Beautiful Beginning

He didn’t cave and bang the daylights out of me last night. In fact, he’d gone so far as to drug himself and be taken out of commission. Clearly it was time to up my game.

I’d spent much of dinner last night watching Bennett be adorably mischievous while steering my rascal aunts toward an unsuspecting Will. I’d watched him be jealous and irritated in equal measure when Bull regaled me with stories of the many cars he’d sold and women he’d banged. I’d watched Bennett with adoration as he greeted his family, waited until his mother’s food was in front of her before starting in on his own, thanked each waiter personally, and stood when I stood to go to the bathroom.

Bennett Ryan was a swoony fucking bastard, and tonight—stupid chastity rule or not—I was going to ride him like a horse.

I had a suitcase full of lingerie and outfits that were guaranteed to bring him to his knees. Most of the skimpy, lacy things had been reserved for the honeymoon, but I suspected at this point we wouldn’t have much need for any form of clothing once we hit the private resort in Fiji.

In a way it was nice to have a new mission. Instead of stressing about our families and the chaos we were diving into headlong, I could focus on the fact that Bennett really just needed to fuck me a few times a day. It was a simple goal, really. I couldn’t control the tides or the insanity of our families, but I could definitely control this man’s cock.

Will had named this evening the Final Night of Freedom. Even though it was Thursday and the wedding was Saturday, he declared that the rehearsal on Friday all but sealed Bennett’s fate as a married man, so he and Max had planned a night out for all of us in the Gaslamp Quarter. We were going to hit a few bars, have a few drinks. As Max put it, “Tonight we’re going to get right pissed and pretend Chloe didn’t hand each of us a to-do list five miles long.”

I’d ordered the guys to get ready in our suite and the women—Sara, Hanna, my childhood friend Julia, soon-to-be sister-in-law Mina, and I—were getting ready in Julia’s room. I did this in part to have some girl-time before we all went out together, but also so that Bennett wouldn’t see me until we got to the bar. If he saw what I was going to wear out tonight, he would tie me to the bed with one of my slips and change my clothes for me.

If I’d harbored any suspicion that he would tie me to the bed and fuck me, I’d be happily changing upstairs in the wedding suite alongside him. Alas. I knew Bennett, and I knew how determined he was once he made a decision about something. Tonight needed to be a sneak attack. I had to seduce my fiancé, and in order to do that, I had to play dirty.

Julia and Mina were both working on Hanna’s broken zipper, and I sat on Julia’s bed and carefully crisscrossed the long, strappy heels up my calf. Last night’s shoes had worked pretty well, but obviously not well enough. Tonight I’d put on a tiny black dress, dangly chandelier earrings, and the same shoes I’d worn the night I went out clubbing in San Diego when Bennett and I had been here together for the JT Miller Marketing Conference early in our “relationship”.

I tied the satin strap at the back of my calf and thought back to that night, and how Bennett had looked, almost two years ago now, when I’d walked into the hotel lobby of the W in the early hours of the morning to find him sitting on a couch, waiting for me.

His hair had been a disaster, and I knew without having to ask that he’d been pulling at it, nervously running his hands through it. In hindsight it was obvious we were in love even then, but I remembered how surprised I’d been when he admitted he needed another night with me. I wanted it more than anything, but I never expected him to ask for it so openly.

I’d followed him up to my room and in that bed we’d made love for hours, sharing words about real histories and real desires and real feelings. From there, our relationship climbed to a peak—I’d easily stepped up and covered with Bennett’s client when Bennett suddenly got sick, and when he recovered, we’d decided to be together, a couple, no more hiding.

“Chlo?” Sara asked, ducking to meet my eyes and pulling me out of my thoughts. “You okay?”

I bent and focused on the other shoe, nodding. “Yeah, just remembering what it was like when the BB and I were first together.”

She sat and put an arm around me. “Is it weird to be getting married here?”

Shrugging, I admitted, “A little. It’s bittersweet, you know?”

