“That did not feel like bad luck. That felt very, very good.”
“Adam…”
“Okay, okay, I’ll be out before five. Which means I have over four more hours.” I was talking big, though. I knew perfectly well I was too exhausted to go again without some rest.
She yawned, as if reading my mind. “I’m sleepy,” she whispered, putting her head on my shoulder. In minutes, she was asleep, and I relished the sound of her breathing, burying my nose in her hair and drifting off into a pure, contented doze myself.
I wasn’t quite sure when it started, because I was definitely asleep at first, slowly becoming aware of a warm body pressed to mine, a weight on my chest, a mouth on my mouth. I was on that twilight edge between dream and reality, not quite sure what was real and what was manufactured by my subconscious mind. But slowly, slowly, reality took hold in an almost seamless way, and everything appeared as if in a fugue.
Emilia was kissing me, straddling me.
Without even opening my eyes, I reached up, cupping her breasts, and she shivered, sliding against me. I was rock hard again and ready and had, apparently, slept through any foreplay that had taken place.
This time was slow, and it took longer—a fact that didn’t bother me one bit. Emilia reached over to the nightstand and then handed me the condom, which I quickly took care of. Seconds later, I was inside her again as she rocked on top of me, her melodious moans in my ear.
I tried to take her hips and drive her movements, but Emilia shoved my hands away, bracing herself on my shoulders as she moved at a maddeningly slow pace. I hooked my hands around the back of her thighs, running my fingers along the soft skin there. We climbed slowly, together, every movement of her hips over mine taking us one step closer.
Soon, it was too much, and my hands were on her hips again, driving us toward that finish line together. This time, she didn’t shove me away, her movements becoming as urgent as mine. I was close, so close when I felt her still and tighten around me with her orgasm, nudging me over the top toward mine. And we came together—pulsing, ecstatic delight washing over both of us.
She slumped immediately, sliding to her side of the bed, slick with sweat. “Whatever that was, it was fun, and you should definitely do it more often,” I said.
She sighed. “I thought you were awake. You were grabbing me and muttering dirty stuff. You must have been dreaming.”
“I don’t remember, but I’m sure it was the best kind of dream.” I kissed her temple.
We slept again, locked in each other’s arms, peaceful and secure. It should feel like this every night. And yet, after all we had done together, the last thought that zinged through my mind made me feel like a kid on Christmas Eve.
When we came back to bed this evening, we’d be married.
Chapter 22
Mia
When I woke up, the sky was already lightening. My first awareness was of soreness, everywhere. Mostly in between my legs from all the sex and the use of muscles that had lain dormant for far too long. But also on my ass, where he had spanked me. And around my wrists, which had been tied together. And, of course, the raw and tender skin from where his abrasive growth of whiskers had rubbed my skin wherever he had kissed me—which was everywhere. My stomach, my breasts, the insides of my thighs. My neck. My ears. Even the small of my back had been scraped raw by his delicious, sandpapery kisses.
In short, I hurt all over, but with an exquisite sort of discomfort.
Hot desire rushed through me at the memories of last night. Or, rather, this morning. Or… I looked up and out over the bay from the open-walled suite and noted the gray sky. Hesitating as I lay on my side, I suddenly realized that my blindfold had slipped off.
Adam was still in my bed. Shit.
I dove under the covers, making sure my head and every part of my body was covered by sheets. Then I turned and nudged him with my leg.
“Adam.”
He didn’t move.
“Adam, you have to get up. It’s almost dawn.”
I nudged him again, harder.
“Adam.” I shoved him with my leg, and suddenly, he left the bed with a big thump.
“What the hell?” he said from the floor.
I winced. “Sorry, but you weren’t waking up. I didn’t mean to push you out. You need to go back to your room.”
“Damn, a simple shake of the shoulder would have sufficed.”
“I tried. I promise. You were out.”
“Some hot chick wore me down to a nub last night.”
“Lucky you. Now go.”
“All right, all right. Jeez.” I could hear him get off the floor and gather his clothes. The sound of his footsteps then faded in the direction of the bathroom.
I stayed under the covers until he returned, presumably dressed. “I’m still exhausted.”
“Well,” I said, “all that last night was your idea.”
“Yes. An amazing idea at that. I’m gonna go back to bed. See you at six.”
“Bye. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” he muttered before shutting the door, and he was gone.
I lowered the sheet, glancing at the clock, aware that I’d slept a grand total of maybe three hours the night before. Wondering if I could grab a few more, I rolled over, found one of the blindfolds, and pulled it over my head.
I slept two more hours before the excitement of the day caught up to me and I just couldn’t anymore. Dark circles or no, I had to get up.
Thank God for coffee. And concealer makeup.
***
The rest of the day passed in a blur of my mom and closest friends coming up to the suite. The makeup artist and hair stylist arrived and rotated among us. We shared them—along with the nervous excitement and the jokes.
I had to conceal that I was still sore from being used in the best way possible practically the entire night the night before. Damn, it had been hot. But hopefully, not enough to wreck my look and make me appear half dead in the wedding pictures.
Nevertheless, the stylists worked absolute magic.
