rubbing together for friction, I came. Cupping the head, I worked my hand faster, jerking every last drop of pleasure from my body. Goose bumps spread across my skin, pulling it too tight as wave after wave hit me. With a few more slow swipes, I calmed, focusing on Vera. She laid back, breathing just as hard as me, a flush working its way down her neck.
Good.
“I’m going to clean up. Feel free to join me.”
A swirl of need and anger raged behind her caramel eyes, and I added fuel to the fire by smirking before disappearing into the bathroom. I imagined the anger was directed as much at her own stubborn pride as it was at me.
Not surprisingly, she didn’t join me in the shower. I wrapped the towel around my body and walked out to find her lounging in a small silk and lace nightgown.
“Did you wear that just for me?” I taunted.
She didn’t bother to look up from the magazine she flipped through. “Hardly. Raelynn packed it for me.”
“Did she pack all your lingerie?” I asked, both hopeful and worried at the same time. If she had a nightgown like the one currently riding up her thigh and doing nothing to hide the hard points underneath, then I was going to die a slow death over the next two weeks of our honeymoon.
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she taunted.
She never looked up directly, but I felt the way she tracked me around the edge of the bed. She wanted to torture me. Well, two could play that game.
Standing by the bed, watching for her reaction, I dropped the towel.
“What the hell?” she practically screeched.
Pleased that she couldn’t take her eyes off my cock as I climbed in bed beside her, I smirked. “I’m your husband now, so the kid-gloves are off, and I sleep in the nude. Feel free to join me.”
With effort, she dragged her eyes away and glared. “You wish.”
I sure fucking did.
Twenty-Five
Vera
Rolling over in the clouds of blankets and pillows, I squinted at the long rays of the sun reaching through the window across the cream carpet to wake me up. I stretched after a sleep just as luxurious at this bed until a glint from my left hand reminded me of the day before.
I married Nicholas Rush.
I was no longer Verana Mariano, but Verana Rush—Mrs. Rush.
Turning softly, I rolled to my side, facing Nico. His bronze skin stood stark against the white sheets that barely clung to his naked hips. I studied each dip and groove of his body. I’d seen him without his shirt a few times, but never had I allowed myself the luxury of memorizing each ridge and valley. One arm stretched behind his head, and the other rested on his stomach—his own wedding band impossible to miss.
Just like it had been hard to miss last night when he’d jacked off in front of me.
Heat spread through my body all over again like a fire to tinder. I closed my eyes, and like a movie on fast forward, images of him flashed behind my lids. The veins along his arms straining with the effort to stroke his thick length as he reached for his peak. His firm chest rising and falling with his panting breaths. His flushed cheeks and sweat-dampened hair. His full lips slicked by his tongue, teasing with the filthiest words. His broad head leaking pearly liquid until his palm came up to swipe it away. His heavy balls cradled in his hand, his brand-new wedding band shining—a bright reminder that this was my husband. That if I wanted him, he would, could be mine.
I almost gave in. I almost said fuck it and demanded he fuck me. Every second of watching him was like an hour in the most intense game imaginable. My body hot, tense, aching.
I knew I should have run. I should have shoved him away and slept in one of the other rooms.
But the way he looked at me as I laid back in my white, lacy wedding lingerie, filled me with an intense power. His heavy-lidded eyes took me in like he’d never seen anything like me. The way he’d stared in awe and couldn’t look away had me glued to the bed. Here stood a man who respected me enough to listen to my words—even though part of me wanted him to push, so I could give in and blame him in the morning—but still wanted me any way