“Really? Because I missed you like crazy.”
He placed a soft kiss on her lips.
“How are you handling celebrity status at work? I heard all the rumors.”
“Everyone is interested, naturally. You swept me off my feet and took me to your castle. The world loves a good Cinderella story, after all.”
“Wrong fairy tale. You’re more like Snow White. Because you’re trying to take down the Wicked Queen.”
“We let the Cinderella fairytale play out, but secretly, we play out the Snow White one.”
“Sounds like a plan, love.”
“Some claim behind my back that I married you for your money, and that I’m a gold-digger, but little do they know that I did it to save this company and their jobs, and to help you. And I can’t say a darn thing to defend myself.”
“No, please don’t say or hint to anything that will expose us. It’ll ruin everything we worked so hard for.”
“So that’s why we’ll let them stick with the Cinderella version. Prince Charming came and we rode off into the sunset happily ever after.” She met his gaze. “So how is everything with you?”
“I took a good amount of ribbing about seizing a bride to get my inheritance, but when I show our detractors your picture, they shut right up. So I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for being gorgeous. It removes a great deal of doubt in the minds of those who would question the authenticity of our union .”
“Well, the money was, in all fairness, your reason for agreeing to marry me. I like to think there are other perks.”
“You think rightly. There are definitely benefits to being your husband. For example, I didn’t have to sit through an abysmal dessert at Lena’s.”
“Is that all?”
“I also quite like it when you bite my lip,” Brandon said archly.
“Do you want to go to the ballet or not? Because if you keep looking at me like that, we’ll be making our excuses.”
Marj crossed the room, the lace of her dress whispering against her bare thighs as she hurried to reach him. Rising on tiptoe, she caught his lower lip between hers, grazing it with her teeth, her eyes locked on his. He took her by the waist, parted her lips with his and stroked his tongue into her mouth. Brandon gathered her full skirt up, reached beneath it to trail his hands along her bottom, cupping her nearly bare ass and stroking it. Her thong concealed little, but enough to interfere with his plans.
“When you bite my lip it drives me wild,” he said hoarsely against her throat.
His fingers feathered between her legs, teasing her thighs and the warmth at their juncture. He could already feel her dampness, the arousal that awaited him. She had mentioned being late to the ballet. He didn’t care about the ballet. He wanted Marj, wanted his wife this instant.
The way Brandon’s hands went between her legs almost immediately, Marj expected a hasty coupling, swift and fierce. So she was shocked when he reached for the zipper at the back of her neck and slid it down with aching slowness that made her pulse stutter in anticipation of what was to come. He lowered the lace sleeves from her shoulders, kissing the curve of her neck and her collarbone.
She stepped out of the dress and he tossed it onto a chair, leaving her in her creamy white thong and strapless push-up bra—both new additions to her wardrobe, and ones she was particularly glad to have just now. He licked his lips when he looked at her, as if he was about to feast on her. She gave a sly smile, not bashful at all, and untied his bow tie.
“I hope you know how to tie that back. It took me ten minutes,” he said.
Marj drew the black strip of fabric between her hands suggestively.
“I can’t tie a bowtie, but I have other uses for it if you like,” she said.
“I would, but we have the opening night to attend.”
“How serious are you about making it there on time?”
“Not very serious, as it turns out. It was going to be our debut as a married couple, written up all over Page Six with photos in full color. We’ll…get there eventually,” he said, a little breathless as she unbuttoned his shirt.
Brandon brought his face to her ample cleavage and flicked his tongue along the swell of her breast. She gave an appreciative sound and pushed his shirt off his arms and onto the floor in a heap. Trailing her fingers down his chest, she traced the cut lines of his abs, the trail that started at his navel and disappeared into his pants. She rid him of those in no time, and he lifted her onto the high four-poster bed.
“I’m glad we had the same idea,” he said appreciatively.
“It’s been one hell of a long week, Cates. A woman has needs,” she told him decisively.