“When did you first know you loved him?”

I closed my eyes and leaned into her, humming as I considered the question. “I think I probably felt love for him before I knew I loved him. But, do you remember when we were here for the conference and he got food poisoning?”

Beside me, Sara nodded.

“Well, after I did the whole Gugliotti presentation and came back to tell Bennett how it went, I went back down to the conference for a little bit to walk around and let him rest. When I came back up to my room, Bennett was sitting on the couch. He always looks good, of course,” I said, laughing when Julia wiggled her eyebrows at me, “but he just looked like a guy right then. He was shirtless and his hair was messy in that bed-head, unintentional way. He was zoned out on the television with his hand tucked under the waistband of his boxers. And I had this epiphany that he was just a guy, and that he was sort of becoming my guy, you know?” Around me, my girlfriends all nodded. “I think those are the moments I love the most, when I look at him and see him as so much more than the Beautiful Bastard. In his BB moments he still feels sort of unattainable and intimidating even to me. Don’t get me wrong, I love that side of him. But when we’re alone he lets his guard down and I get to see all sides of him, and that day was the first time it really happened. I think that’s when I knew I loved him.”

“I think it was earlier,” Mina said, bending to dig into the hotel room minibar. “I saw your face when I busted you in the bathroom at his parents’ house. He said being with you was a mistake. Your expression was the reaction of a woman with emotions.”

I crinkled my nose, considering this. “God, but he was such an asshole then.”

“He’s still an asshole,” Mina reminded me. “And I’m pretty sure if he wasn’t, you’d find a way to push the buttons to get him back there.”

“I like watching you guys,” Hanna said. “I’ve never seen a couple like you before. Seriously, I bet the sex is unreal.”

Hanna had been around us so much in the past few months, this blunt-force honesty surprised no one . . . except Mina.

“Don’t need to hear it.” Mina covered her ears. “Again,” she added, glaring at me.

Hanna looked gorgeous tonight, in a silky gray A-line dress that hit just above her knees. Julia had put Hanna’s sandy brown hair up into a complicated twist, and her neck was long and smooth, decorated simply with a tiny diamond pendant that rested just at the hollow of her throat. I couldn’t wait to see Will try to maintain his trademark poker face when he saw her.

“You have to let me order all the drinks tonight,” Sara said, standing and smoothing her shimmering blue dress over her round belly. “I swear to God, I want nothing more than to walk up to the bar tonight and order ten shots, just to see what the bartenders say.”

“Pregnancy suits you, Sare,” Julia noted, standing and walking across the room to fetch her heels. She sat on the edge of the bed and slipped them on her feet, still staring at Sara. “I like the tummy and the attitude.”

“I agree,” I said. “She’s turning into a bit of a hellcat.”

Sara laughed and studied her reflection in the mirror for a beat before walking over to have me fasten her necklace. “I just really love my body like this. Is that weird? I like how curvy I am.”

“Etienne certainty didn’t,” Julia said with a snort. “I still can’t believe what a fit he threw about having to alter the design of Sara’s dress.”

I groaned. The Dress. Julia had found the most perfect bridesmaids’ dresses I’d ever laid eyes on. They were a swirl of beautiful blues—dyed to slowly transition between the Tiffany blue that permeated the décor of the wedding, and a deeper, slate blue. The dresses were made with pleated chiffon and a delicate strap that met over one shoulder, but Sara’s, obviously, had to be altered to accommodate her growing stomach. Etienne, the designer, had thrown a tantrum. He’d ranted about fabric draping, symmetry, and lines and even threw in the term bulbous belly. It had taken a lot of screaming on his part and a lot of money on mine, and six alterations to finally get her dress right, but it was done. And I couldn’t wait for my glowing, giddy, beautiful maid of honor to wear it.

“I bet Max likes your pregnant body, too,” Mina said, giving Sara a knowing smile.