My makeup had been done to flawless perfection, every blemish concealed in a natural glow. The stylist had left my dark hair flowing around my shoulders in loose curls, as I’d wanted.
And shortly before the ceremony, my mom helped me into the dress. The gorgeous garment had been altered to fit me perfectly. Mom stood behind me in the full mirror.
The gown was floor length, figure hugging, with a backless dip that draped in folds above my waist. It was adorned with tiny Swarovski crystals and trimmed with silver thread and accents.
“I’ve been dreaming of this day since that morning I first held you in the hospital. You were minutes old and I wanted the world for you, my beautiful Mia,” she said in a trembling voice, her eyes watering.
I turned to face her, my eyes and throat stinging with emotion. “Mom, I need to ask you to stop talking like this, or I’m going to start crying and ruin this makeup.”
She nodded silently, smoothing my hair and checking her watch.
A short time later, we were on the highest patio, facing west and overlooking the pointed green mountains and the aquamarine waters of the beach far below. The west patio seemed to hang off the mountain, providing a view that looked out over an infinite horizon against a champagne-colored sky. The guests sat in white linen-covered chairs on either side of an aisle, covered by gauzy awnings.
My mom and I stood at the back, hidden by a screen, awaiting our cue. When the string trio began to play Pachelbel’s Canon, Mom turned and hugged me for a long time. Then we stepped out from behind the screen, and she walked with me down the aisle to my future.
One of the defining moments of a wedding is when the groom turns and turns his eyes upon his bride in her gown for the first time. There are clips and montages all over the Internet showing that moment at different weddings. Some grooms show no emotion at all, sometimes a slight change in their eyes. Others are overcome with emotion, crying to the point o
f doubling over.
Adam was somewhere right in the middle of those two extremes. He definitely showed emotion, but he didn’t cry. He appeared more like someone had hit him violently in the stomach with a medium-sized metal club. Like he was holding his breath, though his body was screaming out for him to breathe.
Me? I totally cried. Smear-proof makeup was my friend.
And…if I’d concede any type of princess fetish, it would be that I did feel like fairytale royalty in this moment, standing here in front of all these people in my gorgeous gown in this stunning setting.
And the prince I had caught… He was beyond handsome in his black tux—with only a vest, no jacket, and a long necktie. In spite of the beard joking, he was clean-shaven, his perfect jaw and dimple revealed once more for all to see. His hair, freshly cut and styled, was combed to perfection. And yeah, dazzling as ever.
After all the buildup, the ceremony itself was rather short. We took each other’s hands and said our promises in front of our family members against the backdrop of the sinking sun—the sky all afire with gold, pink, and orange streaks.
We couldn’t have ordered a more beautiful sunset if we’d budgeted it in.
And yet as we were announced husband and wife, there were no rocket-generated shooting stars, though I half expected them.
Shortly thereafter, the party started. Right there. No procession out or any of that formal stuff. Because it was a small, intimate wedding, the chairs were moved to tables that were already set up. And the food was brought in.
We ate, we drank, and we danced. All with our closest loved ones.
It was the best.
I didn’t think anyone suspected that the bride and groom were almost too exhausted to enjoy it.
We danced our first dance to “Wonderful! Wonderful!” by Johnny Mathis, repeating those steps to the foxtrot that he’d taught me so long ago on our first date in Amsterdam. It was hard to believe that here we were, three years later. After all we’d been through, we were finally starting our forever. Together.
He teased me during that dance. The one that is supposed to be so sweet and emotional, when people dab their eyes and remark on how beautiful the couple is? And then the groom holds the bride close and whispers words of love in her ear…
In my case, it was definitely teasing.
“You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, Mrs. Drake. Why is that? Were you up all night with some strange man?”
“Why, yes, I was. Emphasis on the strange.” He gave me that cocky grin that sent shivers down my spine. “You are too gorgeous for your own good,” I said.
“It’s definitely for my good. You should have seen the hot piece of ass I scored last night.”
“Don’t you mean this morning? This has been a long day.”
“It’s not over yet.”
The thought made me simultaneously ache with anticipation and with exhaustion.
My wedding bouquet, white roses and white star chrysanthemums accented by silver and gold ribbons and metallic floral ornaments, was quite the prize. All the unattached females in the party gathered around to at least pretend like they wanted to catch it. Despite my best effort to launch it at Jenna, the bundle of flowers bounced off April’s head and caught in Kat’s hair, where it hung from the side of her long red tresses. She reached up to yank it out, clearly horrified. I assumed she wanted to rid herself of the thing, maybe pass it along to one of the more eligible women.
Much to her growing horror—and everyone else’s growing amusement—the more Kat tried to yank the bouquet out of her hair, the more it wound itself around her long hair so that, by the end, she was practically in tears trying to extricate it.
The fates had clearly wanted Kat to catch that bouquet. I’d have to keep my eye on that girl.
Minutes later, upon freeing the garter from my leg—to the tune of various wolf whistles and catcalls—Adam turned his back on his single friends and relatives and tossed the garter over his shoulder.
None of the men seemed even the remotest bit interested in catching that, either. But, hilariously, the garter landed on Jordan’s head—despite the fact that he had pointedly closed his eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets when Adam had thrown it.
