Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) (24 page)

They undressed each other leisurely,
removing the garments piece by piece until they stood naked in front of each
other. She unpinned her hair and let it fall, and he separated the blonde curls
across her shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his
hands skating over her skin.

She shivered, her nipples peaking, and
turned and lifted the tray onto the bedside table before drawing back the
covers. “Let’s get in bed.”

She’d dreamed about the first time they
would make love, about seeing him naked, but this was her greatest fantasy—sliding
onto the soft mattress, pulling the covers over them and pressing herself up
against his young, warm, strong body.

“This is just heaven,” she whispered as she
ran her hand down his chest and traced the defined muscles there and in his
shoulders and arms. “I think I’m dreaming.”

“I don’t think we can have the same dream.”
He brushed his hand down her back, over her hips, along her thighs. “I wish
this night would last forever.”

“Me too.” She slipped her hand into his
hair and kissed him. He kissed her back, gentle and soft.

After a while, she pulled away. She cupped
his face, brushing his cheek with her thumb. Was something bothering him? She
felt as if he was holding back somehow. She’d felt it from the moment they came
into the room. He’d given in a little when they first made love, but now it had
returned—a reservation, as if he was worried about moving too fast, or doing
something she didn’t like.

My husband
,
she thought. How could she convince him she wanted him more than anything in
the world?

Once again, doubt flitted through Dex’s mind.
Honey looked tired. Was she just doing this for him? Because he hadn’t
mentioned going to sleep? He was terrified of asking her to do something she
didn’t want to do. He’d hate her to say yes just to please him. And he hated
himself for being worried about it, but he didn’t know how to get over this
hurdle.

She stroked his cheek. “What’s the matter?”

He shook his head. “You look tired. Do you
want to just go to sleep? We’ve got the rest of our lives to explore each
other.”

She studied him and pursed her lips.
“Dexter Concannon, you finally get me into bed and all you want to do is
sleep?”

He opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t
think what to say to that.

Her eyes twinkled. “If I don’t have you at
least twice more before we doze off, I’ll be very disappointed.”

He smiled, but still couldn’t shake the
fear that Cathryn had lodged at the back of his mind. Fury filled him. She was
spoiling the moment without even being there. What kind of power did she have
over him?

Honey brushed her thumb across his lips.
“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” he said, helplessness and
despair washing over him.

“Did you think I got upset over the things
Cathryn said because she scared me?”

Puzzled at the question, he thought about
it. “Maybe,” he concluded. “I wouldn’t want you to think that we had to do all
those—”

She pressed her thumb to his lips, halting
his words. “I wasn’t scared,” she said softly. “I was jealous. Overwhelmingly,
passionately jealous. Enraged. Infuriated.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

She moved a little closer to him and hooked
her leg over his hips. “You see,” she continued huskily, “I’m absolutely crazy
about you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. But I don’t just want a
little piece of you—I want a hundred percent. I want everything.”

He had no more love and affection left to
give but, wanting to please her, he said, “Okay.”

She brushed her lips against his. “I need
you to know—everything that you’ve ever done with another woman, to another
woman, I want you to do to me.”

Her words made him inhale in shock. He
lifted his head to stare at her.

“And I’m not just saying that,” she
murmured. “Ian and I—we were black and white compared to the Technicolor I know
you and I could have together. I want passion, Dex. Desire. I don’t know how to
describe it because I’ve never had it before, but that’s where you come in. I
want you to show me everything. I want you as many times as we can manage it,
in every position, everywhere in the house, every which way you like. I want to
fill your mind with memories of me, and only me. I want us to have good, loving
sex, and bad, wicked sex.” Her eyes glittered in the moonlight. “A hundred
percent, Dex, no holding back. Do you understand?”

Their eyes met and held for a long, long
moment.

Then he slid his hand down to her butt,
lifted her to change position, and pressed himself slowly into her. She closed
her eyes and groaned as he filled her up.

“That’s a very dangerous comment
considering you have no idea how wicked I am,” he murmured, kissing her cheek,
her eyelids, and finally down to her mouth as he began to move inside her.

“I think I can guess some of the things
you’d enjoy,” she whispered back, moving with him.

“Oh?” Hunger flooded him for this sensual,
beautiful woman, but he kept a tight rein on it for the moment, nuzzling her
ear and kissing around her jaw to her mouth. “Like what?”

She moistened her lips with the tip of her
tongue. “Like tying me up.” She opened her eyes to look at him.

He held her tightly against him, turned her
onto her back and moved on top of her. “But then you’d be at my mercy,” he
murmured, pushing deeply into her.

“Oh God, yes.” She arched against him.

He took her hands in his and pinned them above
her head. “You like the sound of that?”

“Mm.” She moved her hips, encouraging him
to thrust harder.

He kissed her, deliberately slowing his
pace. “But then I could do anything I wanted to you, and you’d be powerless to
stop me.”

“Ooh, you know how to turn me on.”

He chuckled and dropped his head to her
breast briefly to brush his tongue over her nipple. “What else is going on in
your naughty little mind?”

She squirmed beneath him. “I don’t know.
Maybe I could…um…” She whispered a suggestion in his ear.

He lifted his head and stared at her.
“Honey!”

She giggled. “What?”

He started laughing. “You little minx. I
never knew you had it in you.”

She kissed him. “So now you know, what are
you going to do about it?”