“Oh, he does,” I answered for her, untwisting Sara’s necklace at the back of her neck. “I feel like I’m watching something indecent even when he’s just pouring her a glass of water.”

Sara’s cheeks turned crimson and I laughed, loving how pregnancy made her completely unable to hide her blush.

“Are we ready to head out?” Julia asked, draining the last of her minibar vodka tonic. “I need to get my drink on.”

We all made our way to the door, filing out one at a time. Down in the lobby, Mina had the valet call us a car, and just as I climbed in and closed the door, I saw the men emerge from the lobby of the hotel.

“Jesus, Chloe,” Julia breathed, looking at Bennett at the front of the group. “Look at that man.”

And with my lip pinched between my teeth, I could only nod in agreement. As usual, he’d barely paid any attention to his hair and it was in the usual, completely fuckable disarray. His lips were curled up in amusement at something Will had just said, and when he lifted his chin to nod at the valet, I caught sight of the sharp, edible line of his jaw. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt that wasn’t tight but managed to showcase the definition of his body beneath the soft cotton-cashmere blend. I knew this shirt well; I bought it for him and planned to steal it and make it mine in a couple of years after he’d worn it to the perfect state of tattered.

Seducing him tonight would be a lot of fun.

My legs were hidden from view, and from his vantage point all Bennett would see was the very top of my tiny black dress.

“You’re in so much trouble,” Sara murmured next to me, staring down at my heels. “I’m actually hoping I’m there to see his reaction.”

“I know!” I said, giddy.

Bennett’s eyebrow went up in a silent question and I held my hand out the window, giving him a breezy wave: no, we weren’t waiting for them.

“Meet you at Sidebar on Market!” Julia yelled out the window, and Bennett raised his hand, wearing his trademark amused smirk.

Sidebar was gorgeous, with rich red and black leather seating, enormous mirrors and sensual nude photos on the walls, and bright red birdcages hanging from the ceiling. The main bar was expansive, made of gleaming marble with a simple filigree pattern decorating the front. The bar was busy but not full when we arrived, and we immediately claimed two large booths toward the back of the room.

The men hadn’t been as quick to arrive from Coronado, so we had time to order drinks and return to our seats before they showed up. I looked to the door just as Bennett led the group inside, with Max, Will, Henry, and Bennett’s cousins Chris and Brian trailing at the back. But when I stood to greet them, and Bennett’s eyes raked over me, from my red lips to my siren red toenails, I knew I was in deep, deep trouble.

I ignored the pressure of his attention as best I could, but with him it was nearly impossible. His focus was a physical presence, a heavy weight on my neck, my breasts, and most of all, the long expanse of my exposed legs. We stood and greeted our friends, and I felt my chest grow tight, my heart race with how fun it was having everyone together. I kissed Brian, Will, and Max and greeted Bull with a brief-but-polite hug.

Only then did I look Bennett over more slowly, and felt a familiar warmth spread from my stomach and down between my legs. Stretching on my tiptoes, I kissed the corner of his mouth. “Hi. You look good enough to lick tonight.”

He returned my kiss, stiffly, and then leaned to press his mouth to my ear. “What in the fuck are you wearing?”

Glancing down, I smoothed my hands over my sleeveless, beaded black minidress. “It’s new. Do you like it?”

Before I could look up to catch his reply, Bennett grabbed me by my upper arm, pulled me down a dark hall, and shoved me against a wall. Even in the dim light I could see the rage and lust on his face. My favorite fucking Bennett. Arousal rose in me; every inch of my skin ached to feel his fingertips.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled.

“Could you be more specific? I’m having a drink, I’m out with some friends, I’m—”

Both of his hands came up, roughly pinning me by my shoulders to the wall. I let out a tight moan, and his eyes narrowed further. “The shoes, Chloe. Explain the fucking shoes.”

“They’re special to me,” I said, slowly blinking down to his mouth. I licked my lips as I stared at his, and he leaned in closer, instinctively. “Something old, something new. I wore these once when we were here together. Do you remember?”

