But fuck…finding out that she was disappointed in their own ceremony would cut even deeper.
“What’s wrong?” He eased down the zipper and bent to nuzzle the nape of her neck. She smelled so fucking good. Like cocoa butter and sunshine. Hell, she smelled better than all the floral arrangements placed discreetly around Ambassador Canfield’s estate.
“Nothing. Not really. I just forgot how much I enjoy spending time with Langley. I wish they lived closer.” She sighed, a shiver shaking her slender frame as his mouth found the fragrant patch of skin below her ear.
Okay then…he relaxed. Her wistfulness wasn’t about their wedding. That was a big relief. So was the fact she seemed as anxious to get out of their wedding attire as he was.
“Can you unclasp the necklace for me too?” Her voice was breathier than it had been a few seconds ago.
“Leave it on.” He eased the dress down her bare shoulders, letting it pool on the carpet around her sandal-clad feet. “I want to watch it sparkle as you come.” He wrapped his arms around her and slid his fingers beneath her bra to palm her breasts, rubbing the nubs of her nipples with his thumbs.
“I can’t believe—”
She broke off, her voice cracking as he sucked harder on the delicate flesh below her ear, reddening the skin, marking her as his. He’d never been desperate to claim a woman before her. Never expected to go all Neanderthal like this. But his possessiveness refused to be denied.
“—that you bought—” This time, after her voice cracked, she fell into rapt silence.
It took him a second to realize she was referring to the earrings and necklace set. Although he’d never told her how much the set cost, she seemed to know. And it alternatively horrified and delighted her.
But hell, it wasn’t like they had a house payment, or car payments, or any debt at all. They could afford the odd extravagance every now and then and still have plenty of savings left over to cover the cost of the new addition to her—their—home.
Now that he had the plans and permits for the add-on, he could move onto the actual construction. They were going to need more room to house the four kids she claimed to want. His breathing turned raspy at the thought of her carrying his baby, her belly rounded and taut, her breasts full and sensitive. He’d never thought of kids before Sarah—but yeah, he wouldn’t mind a couple. A little girl with red hair and hazel eyes. Or a son. Hell, he wasn’t sexist.
As often as they were going at it, without protection, he’d best jump on those renovations while he had the chance—before she squeezed out the first rugrat. Besides, the construction would give him something to focus on during his transition from the military to the private sector.
Although that particular evolution was looking pretty damn slick thanks to the private security firms courting him. Turns out he had skills—skills that were in hot demand in their current, fucked up world. Hell, maybe he’d grab the offer from the guys Tram had gone with. The money was good…. three times what the good ol’ U.S. of A. offered, and Tram seemed happy with them. Plus the firm and the dudes who’d founded it had stellar reputations.
In the covert ops business, reputation was everything.
When Sarah grabbed his biceps for balance as she stepped out of the purple fabric pooled around her feet, Tag let go of her breasts in the interest of getting naked—fast. He nudged off his shiny-as-shit gray dress shoes, unbuttoned the silk shirt his wife had insisted on buying for him, and unbuttoned and shucked the linen slacks.
Linen, for fuck’s sake.
And blue, because she’d insisted they matched the color of his eyes. He’d refused to wear them—yet somehow, here he was, wearing them.
Pussy whipped—that’s what Tram would call it. But the worst thing? Yeah, the damn things were actually comfortable. Like real…fucking comfortable. With deep enough pockets to hide a secondary weapon or a switchblade.
Not that he’d be telling her that.
Hell, after letting her dress him up like some fucking life-sized Ken doll, he had some leverage. Maybe even enough to get her on her elbows and knees, that tight ass of hers clenching each time he pushed into her.
Of course, if he took her from behind, he’d miss out on the shimmer of that necklace and the way her eyes seemed to lighten and glow, matching the pendant’s sparkle.
Decisions, decisions.
In the end, the urge