sweet lips one more time before heading for the door to their suite. He’d secretly placed an order for the hotel’s finest meal, for them to enjoy in the privacy of their suite.
Only the best for Bree. Not because she was an heiress and accustomed to it anyway, but because he truly did want to cherish her, and to see that pretty face light with its familiar glowing smile.
“I’d just assumed we’d go out.” Bree glanced at the door.
“On our wedding night? I prefer privacy.” He shot her a teasing glance.
The waiter wheeled in a cart laden with pretty Mediterranean pottery, then congratulated them and left. Bree lifted the lid of the first dish to reveal a rush of steam and the tempting scent of delicate hors d’oeuvres, two of each, an array of tiny pastries and bite-sized morsels.
He fed them to Bree, and she returned the favor, both of them laughing. When had he ever done anything this simple—this silly—with a woman, and had such a great time?
Never. That’s when.
Bree’s easy, drama-free approach to life was so refreshing. Even if one million big ones weren’t currently winging their way into his bank account, he’d be very pleased with his choice of a life partner.
The soup was creamy vichyssoise sprinkled with fresh chives. Tender steak tips, baby vegetables and new potatoes in a rich gravy made a satisfying main course, and he was sure he couldn’t eat another thing until they uncovered the desserts—tiny éclairs and profiteroles, delicate tarts and hand-decorated cakes. He licked cream off Bree’s lips and toasted their marriage with a glass of Moet.
“I think we should retire to the bedroom.” He picked up the champagne and their two glasses. “We’ll be more comfortable there.”
He waited while she stood, looking radiant, glowing like a movie star in her wedding finery. So different from the quiet, almost apologetic woman he’d met that first night at the gala. She’d blossomed magnificently since he met her. Eyes darted toward her wherever they went, taking in her statuesque beauty, and she looked quite comfortable and assured under the gaze of all those envious males.
The bed was turned down, fresh white sheets gleaming in the soft light. Bree settled herself gingerly on the edge and accepted the offered glass of champagne.
Gavin sat down next to her and pulled a pearl-tipped pin from her chignon. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.”
She giggled. “Wouldn’t it be a shame to undo all the hairdresser’s hard work?”
“But I can’t run my hands through your tresses when they’re all piled up on your head.” He pulled out another pin, this one with a spray of baby pearls around a tiny diamond. A single coiled ringlet tumbled free.
Bree tugged gently at one end of his bow tie. It slid apart and she pulled the black silk loose from his collar. “Two can play at that game.” Her green eyes glittered, pupils wide and dark.
The flame of desire burning deep inside Gavin all day roared through his muscles. But he kept his cool and slowly pulled another pin from Bree’s shiny updo. A thick lock of luscious dark hair fell to her shoulder.
Bree reached for the button on his collar and pulled it loose. She undid the next one and ran a cool finger along his chest between his pecs.
Arousal snapped inside him. He lifted the fallen lock of hair and found the delicate shoulder strap of her dress. Pushing it aside, he kissed her shoulder and neck, inhaling the rich scent of her and burying his face in her hair. “Bree, you drive me crazy.”
“Crazy enough to make you marry me, apparently.”
“I’m the luckiest man alive.” He found the zipper on the side of her dress and tugged it down gently. “To have the woman of my dreams right here in my arms.”
Or in his hands. He let them roam, shameless and hungry for the touch of her after a day of restraint. His palms cupped her full, heavy breasts, sending desire pounding through him like a drumbeat. He slid his hands to her hips, to enjoy the lush curves draped in seductive satin. Breathing ragged, he pressed a hot kiss to her mouth.
Bree pushed herself against him, breasts crushing against his chest, her hands tangling under his jacket. “Your clothes are in the way,” she gasped, when they broke for air.
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