, pressed the handle
and he carried her inside.

Dex had already been up to the suite
earlier to bring his suitcase but again he was stunned by the magnificent view
of the Pacific through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sea black and silver
in the light of the full moon that hung above the horizon. Someone had turned
on the lamps on either side of the huge bed, casting the room in a warm,
welcoming glow. The white covers had been scattered with red rose petals, and
the room smelled of roses and the bowl of strawberries placed on the table to
the side, with a bottle of champagne cooling on a bucket of ice.

He lowered Honey’s feet to the floor, and
she danced away from him, twirling around the room like a princess out of a
Disney film. Smiling, he popped the cork on the bottle of champagne. He wasn’t
thirsty, but he thought she might like a glass.

Honey sang to herself as she danced, and he
turned and sipped the champagne as he watched her, thinking how beautiful she
was, almost ethereal. He was desperate to bed her, hard enough to hammer nails
into the wall, his blood thundering through his veins, but a small part of him
wanted that moment to go on forever, like Christmas Eve, full of promise,
nearly always better than the actual day.

And maybe that was what worried him the
most. That they would make love, and then it would be over, and it would be a
huge anti-climax. His lips twisted at the pun
.
Of course it would be
wonderful having her forever, sleeping beside her every night, sharing his life
with her. But that moment of anticipation would be gone. And what if it didn’t
live up to his dreams? She’d told him that Mc-Fucking-Idiot had called her
frigid and boring, and she’d admitted she herself was worried about it. He’d
brushed away her concerns, but they returned to niggle at him, and he knocked
back the rest of the champagne, cross with himself for spoiling the moment.

He slipped off his jacket and hung it over
the chair.
Keep calm,
he told himself. Nothing would be served by
winding himself up into a state at this late hour.

Honey had stopped singing, so he turned to
see her staring at him, eyes wide.

“What?” he asked.

“You.” She walked up to him and fingered
his waistcoat. “Look at you.”

“I’ve had my jacket off most of the
evening.”

“Yes, but now I have you alone…” She
slipped her arms around him. “You are one gorgeous man, Dexter Mark Concannon.”

“Why thank you, wife.”

She giggled and pressed her lips to his. “I
love you.”

“I love you too.” He kissed her, long and
leisurely, enjoying the sweet taste of wine and chocolate on her lips.

Just as he was getting into it, however,
she pulled back. “Um, Dex?”

He lifted his head. “Yes?”

“Um… This is a beautiful dress I’m wearing,
don’t you think?”

He smiled and stepped back to admire it.
“Definitely. Very you.”

“As it’s my wedding day, and I’ll never get
to wear it again, I thought I might keep it on a while longer.” She looked up
with hopeful eyes.

He met her gaze. Disappointment flooded
him, but he forced a smile on his face. She was obviously nervous, like he was.
She wanted to wait, to make the moment last a little longer. “Of course. Got to
make the most of it.” He turned away to hide his frustration. “Want a glass of
champagne?”

She caught his arm and turned him gently
back.

“I said I wanted to keep the dress on,” she
whispered. She reached up on tiptoes and let her lips brush his. “Not wait.”

Honey waited for the realisation to
register in Dex’s eyes. He blinked, and then very slowly his lips started to
curve.

“If you think I want to wait to get my
hands on you, you’re stark raving.” She took his hand and began to walk
backward, over to the window that looked down on the hotel grounds and over to
the sea. “I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I can’t wait a moment
longer.”

She spoke the truth—throughout the
wonderful day, as she’d danced and laughed with her friends and family, her
gaze had repeatedly crept back to Dex, often to find him watching her too, as
if they were two magnets drawn to each other across the room. He’d looked
gorgeous in his suit, but it was once he took off his jacket that she’d finally
melted. She had a thing for waistcoats, and the sight of his white shirt
sleeves with the elegant silver cufflinks and the smart silvery waistcoat and
tie had nearly been her undoing.

Her back met the window, and she pulled him
close, wanting the feel of his muscular, hard body against her. She took his
hand and, lifting her voluminous skirts, placed it on her thigh. “This is going
to take a bit of manoeuvring,” she teased as the lace tumbled over his arm,
“but I’ve been dreaming about it for months.”

He inhaled as his hand rested on her
stocking tops, and then he slid it slowly up, over her hip, around to her butt.

And stopped. His eyes widened.

Honey giggled at the look on his face.

He gave her a reproving look. “How long
have you been going commando, Mrs. Concannon? Please don’t tell me it’s been all
day?”

“No, just the last half hour or so.”

“Jesus,” he mumbled, lowering his head to
kiss her. “If I’d known that, I’d have got you up here in double quick time.”

She laughed, then sighed as he stroked down
her thigh, and up over her hip and bottom again, obviously enjoying the feel of
her bare skin. The touch of his hand on her made every single hair on her body
stand on end, and her nipples tightened behind the beaded bodice, her mouth
opening under his. He kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding sensuously against
hers, and she raised her arms around his neck, sinking her fingers into his
hair, scoring her nails lightly across his scalp.