He pushed deeper into her, love and desire
filling him. “I’m going to make love to you until we’re both exhausted and
can’t keep our eyes open. And then I want to cover your body with kisses, to
get to know every inch of your soft skin.” He kissed her. “I want to make you
come with my mouth, to taste your sweetness. And then I’ll make love to you
again, until you’re dreaming about me, until you can’t think of anything or
anyone else.”

“Oh yes. Yes, please.”

“I love you, Honeysuckle Summers.”

“I love you too.”

And he did as he’d promised, taking her to
the dizzy heights of ecstasy before starting all over again, loving her until
the moon sank in the sky and the rays of the early morning sun flooded the room
with light.

Daisy stood in the semi-darkness of the
corner of the room, finishing off her glass of champagne. The wedding was
wrapping up, the DJ playing his last few songs, the caterers starting to clear
away the wine glasses and beer bottles left on the tables.

It had been a lovely day. Partly marred by
the appearance of Dex’s old girlfriend, but that had been expected and as such
hadn’t been a huge shock. He’d dealt with it swiftly, to be fair to him, and
the rest of the day had passed without a hitch.

He was obviously crazy about Honey, she
thought, not without some envy. She’d caught him looking at his new wife
several times throughout the evening, longing and desire in his eyes as they
followed her around the room, and if she talked to another guy—even if it was
just a friend—he would frown with the kind of possessive jealousy that gave a
girl goose bumps.

No doubt Honey was getting screwed
senseless right now. Again, envy threaded through her. Not because of Dex—she
liked him, liked the way he seemed devoted to Honey, but he wasn’t her kind of
guy. Dex didn’t give a toss about his appearance, couldn’t care less whether
the T-shirt he wore had a designer label in it, had had to be bullied into
using product for his hair, and although he wasn’t an idiot, he was interested
in rugby, fishing, watching movies and being with his girlfriend, with no
desire to better himself, to climb the social or educational ladder.

Reuben, on the other hand, fitted all of
those requirements, which was why she’d chosen him, of course. He always
dressed as if going to an important business meeting, even at the weekend, more
comfortable in shirts and ties than T-shirts, and she didn’t think he’d ever
worn a pair of flip-flops in his life. His hair was always impeccable, his face
clean-shaven, his nails neatly manicured, and he worked out at the gym so his
body was beautifully sculpted. He was an investment banker so he knew a thing
or two about figures, and he liked art and classical music. He was filthy rich
and happy to share it, and he seemed into her. He was perfect.

So why didn’t she feel the spark whenever
he was around?

She sipped her champagne listlessly. He’d
come to the wedding because he knew it was important to her, but she knew he
hadn’t enjoyed himself. He’d been impressed with the food and the location
where Honey and Dex took their vows, but otherwise he’d thought it a small,
rustic affair. Only a hundred guests? There’d be a thousand at their wedding,
he’d assured Daisy.

Not that he’d asked her to marry him. But
she thought he probably would. They’d been dating for a while now, most of that
time spent in Auckland. He’d made no effort to get to know her friends and
family, nor would he. They held no interest for him, and he thought their
conversation dull and parochial, their lives meaningless because they weren’t
constantly trying to better themselves.

He hadn’t exactly voiced the opinion, but
she thought he might despise her father, who’d spent all the money from the
sale of their property in England on an old, rambling house on the outskirts of
Kerikeri with no intention of doing it up or making money from it. And the
café—although probably the most successful small eating place in Kerikeri and
flourishing so much he’d had to hire extra staff—was hardly a top class
restaurant. She’d seen the way Reuben turned up his nose when they first walked
in, unimpressed by the yellow-and-white-check tablecloths, the wooden
furniture, the lack of chrome and mirrors, and the haphazard menu, which
basically consisted of whatever the girls and Cam felt like making on the day.
He’d acknowledged the coffee was pretty good though.

He’d sat through the wedding meal and the
speeches, sighing and occasionally checking his BlackBerry, laughed at the
band—who were friends of Koru’s playing well known rock songs rather than an
upmarket jazz band—groaned at the DJ’s choice of music, and generally irritated
her until she’d snapped and told him if he wasn’t enjoying himself, perhaps he
should just go to bed and amuse himself in their room.

So he had. He’d just walked off and left
her, choosing cable TV and the mini bar over her company, and she’d sat and
fumed for the past hour, unable to believe she had nobody to dance with,
envious of Honey’s obvious happiness and near to tears because it felt like
everything was going wrong and she didn’t know how to put it right.

She closed her eyes. She should go up to
bed and join him, but she didn’t want to. He’d either turn over and give her
the cold shoulder, or he’d act like nothing had happened and make love to her,
and she’d have to comply or risk upsetting him further. And that was the last
thing she wanted, because he had the ability to sulk for weeks like a spoiled
four year old if he didn’t get his own way.

A pressure on her arm made her open her
eyes and look up. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she saw it was Chase
standing next to her. He didn’t look at her, watching instead the couples
turning slowly to the music, but every cell in her body reacted to him, the
hairs rising on the back of her neck, a shiver running up her spine, her
nipples tightening beneath the silky plum-coloured dress.

She’d been conscious of him watching her
all evening. Part of her had wondered if he’d come over when Reuben
disappeared, but he’d kept his distance, and she’d been annoyed that she’d been
annoyed by it. Not that she could blame him. She’d made it perfectly clear—on
numerous occasions—that they were over and she’d never go out with him again in
a million years. Usually, he ignored that directive and pestered her
repeatedly, but for once that evening he’d steered clear, and she had to admit
she’d missed the attention. He wasn’t the perfect boyfriend—far from it, and
he’d driven her nuts while they were together. But he would never have left her
alone at a party.