“Selene, I’ve been taking it in since the second you walked into that restaurant.”
He gently pulled my drink from my hand and sat it down. He came back and stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tip my chin up to meet his eyes. Close enough that his heat pressed through every inch of space between us.
His fingers brushed my jaw first, then traced down the side of my neck, slow, reverent. He reached behind me, fingertips grazing the zipper of my reception dress where it dipped low against my spine. I felt the question before he voiced it.
“Let me?”
A quiet request that sounded nothing like surrender and everything like ownership offered, not taken.
I nodded.
He slid the zipper down with agonizing slowness, the fabric loosening around me like falling petals. His knuckles grazed each vertebra as he descended, each touch a spark.
“Gorgeous…” His voice brushed my ear. “Look at you.”
I did in the glass reflection.
Black lace, bare skin, the Kostas bride reflected back like a sin waiting to be confessed. I felt the last of my dress slip to the floor, pooling around my feet like an offering neither of us intended to pick up again.
The room glowed gold around us, soft lights tangled in white flowers above the bed. Everything looked unreal. Or maybe it was just the way he was looking at me. His hands framed my waist, fingers splayed, thumbs brushing the lace at my ribs as if learning the pattern by touch.
“You don’t know,” he murmured against my skin, “how long I’ve imagined this. You—standing in front of me like this.”
His thumb brushed my lower lip; I leaned into his touch without hesitation. His mouth claimed mine with deliberate slowness that gradually deepened into something consuming. My knees weakened beneath me as I clutched at his vest for stability. his hand traveling up the bare skin of my back while the other secured my hip, eliminating any space between us. The contact sent liquid fire coursing through my veins.
"Selene," he breathed against my mouth, "I can feel you trembling."
"No," I denied softly.
He smiled knowingly and pressed his forehead to mine, our breathing synchronizing in the narrow space between us.
“I want you to remember this night,” he said softly. “All of it. Not because it’s a Dominion tradition, because it’s ours.”
His fingers brushed the clasp of my garter belt, dragging lightly along the strap, sending a shiver up my spine.
“Come here,” he said, guiding me backward toward the bed—slow, deliberate, giving me time, giving me room to breathe. At the edge of the bed, he stopped, lifting my chin so I’d meet his eyes.
“No running away tonight,” he murmured. “You’re mine, Selene.”
My voice barely made it out. “And you’re mine.”
His expression shifted. He lowered his head and kissed me again before finally removing the rest of his clothes.
Alaric stripped like a man who enjoyed being watched—slow, deliberate, every movement intentional. The vest went first, sliding off his shoulders as he kept his eyes on me. That was followed by one silver clasp at a time.
He moved closer and his fingers hooked into the knot of his tie, loosening it with a practiced pull before tossing it aside. His fingers went to the first button of his shirt. One. Then the next. Each one undone with a patience that made me want to either claw at him or beg. The fabric slid from his shoulders, falling to the floor like it knew better than to stay between us.
I’d seen him shirtless before. Dozens of times. Pressed beneath his mouth, riding his thigh, or kneeling between his legs with his hand fisted in my hair while he groaned my name.
I knew exactly how he liked his cock sucked, slow at first, with one hand at the base and my tongue circling the underside until his grip tightened and he muttered Greek into my hair. I knew how his mouth felt between my thighs, how his fingers worked me open until I was shaking.
But sex, that line he never breached.
I knew he wanted me; he’d never hidden that fact from the moment we started shared a bed and toeing every other line possible. It was the Dominion, the tradition, the need to keep his bride untouched until the wedding night that held him barely in check. A reputation thing on my behalf.
Tonight was different.
This was the first time I looked at him as his wife.