Chapter 1: Engagement Night Tease
The door clicked shut, the world outside sealed away. Before Taylor could take another breath, Patrick’s hands were on her hips, turning her, guiding her back against the cool wood.A soft gasp escaped her. His body pressed against hers, solid and warm, pinning her gently.
“Hi,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble she felt in her bones.
“Hi yourself.” Her own voice sounded breathless, barely a whisper in the moon-washed dimness of their bedroom. Silver light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across his shoulders, across the rose petals scattered like fallen constellations on the dark duvet behind him.
He didn’t kiss her mouth. He lowered his head, his lips finding the frantic pulse at the base of her throat.His breath was hot there. His smile against her skin was a tangible thing. “You,” he said, the word vibrating into her, “are going to look so stupidly beautiful walking toward me.”
A shiver, delicious and sharp, raced down her spine. She tipped her head back, offering more. “I might trip.”
“You won’t.” His mouth traveled up the column of her neck, slow and intent. “I’ll be watching you too hard.You’ll feel it. You’ll keep your feet just for me.”
His hands slid under the hem of her shirt, his palms rough and warm against the smooth plane of her stomach. Her muscles tightened under his touch, a flutter deep in her belly. She let out a shaky laugh, her fingers finding the mess of his hair. “So confident.”
“About you?” He lifted his head, his blue eyes catching the faint light.They were dark now, serious. “Always.” The playfulness returned, a smirk tilting his lips.“About everything else? I’m winging it.”
She laughed, the sound soft in the quiet room. He kissed her then, finally, on the mouth.It wasn’t gentle. It was a claiming, a celebration, all the unspoken promises of the last twenty-four hours poured into the slant of his lips, the slide of his tongue. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her shyness burned away by a familiar, hungry ache.When he broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers.“Tell me you’re excited,” he whispered.
“I’m excited.”
“Tell me you’re scared.”
She swallowed. “I’m terrified.”
“Good.” He kissed her again, softer this time. “Me too.” His hands moved higher under her shirt, his thumbs brushing the lower curve of her breasts. She arched into the touch, a small, needy sound escaping her. “But mostly,” he continued, his voice dropping to that register that melted her thoughts, “I’m thinking about what happens after.After everyone leaves. After it’s just us.”
He pushed her shirt up, and she raised her arms, letting him pull it off. The cool air brushed her skin, followed immediately by the heat of his gaze. He looked at her, and she didn’t feel shy.She felt wanted.
“I’m thinking about getting you out of that dress,” he said, his fingers tracing the lace edge of her bra. “It’s white, right?”
She nodded, wordless.
“It’s going to be a problem.” He undid the clasp with a practiced flick.“A beautiful, frustrating problem. All those tiny buttons.”
“You could just rip it.” The words were out before she could think, bold and foreign on her tongue.His eyes flashed.A slow grin spread across his face.“See? This is why I’m marrying you.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and walked her backward, away from the door, until her legs hit the edge of the mattress. She sank down, the petals soft beneath her palms.
He knelt before her, between her knees, his hands sliding up her thighs. “But I won’t rip it,” he said, leaning in to kiss the inside of her knee.“I’m going to take my time. I’m going to undo every single one.My hands might shake. You’ll probably laugh at me.”
“I won’t,” she breathed.“You will. It’s okay.” He kissed a path up her thigh, his stubble a delicious scratch. “And then when it’s finally off, and you’re just… you… I’m going to look. I’m going to look for a really long time. And then,” he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her pants and cotton shorts, drawing them down in one slow motion, “I’m going to taste you.”
He did. Right then. His mouth was on her, and her back bowed, her hands flying to his hair. The world narrowed to the feeling of his tongue, the pressure of his hands holding her hips down, the ragged sound of her own breathing.It wasn’t gentle. It was urgent, and perfect, and exactly what she needed. He drove her to the edge with a relentless focus, then eased back, kissing her inner thighs until she whimpered.He was teasing her. Building the ache until it was a live wire under her skin.
“Patrick, please.”
He looked up, his chin glistening.His eyes were black in the low light. “Please what?”
“I can’t—just—”
He shifted, rising over her, bracing himself on his arms. He was still fully clothed, a frustrating barrier. He lowered himself, letting her feel his weight, the hard line of his body against hers.He nuzzled her ear. “On our wedding night,” he whispered, his voice rough, “I’m going to do this for hours. Until you forget your own name. Until you can only say mine.”
She whimpered, turning her face to capture his mouth in a searing kiss.She could taste herself on his lips, salty and intimate. She fumbled for the button of his jeans, her fingers clumsy. He helped her, shoving them down, kicking them away.
When he entered her, it was with a low groan that seemed ripped from his chest.She cried out, her legs wrapping around him, pulling him deeper. The petals crumpled beneath them, releasing a faint, sweet scent into the air, mixing with the salt of their skin.
He moved, not with rushed frenzy, but with a deep, deliberate rhythm that made her feel utterly possessed. This was different.There was a new weight to it, a gravity. Every thrust felt like a vow.His eyes were open, locked on hers.
“You’re mine,” he said, the words punctuating his movement.Not a question. A fact, forged somewhere between the proposal and this moment.
“You’re mine,” she gasped back, digging her heels into the small of his back.It built, this terrifying, wonderful thing between them.The moonlight tracked a path across the wall. The silence of the apartment was broken only by the creak of the bed, the slap of skin, their increasingly ragged breaths. She felt herself splintering, coming apart under his hands, his mouth, his body.A sob broke from her throat as the wave crashed over her, relentless and bright. He followed her, his own release shuddering through him, his forehead dropping to her shoulder with a broken sigh.For a long time, they just lay there, a tangled mess of limbs and quiet. The sweat cooled on their skin. Her heartbeat slowly calmed to a steady, contented thump against his.
He finally shifted, rolling to his side and pulling her against him, her back to his chest. He buried his face in her hair, his arm a heavy, comforting anchor across her stomach.“Taylor?” His voice was thick with near-sleep.
“Hmm?”
“I really am winging it.All of it.”
She smiled in the dark, placing her hand over his. “Just don’t let go.”
His arm tightened around her. He didn’t promise he wouldn’t.He just held on.Outside, a car door slammed, the sound distant and unimportant. Here, in the moonlit debris of their celebration, the rest of their lives felt both terrifyingly vast and as simple as the next breath. The momentum of the day carried them forward, even in stillness, into the unknown dark.