by Dyanne Davis
“Oh Damien,” Mia pleaded, leaning down, kissing his lips, his eyes and his cheeks. “Please wake up. This is our wedding night.”
It was no use. Damien was dead to the world. This was just a coincidence, she assured herself. It had nothing to do with Damien’s desire for her and everything to do with how much he’d had to drink. That was all. Still, she felt sorry for herself. She was a bride and she’d waited her entire life for this night. It could never be repeated.
Mia lay down next to Damien, her head on his bare chest. With nothing else to hold her interest, she began looking around the room, her eyes lighting on the gaily-wrapped package on the corner table.
At least Damien hadn’t forgotten about her wedding gift. She’d forgive him now. She hopped from the bed and rushed to rip the paper from the package. Mia stared in shock and dropped the box. A porno tape. Fifty Ways to Please Your Lover. She looked back at Damien snoring on the bed and the tears slid beneath her lashes. This wasn’t the gift she’d had in mind. Her thoughts had ran more the way of jewelry, or at the least, a sexy gown.
* * *
When Damien woke, his cotton mouth reminded him of his overindulgence. He reached a hand across the bed for Mia and found only empty space. He squeezed his eyes shut to blank out the jackhammers going off in his head. A moment later, he realized that the sound was actually running water.
“Damn, how long does Mia need to put on a gown?” he muttered. He attempted to sit but fell back to stop the spinning. That was odd, he thought, but decided to give it a few more seconds to pass. Then he would drag his wife out of the bathroom. It was their wedding night.
Silence, blessed silence. The water had stopped its infernal racket. Mia should be out in a minute. Maybe he wouldn’t have to drag her out, just wait for her to join him on the bed. The bathroom door opened and his wife stepped out.
Dressed.
Not in the sexy white negligee that he’d seen her carry into the bathroom with her, but in jeans and a blouse. Damien frowned and continued his inventory. She even had on shoes. What the hell was she planning?
“Baby girl, what happened to the sexy gown?”
“That was last night,” his wife answered him.
He froze. Something was wrong. She wasn’t looking at him and she definitely wasn’t teasing him. Hell, she wasn’t happy.
“Mia, what happened in that damn bathroom?”
She glared at him.
“Mia, what’s going on?”
“Look at the clock. You’d better get dressed; we’re meeting our families for breakfast. Then we have a plane to catch.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Damien’s eyes shifted to the clock and he groaned. No wonder his new bride was pissed, he’d passed out and totally blown their wedding night.
“Come here, baby girl, I’m sorry. Come on, let me get you out of those clothes.”
“We don’t have time.”
“We have time for a quickie.” He looked at her face. Damn. Mistake number two.
Kicking away the covers, he jumped out of the bed and reached for Mia. “Baby girl, forgive me.” He pulled her close, ignoring her resistance and holding on for dear life. “Don’t be mad at me. Do you have any idea how mad I am at myself? I’ve been waiting all this time to make love to you and the first chance I get I blow it.”
Oomph.
“What the…Mia,” Damien moaned, offended. “Why did you elbow me?” He moved away from her, knowing he’d somehow made mistake number three, even though he didn’t know what it was.
“I was trying to apologize, baby.” He groaned, still smarting from her blow to his ribs.
“You’re not doing it very well.”
Okay, so she was really pissed. He’d never seen her so, he thought, cold as ice. “Mia, what the hell happened to you when I passed out? Did I do something to you? If I did, tell me. I don’t remember.”
Damien was worried, wondering if the reason Mia was staring at him as if she no longer knew him, no longer loved him, was because of something he couldn’t remember. He was trying desperately to pull himself together, to remember. He’d wanted her so badly, but that was nothing different. He’d always wanted her and he’d never attacked her in the past. Still, there was something in her eyes. But no matter how hard he tried, he was drawing a blank. Surely his first time with his wife had not taken place without him being able to remember it.
“Mia, if I was a little rough or impatient last night, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“What are you talking about, Damien?” Mia asked.
It was the way she said his name that chilled him, as though he were some insect to be stepped on. He decided to ignore her temper and answer her question. “I’m talking about our making love. I’m sorry if it wasn’t good for you.”
“We didn’t make love. You were asleep.”
Mia turned from him and began putting her wedding gown on a hanger. “You’d better get dressed,” she said.
He tried again. “I’m sorry about our wedding night.”
“Not as sorry as I am,” she answered.
* * *
Damien snapped Mia’s bag shut. “Do you have everything?” he asked.
“Yes.”
She was still giving him one word answers. He had hoped by the time he got out of the shower she would have thawed a little. He smiled, their first fight as a married couple. He lifted the bags and made his way toward the door. A strange crinkling sound made him pause. Damien looked down and spotted the torn wrapping paper.
She got my gift. That would melt her, he thought and carried the luggage downstairs to leave at the desk until it was time for their flight.
* * *
Mia carried the bag with her wedding gown as she walked behind Damien. Keefe had agreed to take that home for her. She hated that they’d made plans to meet their families for breakfast. She’d hated it from the first time that it was mentioned. She knew what everyone was going to want to know. She didn’t want them staring at her, imagining what she’d done or hadn’t done.