Just as I suspected, his face grew impossibly more angry. “Of course I remember. And the ‘something old, something new’ is for the actual wedding day, not the entire week before when I’m trying to keep my hands off you.”

“I’m practicing,” I said, breathless. “In fact, there are a lot of things I’d like to practice before the wedding, Bennett. Like deep-throating.”

“Are you really trying to break me?”

I shook my head with wide, innocent eyes but said, “Yes. I really am.”

His grip on my shoulders lessened and he slumped forward, resting his forehead against mine. “Chlo . . . You know how much I want you every second.”

“I want you, too. So, I thought maybe later we could go back to the hotel and I could keep the shoes on? You could have me on my back, legs in the air . . .” I turned, kissed the shell of his ear. “Plus, I have this amazing corset on under here and—”

Bennett pushed away and turned, storming down the hall.

I took the opportunity to sneak into the women’s room to check my makeup and high-five myself in the mirror. But my martini wasn’t getting any colder, and I had some seducing to do, so I didn’t linger long.

Bennett seemed to have calmed himself by the time I returned to the table, and was sitting in the booth with Max and Will while the other men ordered drinks at the bar and the women danced a few yards away from where we sat. Bennett’s arm was slung over the back and I slid in beside him, running my palm from his knee to his upper thigh. “Hi,” I said again. “Having fun?”

He gave me a look that would have melted the face off a lesser opponent, and I grinned, leaning to kiss his neck and whispering, “I can’t wait for you to come in my mouth later.”

He coughed, practically dropping his vodka gimlet onto the tabletop, and earning a few curious looks from Will and Max across the table.

“You okay over there, Bennett?” Will asked, knowing grin in place. Had Bennett told the men about his newly donned chastity belt? I hoped he had; no one would be happier to help me in my plan to derail Bennett’s determination than Will and Max.

“Just went down the wrong pipe,” Bennett explained.

“He’s usually much better when he’s aiming it down mine,” I said in a stage whisper, and both Will and Max burst into laughter across the table. Will leaned forward to give me a high-five.

“Has he told you about his new virginity?” I asked.

“He mentioned he’s enjoying the sport of keeping you waiting,” Max said. “But for the record, Chloe, I’d like to say that those heels are fucking smashing.”

“I agree!” I said, grinning over at my fiancé.

The booth was large enough for several people, and after they’d ordered their drinks, Brian and Bull joined the four of us. For several quiet moments we sipped our cocktails, and Max and I shared an amused grin when we heard Sara’s cackle across the room.

“That’s your girl over there,” I said.

He raised his glass to me, cheeks flushed, and murmured, “Indeed it is,” before taking a sip.

I looked over at Sara and laughed. “Actually, that’s your girl over there with a big belly . . . carrying a tray of shots.”

He looked up and groaned, standing to walk over. His words drifted out of earshot after we heard him say, “Sare, love, that’s too heavy . . .”

“He is whipped,” Will murmured.

“Don’t even start on that, Sumner,” Bennett said with a shake of his head. “You can barely keep your tongue in your mouth around Hanna.”

Will shrugged and leaned back in the booth, not even hiding the way he looked over at his girlfriend and studied every inch of her exposed legs.

I let my eyes move around the men at the table and wondered if they were being relatively quiet because they wanted me to leave so they could discuss guy things, like penises and basketballs and toilets. But I was so comfortable, and the weight of Bennett’s arm around my shoulder was too perfect to want to move. The only way I would move is if it was to climb into his lap and wiggle a little.

I started to execute this brilliant idea, but he stopped me with a tight grip on my shoulder. “Don’t you dare.”

“Are you hard?” I asked quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.

He shot me a look. “No.”

I licked my lips and felt my pulse take off when his eyes dropped to my mouth and he leaned a little closer. “How about now?”

“You’re impossible, woman.” He moved away, reaching for his drink.