She couldn’t believe the time had finally
come. All that waiting, worrying, wanting… And he was here, in her arms, hers
to enjoy for the night, for the rest of her life.

“I want you,” she murmured, nibbling his
bottom lip. She took his hand where it was still sliding up the outside of her
thigh and moved it around, between her legs. “I can’t wait much longer.”

He stroked her and groaned deeply,
obviously realising she wasn’t lying. “We’ve got to slow down,” he said
hoarsely. “Why don’t we lie on the bed for a while and—”

“Plenty of time for that later.” She began
to fumble at his belt.

“Honey! Jeez.” He tried to stop her.

“Please, Dex.” She pushed his hands away, finished
undoing the belt and unpopped the button.

“I wanted to take it slow,” he said
desperately. “The first time. Make it last, make it good.”

“It’ll be good whatever,” she said, “and
next time we’ll take it slowly, I promise. But I’ve got to have you now or I’m
going to explode.” And that’s how it felt—her heart pounded, and every nerve
ending was on fire for him.

She undid the zipper, pushed down his
boxers and released him. He swelled in her hand, clearly as eager as she was.

“Lift me up,” she whispered.

“To the bed?”

“Here.” She raised her skirts and, as he
obediently picked her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He pushed her back against the huge window
and let his lips hover over hers. “Are you sure?

“God, yes, Dex…please.”

She felt the tip of him part her, and then
he slid into her. Her head fell back on the glass, and she bit her lip at the
exquisite sensation of having him inside her at last.

He kissed her neck, her jaw, up to her
lips. “Okay?” he murmured.

She opened her eyes. The moonlight fell
across his face and turned the tips of his hair silver. He was like a movie
star, so handsome it made her catch her breath, and he was hers. Her husband.
He’d chosen her out of all the women in the world. It made her want to cry.

But she just whispered back, “Okay,” and so
he began to move inside her, long, slow, delicious thrusts that soon had her
sighing and begging for more. She slipped her hands into his hair and pulled
his mouth to hers, and he groaned and thrust harder, faster.

Her senses spun. The warm room made the
spicy smell of his aftershave rise from his skin, and he tasted of whiskey. His
innate masculinity overwhelmed her, flooded her with a dark urge to possess
him, to please him, to succumb to his fierce desire.

She moaned as he continued to kiss her deeply,
filled with the knowledge that this intensely passionate man knew exactly how
to tease pleasure from her, to guide her toward the outcome her whole body
ached for and had yearned for since she first met him. At that moment, she
realised she was completely his, and with that came the final abandonment.
She’d promised herself to love him forever, and now she gave herself over to
him, body and soul.

In what seemed no time at all, her internal
muscles tightened and clenched around him, and she cried out as the blissful
sensations overtook her. He crushed his lips to hers, fierce and possessive,
before finally giving in and letting his own climax sweep over him. His body
tightened beneath her hands, and she opened her eyes and watched him, loving
every moment of his pleasure, loving that she was the cause of it.

Finally, his body relaxed and he opened his
eyes to give her an amused, remonstrative look.

“Bad wife,” he said, lifting her off the
glass.

“You didn’t enjoy it?”

Another wry look. His trousers now around
his ankles, he shuffled across to the bed and lowered her down before gently
withdrawing, then bending to pull his trousers back up, tucking himself in.
Honey lay back amongst the rose petals, sighing, her muscles still trembling.
“That was nice.”

“And that was the understatement of the
year.” He walked over to the table and came back carrying the tray with the
strawberries and two glasses of champagne. Placing it on the bed between them,
he climbed on beside her and stretched out. “It was fucking amazing.”

“Dex!”

“Well it was. Tell me it wasn’t, then.”

She smiled lazily and turned on her side. Propping
her head on a hand as he had done, she let him feed her a strawberry. “Touché.”
She nibbled the end of the strawberry, and he brought the other half back to
his mouth and ate the rest, smiling at her. She felt warm right the way
through. This was how it would be from now on. Sharing everything. She wouldn’t
be alone anymore.

She started talking about the day, and they
lay there for a while, sipping champagne and eating strawberries, discussing
their favourite parts of the wedding, whether the guests had enjoyed themselves
and how nice the food had been. She didn’t mention Cathryn and neither did he.
There wasn’t much to say anyway. Hopefully that was all done and dusted now.

After a while, the room grew warm and Honey
grew tired.

“I think it’s finally time,” she said.
“Help me out of the dress?”

She stood, and Dex came to stand behind her
and undid the row of tiny pearl buttons at the back of the bodice. Slowly,
reluctant to take off the dress she’d never be able to wear again, she let it
slip to the floor and stepped out of it. Then she lifted it and placed it over
the chair, giving the skirts one final smooth before turning to face him again.

A giggle stole from her lips at the look on
his face. “You like?” she said coyly, giving him a twirl. She wore a strapless
lacy bra, garters and stockings.

His eyes met hers, desire flaring in them.
“I do.”

She walked up to him and began to undo his
waistcoat. “Your turn now.”