She shuddered. If she were talking to Damien, she would ask him to cancel, to call everyone and tell them they were eating in…but then she’d have to do what she hadn’t done last night and she wasn’t quite ready for that particular intimacy. To think that they’d both been so looking forward to it.
* * *
“Mia, are you not going to talk to me at all?” Damien asked as he turned from the check out desk and reached for the bag that his wife carried.
She sighed. “I don’t have anything to say.”
To that he laughed, moving closer to her, holding her tight and singing, “‘Just the thought of youuuuu…’” He felt a tremble ripple through her body and chuckled. She’d thaw. Then he brought his lips around to hers, kissed her lips softly, then the hollow of her neck. Again she trembled and he smiled.
“I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me,” he whispered.
“Hey, you two, get a room. Oh, that’s right, you just had a room,” Charles said coming up to them, talking in a voice loud enough for the entire lobby to hear.
Damien let go of Mia, sensing a change in her mood. Inside he cursed his father’s bad timing. In a matter of moments their entire family was assembled and he wished they’d never made plans to have breakfast with all of them. What a dumb ass idea.
“So, Mia, how are you this morning?” his father sneered. Damien felt Mia stiffen and closed his hand around hers, giving her fingers a squeeze. “I’m good,” Mia answered at last and Damien headed the group into the restaurant, smiling down at Mia, grateful that she was still holding his hand.
For over an hour they all behaved. True, Mia was quieter than usual, not looking at her mother, and he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t looked in the woman’s direction either. He was surprised to see her there but hadn’t made a fuss.
For now at least even his father was behaving. Well, almost. The majority of his father’s attention was concentrated o
n Lillian. So when it happened, Damien had been lured into complacency and had let down his guard.
“So, Damien, tell us. Was your bride worth the wait?”
He was getting ready to answer his father’s damn question, to tell him that Mia was definitely worth the wait, when he caught the smirk on his father’s face, saw the hidden meaning. Before he could stop him, his father started laughing and Mia’s mother joined in.
Before Damien got a chance to say one word, Mia was up from the table and walking away. Though he wanted to tell both her mother and his father to go to hell, to keep their noses out of their private affairs, he leaped up and followed Mia. She was more important. Behind him he heard Keefe’s voice raised in anger. Damn. This had been a bad idea.
“Mia, wait up. Don’t let him get to you.” He caught Mia’s hand as she raced to the desk and saw her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. He cringed. “Mia, he’s…” God, what could he say? “Mia, he was way out of line. I’ll take care of it.”
She was ignoring him, asking the desk to call for the bags and a taxi. Damien peered out the door and saw a taxi waiting. The door opened as if fate had known this would happen.
Mia stormed out the door and he followed, putting the bags in the cab and climbing in beside Mia. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” he asked Mia, pointing to her brother who’d run out the door.
“No,” she said. I just want to go. Please.”
No amount of consoling, singing or pleading worked. “I don’t believe this,” Damien mumbled low. “Why are you blaming me for what my father said?”
Mia glared at him, her anger intensifying with each second. “Who would you like me to blame?” she asked, her voice shaking. “God, what did you do, take out an ad, Damien?” She’d held her emotions in for hours and she really didn’t want to cry, not here in a taxi, but she couldn’t stop the tears that came. She pushed Damien away, not wanting his arms around her. She ignored his, “This is one hell of a start to a honeymoon” and cried even harder. She agreed completely.
Chapter Thirteen
Sin City, the capital of fun. Mia winced as she woodenly followed Damien from the elevator and down the hall to the room. Because he had decided to bring the bags up himself, Mia said a catty thing to him. “Can’t wait to see what you got, I bet.” His jaw clenched and he ignored her. She was feeling evil, evil and scared as hell. Everything was falling apart. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Damien set the bags on the floor, then turned to her. “Are we going to keep fighting,” he asked. “Because I don’t think I want to.”
“I don’t want to either,” Mia whispered. “I thought…I hate this.”
“What do you hate exactly?” Damien asked slowly. “That we’re fighting, or that we’re married?”
“I hate that I’m being judged, that everyone I know is probably right now taking bets on us. God, Damien, how could you tell your father something so personal? He’s making jokes about me right now. I can feel it.”
“Don’t let him…don’t let anyone interfere with us, Mia, we have a good thing here. Come on, let’s stop fighting.”
He held his arms out and she went willingly into them. She was crying and she needed him to comfort her, tell her that she was wrong, that they were all wrong, that he really did love her, that sex was only a tiny part of it. But he was undressing her, pulling her blouse off her shoulder and she felt his hardened flesh pressing against her. Just the thought of what was on his mind made her angry. Comfort was what she needed now. Not sex.
“Let me do that for you,” she snarled and yanked her clothes off, not stopping until she stood before him naked. “Come on, Damien, it’s what you’ve been waiting for. You might as well see if I’m worth the wait.” Without a thought she ran to the bed, threw the covers back and lay down spread-eagled.