A large tattoo of a woman’s face on Bull’s arm caught my eye and I leaned close to Bennett again, but he leaned away.

“No, come here,” I said, pulling at his T-shirt. “I have a question. I swear I’m not going to lick your ear.” Reluctantly he leaned close enough for me to quickly lick his ear before asking, “Who is that on Bull’s arm?”

He studied it for a second before turning to whisper, “I think that’s his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend?—Maisie. They’ve been on-again, off-again since they were teen­agers.”

I absorbed this information: Bull might currently be “on” with this Maisie woman and was hitting on every vagina under forty in the wedding party. “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish.”

I studied it as casually as I could; the last thing I wanted to do was raise Bull’s attention and let him think I was checking him out. But the tattoo was enormous, practically the size of my entire hand, and incredibly detailed. It had been hidden at the dinner the night before under his dress shirt, but now, in casual clothing, the entire thing was revealed, in full color. Basically, it was Maisie’s face, neck, and chest stopping just where the hint of her breasts began to swell.

Turning back to Bennett, I whispered, “Jesus. She must be bringing it. I know how to suck a dick but no one has ever tattooed my face on their skin.”

Bennett went still, hand frozen where he had just reached for his glass.

“I don’t expect you to tattoo my face on your arm, Mr. Ryan, settle down.”

He exhaled heavily, bringing the glass to his lips and saying, “That’s good,” before he took a sip.

“But I would like to suck your dick so hard you promise to do it anyway,” I said and laughed as he planted his hand on my back and shoved me out of the booth, telling me to go play with the girls for a bit.

We danced, and drank; Hanna and Mina were an unstoppable combination of inappropriate, and had all of us laughing until our sides hurt on the dance floor. It was a perfect night: out with all of my favorite people in the entire world, surrounded by my girlfriends while the love of my life hate-loved me with fiery intensity from across the room.

And, because they were fully on my side in this ridiculous abstinence business, Max and Will came and joined us and surrounded me, dancing and teasing, lifting me up and carrying me to Bennett for an upside-down, drunken kiss.

“I love you anyway,” I told him as he scowled down at me. “And I’m going to break you tonight.”

He shook his head, giving in to the smile he was trying to fight. “I love you anyway, too. And you can try your hardest, but it won’t work. You’re not getting my dick again until we’re married.”

We brushed our teeth side by side and studied each other in the mirror. I was wearing a thick cotton robe over my weapon of mass seduction, but Bennett wore only his boxers, so I took some time to appreciate his naked torso. I loved his man nipples, the dusting of hair on his chest, and the definition of his shoulders, chest, and stomach. I lovingly counted the six-pack and then stared at the trail of hair leading from his belly button to beneath his boxer briefs. I wanted to lick that line and then taste the smooth skin of his cock.

“Did you take a sleeping pill again?”

He shook his head, mouth wide as he brushed his back molars.

“I like your body,” I said around a mouthful of toothbrush.

He flashed me a foamy toothpaste smile. “Likewise.”

“Can I give you head?”

He bent to spit and rinse his mouth before saying simply, “No.”

“Want to give me a quickie from behind?”

He wiped his face on a towel and then placed a peck on the top of my head. “No.”

“Handie?” I asked to his retreating form as he left the bathroom.

“No.”

I washed my face and walked out into the bedroom to join him. He was already under the covers, reading some political nonfiction book.

“I’m going to try to not be insulted that there’s a military man on the cover of that book and you just turned down a blow job.”

“Let me know how that works out for you,” he said, giving me a little wink.

Shrugging, I stripped out of my robe and stood near him, wearing a tiny mint-green thong with a skirt overlay in silk chiffon with delicate floral embroidery and matching sheer bra. Thin silken garters held up the softest nude stockings I’d ever worn.

He glanced up and did a quick double take, exhaling, “Christ,” under his breath.

“Just some comfy jammies,” I said, hopping over him and climbing under the covers. “I just love sleeping next to you when I’m wearing silk garters and these flimsy, expensive panties.”