When he’d realized what had happened and that it was now sitting on his head, he clearly wanted to punch Adam. And my groom laughed his ass off at his best man.
After cutting the cake—chocolate with raspberry filling, white and gold frosting—we very civilly managed not to cram the slices in each other’s face when we fed each other. Then came the toasts—Jordan’s, surprisingly, was eloquent and quite civilized.
Adam and I stayed at the reception until the ringing in of the New Year and slipped quietly away minutes afterward. When we left, the party was still going strong without us. Everyone was having a blast, like we’d hoped.
We ducked into an elevator that would take us directly to the honeymoon suite, where the butler had had my items moved this afternoon. Which worked out perfectly, because I had a wedding night surprise in store for Mr. Drake. One I hoped he’d enjoy.
The minute we were alone in the elevator, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “So you know, I’m only referring to you as Mrs. Drake from now on.”
I tilted my head back to gaze into his face, giving him a wide smile. “So I’m the tree and you’re peeing on me with your name to mark your territory?”
He winced slightly. “Not quite the way I’d put it. But in a way, yeah…because finally you are all mine. Mia even means mine in Italian. It’s like the universe aligning.”
“Or conspiring.”
His arm tightened around mine. “I want the world to know it…Mrs. Drake. Tu sei mia. You are mine.”
“Looks like I’m going to have to find a way to mark my territory,” I said with a meaningful tap on the wedding ring now gleaming from his left hand.
“I could offer a few suggestions.”
“I bet you could.”
The doors slid open, right into our suite. And I turned, gasping. All the lights were blazing, and all the entire suite was buried under a snowy blanket. White flowers and petals of every type covered every surface. White petals across the bedspread. White lilies even floated in the infinity pool and hot tub. Like a fresh snowfall in the tropics.
“This is beautiful.”
He scanned the room, equally in wonder. “And a complete surprise—even to me.”
“Oh dear, have they managed the impossible? Have they taken Adam Drake by surprise?”
He laughed, unbuttoning his waistcoat and loosening his tie.
“I’m so exhausted. I think I can sleep for a week.” I stretched my arms over my head. “Please tell me our honeymoon has lots and lots of sleeping scheduled.”
“You’ll be able to sleep as much as you want,” he said, giving me that knowing smile he always did when he had a secret—which was often. Adam loved his secrets.
“When do I get to find out where we are going?”
“Tomorrow morning, when we leave for…wherever we are going.”
I shook my head, laughing, kicking off my shoes. “You know, I’m not even going to try to guess. I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to you and surprises.”
“Except when they involve rockets and payloads of shooting stars?”
I laughed. “Yeah.” I sank into the nearest petal-covered chair with a sigh. “I’m so tired. So much hot sex all night long…”
Adam toed off his own shoes and left the vest and tie on the nearby dresser before moving over to the bed to sit down on it and stare at me.
“You are gorgeous. Have I told you yet?”
I grinned. “About three hundred and seventy-two times. But that’s okay. I like hearing it.”
I reached around and unhooked the pearl and diamond choker and matching earrings, setting them on the dresser next to his things.
“I think I should go slip into ‘something more comfortable,’” I said, making air quotes.
/>
“I hope it’s that naughty nurse’s outfit I’ve been craving.” He laughed, unbuttoning his shirt.
I stood. “With the type of patient you are? Hell no. That is one fantasy we will never be acting out.”
He made a face at me. “I wasn’t that bad.”
I grabbed the chic lingerie bag from one of the dresser drawers then headed for the bathroom. “You were the grumpiest of the grumps. No, thank you.”
“Never say never, Emilia,” he retorted as I shut the bathroom door.
He’d admit, as soon as he saw me, that my choice had been a far better one than a naughty nurse’s outfit.
Almost a half-hour later, after I’d removed the wedding dress, freshened up my hair, and figured the contraption out, I reappeared, covered modestly from neck to knee in one of the resort’s complimentary bath robes. Almost all of the lights had been extinguished, except for one. It provided an indirect, ambient lighting that equaled that of lit candles…nice and romantic.
My husband lay across the covers of the bed, wearing nothing but his underwear. He was staring up into the netted canopy, thinking, when I came up to stand in front of him.
His head turned, and he gazed at me expectantly. “When I saw you in that dress today, I thought that I’d never want to see you in anything else. Am I about to change my mind?”
I shrugged demurely, loosening the belt and lowering my robe to the floor so he could see me in the chic Agent Provacateur lingerie. The thing had cost me a small fortune, but hey, only the best for a billionaire’s wedding night.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, sitting up with wide eyes.
The sparkly ensemble covered nothing at all, in fact. Not that it was really supposed to. It was for purely decorative—and titillating—purposes only. In fact, it was nothing but a series of thin chains holding together coin-sized golden disks in order to imitate a sexy chain mail dress. And it left little to the imagination. I held my arms out and let him have his glimpse.
The cold metal settled against my nipples, causing them to tighten, and though his facial expression revealed nothing, the obvious and immediate swell in his underwear said it all.
Worth Any Cost: (Adam & Mia #4) (Gaming The System Book 6) Page 25