“Is this what you want? You’ve got it. You married me, I’m your wife. Let’s see if the wait was worth it.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Damien asked, the anger seeping through. “You’re taking this way out of proportion. Listen, I didn’t ask for a virgin sacrifice.”
“Then what is it that you want?”
“I want the woman that I married a few hours ago. I want the one who begged me to help her keep her vow because she found it difficult to say no to me. I want the woman who gets hot when she looks at me, Mia, that’s what I want. And please, for God’s sake, tell me where she went because she sure as hell isn’t here.”
Mia stared at Damien. He was right. She wasn’t the same woman. She stared until she burst into tears again. Then she pulled the covers over her nude body and burrowed her head in the soft down pillows.
“Mia, I’m going downstairs for awhile. I need to cool off and so do you,” Damien said, as he closed the door behind him. He stood for a minute listening to the sounds of Mia’s sobs through the door. He put his palm against the door and whispered, “Stop crying, baby girl. I’m sorry, it’s going to be okay.” But he wasn’t so sure. He shook his head and walked back toward the elevator thinking, What a difference a day makes.
For over two hours Damien sat in a bar at Caesar’s Palace. He smiled dully at the scantily clad waitresses coming and going. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned his honeymoon, his bride crying in their hotel room while he sat in a bar nursing a drink and feeling sorry for himself. He also hadn’t envisioned his bride remaining a virgin.
With that thought he got a renewed surge of energy and his erection pulsed in his pants. But his erection was the thing that had made Mia go off in the first place. How the hell was he supposed to control it? He wanted her. Hell, he’d always wanted her. Their honeymoon was definitely no exception.
Damien threw a few bills on the bar and walked out, heading for the house phone he knew was just outside the door.
“Mia,” he said as she answered. “I’m sorry, baby. Can I come back up?” His voice was raw with his need. He didn’t want to frighten or anger her but he needed to feel himself inside her body. He needed to cement their relationship. Once they made love, he knew all would be forgiven. That was his talent, his gift. If only he could get the chance to show his bride just how good he could be.
“I’m sorry too,” Mia answered. “I’m acting like a child. I know that. I think…I think maybe all the wedding preparations. My mother, your father. I think everything just made me hormonal. Come on up.”
“Are you still undressed,” he asked.
“I’m still undressed,” she replied, a bit of the frost returning.
“Do you think you could put on that lacy thing I didn’t get to see last night?” Damien could practically see Mia smiling through the phone.
“I can do that,” she answered.
“I love you, my sweet wife.”
“You can’t possibly love me as much as I love you,” Mia answered.
* * *
She hadn’t ruined things. Mia raced for her bag, dug around and found the gown, ignoring the wedding gift her husband had gotten for her. Mia washed her face with a cool cloth and quickly brushed and gargled. Yeah, she was more than ready to make love to her brand new husband.
When Damien returned, Mia was waiting by the bed. Her heart fluttering, she lifted her eyes to his face and smiled. “Damien, I love you and no matter how I’ve been acting this morning, I’m glad we’re married.” Then she was in his arms and he was kissing her and she was kissing him, laughing as he kissed her nose, her ears, and nibbled at her lips. His heat consumed her and became her own.
“Mia, we’ve waited so long,” Damien moaned.
She sucked in her breath, holding in her own moan. “I know,” she answered, giving in to the hunger, touching him with delight. As she felt the heat from her husband’s body, desire flared in her and exploded. Together they undressed him and Mia stood for a moment in shy embarrassment, watching him as his flesh jutted forward. She’d never seen a naked man this close, only in the movies, only in her mind. She shivered as her desire burned her to the d
epths Of her very soul.
“Damien,” she moaned as she felt herself being lifted into his arms. Her hands trailed down his side, feeling the hard rippling muscles. She had never before touched her husband’s flesh without the barrier of clothes between them. Her fingers twitched. This was a dream she wanted badly to fulfill.
Under the covers, her thoughts centered greedily on her own pleasures. Damien was touching her in her most intimate of places, probing all the areas she’d before smacked his hands away from, and she could feel the juices, her own juices, racing through her body, pouring out of her. She was moaning at his touch. Such ecstasy, such wonder. He suckled her breasts, licked her ears, her belly and all the time his fingers probed. And she was touching him in return, feeling his hardness in her hand, exploring his body with the pads of her fingers. She was burning with the heat, the lust, the wonder of it all.
Then he rose up, instructing her to open her legs. She complied and then he was there, at her entrance and she tensed without thinking as he pushed against her.
“Don’t tense up, Mia.”
She ordered her body to relax. Damien pushed a little harder and a sudden pain and intense burning ripped through her. This too she could handle. It would go away. She knew that.
“Mia, you don’t have to worry about a thing, not with me, and, baby, you’re going to be a fast learner. I can tell.”
Her needs took on a life of their own. She was doing whatever Damien asked without question. Liquid fire crawled through her.
“My God, Mia, you’re so tight.”
She chuckled. That was a good thing, she knew at least that much. Despite the feeling of her flesh being on fire, of being ripped apart, Mia wanted more. She trembled with the knowledge, and clung to Damien.