He adjusted the pillows behind his back and returned to his book, but I counted to one hundred before he even turned his attention from one page to the next, so I could tell there was no way he was actually reading anything.

Sliding the covers down to expose my upper thighs, I curled into his side, humming. “You should feel these stockings. They’re so delicate. I bet you could just look at them and they’d rip.”

Bennett coughed, and then smiled patiently down at me. “I’m sure they would. I bought them for you, after all.”

“But I’m just not sure I should sleep in them.” I frowned thoughtfully. “Can you help me take them off?”

He hesitated for a beat, staring at his book before turning and placing it carefully on the bedside table. And then he peeled the blankets all the way off my legs and studied me in the muted light of the table lamp.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, bending to kiss my neck, my collarbone, and the top swell of my breast.

Victory exploded with adrenaline in my veins and I closed my eyes, arching my spine so he could unclasp my bra, lifting my ass so he could carefully remove the tiny skirt around my panties. But I opened my eyes, studying him as he gently peeled the stockings down my legs, planting only a single kiss on the inside of each knee.

Something was off.

When I lay only in my panties, Bennett looked up at me and smiled wickedly before grasping them and sliding them down my legs, dropping them undamaged on the floor beside the bed.

“Better?” he asked, stifling a laugh.

I glared at him, trying to burn a hole in his forehead with my eyes. “You’re a prick.”

His eyes danced. “I know.”

“Do you know how much I want to feel you on top of me? Did you not see that lingerie? It was ridiculous! You could have ripped it with your teeth!”

“It was stunning.” Bennett bent and kissed my mouth so sweetly, so fully, that my chest squeezed almost painfully in pleasure. “I know how much you want it. I want it, too.” He nodded to his shorts, where he was so hard I could see the tip of his cock pressing up from beneath the waistband. “I’m asking you to trust me.”

He reached to turn off the light, and then turned so that he was on his side facing me. “Tell me you love me.”

I ran my hands up his bare chest and into his hair. “I love you.”

“Now go to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day. The rest of the guests arrive, we rehearse our wedding, and I am one day closer to being your husband. After that, I will never deny you again.”

He kissed me slowly, all firm, warm lips, no tongue, no sounds, just his mouth on mine, sweetly sucking and soothing me until I felt serene, and doted on, and even drowsy enough to imagine I could fall asleep next to this man and not need to be worn-out from orgasms.

I woke up to an otherwise-empty bed. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, and I started to fall back asleep before remembering that Bennett wouldn’t be up working; we were in San Diego for our wedding. My heart exploded in panic and a cold, sick feeling of déjà vu crept into my stomach. What if Bennett was sick?

I bolted upright and looked at the light under the bathroom adjoining our darkened bedroom. Climbing out of bed, I moved into the main room of our suite and to the small bathroom adjoining the living area. The light under there was on, and I tiptoed forward, not sure whether I should call out to him or just go back to bed and hope that he was okay.

I blinked, taking a step backward and remembering the only other time I’d seen Bennett sick—the food poisoning incident I’d discussed with Sara earlier.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I’d asked him.

“Because the last thing I needed was you in there, watching me throw up.”

“I could have done something. You don’t have to be such a man.”

“Don’t be such a woman. What could you have done? Food poisoning is pretty lonely business.”

Resolved to leave him alone, I started to turn back to the bedroom . . .

Until I heard a quiet groan.

My heart twisted in sympathy and my pulse picked up speed. I moved to the door, putting my hand against the wood. Just as I was about to call out to him, to ask if he needed a Popsicle or some ginger ale, he moaned and sounds of pleasure escaped in his deep voice: “Oh, fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

I pulled my hand back from the door and slapped it over my mouth, stifling a gasp. Was he . . . ? Did he escape to the nonbedroom bathroom so he could. . . ?

On the other side of the door the faucet turned on, and I stared at the wood as if I could develop X-ray vision if I only concentrated hard enough. How often did he do this? Did he masturbate all the time in the middle of the night? The faucet creaked slightly as he shut off the water and I turned, bolting back into the bedroom.

I hurled myself on the mattress and yanked the covers up to my chin so Bennett wouldn’t know I’d moved from where he left me, sleeping. Sleeping while he tugged one out in the other room!

I rolled into my pillow, stifling a giggle. In the other part of the suite, the bathroom door opened, and a slice of light cut across the carpet before everything quickly went black when he flipped off the switch.

I listened intently, trying to slow my breathing as he padded across the carpet and back into the bedroom. Bennett carefully lifted the covers and slid in beside me, curling up along my side and kissing my temple.

“Love you,” he whispered, running his water-cooled hands over my too-hot skin.

I still hadn’t decided if I was going to pretend to be asleep, or bust him for this and give him endless shit, so I sleepily rolled into him, sliding my hand up and over his chest to rest on his heart. His pulse was hammering, racing, positively pounding.

Like he’d just had a sneaky, covert orgasm.

I cuddled into him, stretching close to his ear. “You didn’t even moan my name. I’m insulted.”

Beside me he froze, his hand covering mine on top of his heart. “I thought you were sleeping.”

I snorted. “Obviously.” I nibbled at his jaw. “Did you have a nice self-inflicted bathroom orgasm?”

Finally, he admitted, “Yes.”

“Why did you bother going in there? I have a hand and several orifices at the ready.”

With a laugh, he simply said, “Chloe.”

“Do you do that a lot?” I wondered if he could hear the slight edge of anxiety in my voice.

“I’ve never done it when I’m with you. I just . . .” He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm. “You’re naked. It’s hard to . . .” Laughing, he seemed to reconsider what he was going to say. “It’s just been hard for a few hours. I couldn’t sleep.”

I loved his voice in the middle of the night, all deep and gravelly. I loved it even more after he’d had a middle-of-the-night orgasm . . . even if he’d had it from sneaking into the bathroom and stroking himself. His voice was always deeper after he’d come, his words delivered more slowly. He was impossibly sexier. “What were you thinking about?”

He paused, his thumb smoothing up and down the back of my hand. “Your legs spread over my face and your mouth on my cock. Like the other night, except without your teasing.”

“Who came first?”

With a groan, he said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t . . .”

I smacked his chest lightly. “Oh please. I know how specific your fantasies are.”

Rolling to me in the dark, he said, “You came first. Of course you came first. Okay? Can we go back to sleep?”

I ignored this. “Did you come in my mouth or on my—”

“In your mouth. Sleep, Chloe.”

“I love you,” I said, leaning to kiss him.

For a moment, he let me take his lip into my mouth and suck on it, nibble it. But then he pulled away and wrapped his arms around my waist, shifting my head closer to his chest. “I love you, too.”

“I don’t want to get up and go to the bathroom,” I said, smiling into the darkness.

I heard his mouth open but it was several seconds before he made a sound. “What do you mean?”

I rolled to my back and spread my legs so one of them was bent and resting on top of his thigh.

“Chloe . . .” he groaned.

I found that I was already wet, just from the idea of what he’d done, and what he’d been thinking. I was wet from the memory of his voice in the bathroom when he came: it was the sound of relief mixed with regret, and the fact that I could tell it was more out of necessity than fun made it so much hotter. I slid my fingers over my skin, rocked up into my hand.

Beside me, Bennett held very still until I let out my first quiet moan, and then he shivered and melted against me, rolling so he half covered my body, and ducked to kiss a path from my throat to my breast.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered into my skin. “Tell me every fucking thought.”

“It’s your hand,” I said, feeling my pulse quicken with my own strokes, “and you’re teasing me.”

His voice was so deep it was barely more than a vibration when he asked, “How so?”

Swallowing, I told him, “I want you to touch my clit and you’re just dragging your fingers in tiny circles all around it.”

He laughed, sucking a nipple into his mouth before releasing it with a quiet, slick kiss. “Slide just one finger inside. Keep teasing. I want to hear you beg for it.”

“I want more.” My finger was so much smaller than his, and one of his was never enough. One of mine was a torment with that voice in my ear and that breath on my skin. “I want faster, and bigger.”

“Such a demanding body you have,” he said, sucking on my jaw. “I bet you’re slippery and hot. I bet I know exactly how you taste right now.”

My fingers circled, still teasing, knowing it’s what he would do. What he wanted me to do. I pressed my head back into the pillow, whispering, “Faster. Please, more of something.”

“Both hands,” he relented quietly. “Two fingers inside and work the outside. Let me hear it.”

I slid my other hand down my body and inched closer to him, feeling the unyielding shape of his renewed erection against my hip. With both hands, I touched myself, relishing the clean sweat and soap smell of him beside me, the rough scratch of his stubble on my neck and chest as he kissed me hungrily, whispering, “Goddamn it, Chloe. Let me hear you.”

My breath caught as he slid his palm over my breast, squeezing it roughly before ducking to pull the peak deep into his mouth. I loved the sound he made when he suckled me. It was desperate, and rumbling; a sound so rich I could feel it behind my eyes, and in the center of my bones.

“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Close . . .”

He released my nipple from his mouth and reached to whip the covers off my body, exposing my skin to the cool air of the hotel room and the blazing heat of his eyes.

“It’s my hand you’re fucking,” he growled. “Show me what you like.” I lifted my hips from the mattress, wanting to please him, wanting him to relent and climb over me, claim me as his.

But instead, Bennett slid one of my legs higher up my body so he could reach down and land a sharp smack on my backside. “I’d do better; my hand would fuck you harder than this. I’d make you scream.”

It was a sufficient stand-in, and with his lips pressed to my ear telling me he was going to fuck me so long and so rough on Saturday that the next day I’d wish it’d been my own hand instead, I managed to come, hot and pulsing against my fingers.

But it wasn’t even close to what he made me feel.

We fell back against the pillows in breathless, unsatisfied silence.

It wasn’t enough to orgasm, and to feel his breath on my breasts and his filthy words on my skin. I wanted to feel his pleasure when he came in me, or on me, or simply with me. I wanted to witness every time he felt that moment of release. He was mine; his pleasure was mine, and his body was mine. Why was he making me wait for it?

But as he ran a big, possessive hand from my hipbone to my shoulder, stopping at every curve along the way, I understood what he was doing.

He was giving me something other than the wedding to think about.

He was being a withholding ass so I would torment him.

He was making me torment him, and pretending to hate it.

He was ensuring that this week would feel like us, and we could be outwardly focused on everyone else while staying focused only on each other behind every blink, in every dark room, and in each one of our private thoughts.

Bennett was ensuring that we would see each other at either end of the aisle and know we made the best choice of our lives.

“You’re pretty brilliant, do you know that?” I asked, curling into him and running a hand up over his shoulder and into his hair.

He pressed his lips to my neck and sucked. “You can thank me later, Einstein.”

He turned his head to kiss me and I groaned into his touch. His lips were so firm, so commanding and I gave in to him as he parted them and pressed his tongue inside, sweeping, searching.

I shook when his hands returned to my skin, warm and rough, feeling every curve and dip, every small hollow. I felt the hard press of his cock against my stomach and tried to roll him on top of me.

“I want you inside,” I said. I heard my own voice and it was hoarse and needy. I ran my hands up his neck, cupping his face and trying to pull him closer.

But he inhaled, turned and pulled my fingers into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, taking each of them between his lips and rolling them over his tongue, tasting my sex. He pushed my hand away, sweeping a frustrated palm over his face and rasping, “Goddamnit.”

“Ben—”

Before I could hold on and keep him there, he’d rolled out of bed and walked back to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.