A shudder ran through her as she came, his name falling from her lips over and over. As she floated back down he pressed his cheek to her belly, and she ran her fingers through his hair.
"You're so very good at that," she said, the fog of climax blending her words together.
Her skin was smooth against him, her warmth fueling his desire. He pushed up onto his hands and hovered over her. A smile pulled at her lips, her eyes heavy-lidded. Sooty lashes touched as she blinked and he drank it all in, committing every curve, every line, every plane to his memory.
"Are you just going to stare at me?" she asked with a husky laugh.
"For starters." He ran a palm over her ribcage and caught the weight of her breast in one hand, smoothing his thumb over her nipple.
She hummed in pleasure. "And then?"
"Everything." He came down onto her, resting on one arm so he could brush the hair from her face with his free hand. "I want every moan, every shudder, every orgasm I can possibly get from you."
"Greedy." She kissed his shoulder.
"I am when it comes to you." The weight of his words should have driven him away but instead it seemed to suck the air from between them until there was nothing but skin on skin, their hearts aligned.
When he pushed inside her the whole world slipped away. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled back until he was sitting upright and she straddled him. Her hips moved up and down, the rhythm perfectly matched as he slanted his mouth over hers. She tasted sweet and warm and familiar. Like home. Like everything he'd once wanted.
"I don't regret this," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "I don't regret being with you."
"Me neither, Tiger." He stroked her face with one hand and ran a thumb along her lower lip.
He reached down between them and found her sweet spot, feeling the tremors run through her as he stroked, intent on having her come around him. She tightened, her forehead dropping down to his shoulder, allowing him to fully support her.
"Paul, I … " she gasped. "I … "
"Let it happen." He kissed her forehead, her cheekbone, her temple. "Let me feel you."
Her teeth sank into his shoulder and she muffled the sharp cry of release as she tipped over. He buried himself deep inside her and lost himself to the sensation of her pleasure, giving up control to feel her as he came.
His arms were wrapped around her so tightly that no air could pass between them. They were fused together, her body wrapped around his, heels digging into his back. He cradled her as he lowered them back to the mattress, her hands never letting go.
The words from his speech came echoing back to him. He questioned everything with Libby curled in his arms, and his sanity was high on that list.
Libby woke the next morning to the gentle pressure of lips on her skin. Exhausted from a night of too much pleasure and too little sleep, she tried unsuccessfully to clear the fog away.
"Don't get up," Paul said as he stroked the hair out of her face. "I have to go, but you don't need to get down there for another few hours. Order room service and stay in bed."
She smiled, blinking to bring his face into focus. "I wish you could stay."
"You won't be thinking that when you starfish on that bed." His lips brushed against hers.
He'd already changed into his tux, and he smelled of soap and cologne. Combined with his olive skin and dark hair, he looked as though he'd stepped from a magazine ad. But the hunger in her eyes reminded her that he wasn't just a handsome face; he was a protective, caring, passionate man whom she'd fallen in love with.
Her heart thumped as the words swirled in her mind. Love? Did she really love Paul?
"You need some rest. I think I wore you out last night." He chuckled and looked around for his phone, slipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
"We wore each other out." She pulled the covers up to her chin, as though a few layers of cotton could protect her from the weight of her realization.
"Very true. I've got to go, but I'm looking forward to seeing you in that black dress." He leaned against the door as though he didn't want to leave.
"Are you looking forward to getting me out of it?" The thought left her breathless and, despite the fact that they'd made love not a few hours before, her body already ached for him again.
She'd become addicted to him, his touch inciting a hunger and craving that was totally new to her. But it wasn't only about sexual fulfilment … he made her whole. All the doubts and insecurities her family had fostered in her vanished when he was there. He filled the grooves in her soul, soothed her wounds, smoothed out the rough parts of her.
The end had come too soon, and she didn't want it to be over. Ever.
"Do you need to ask me that?" He waggled his brows and opened the door, hovering for a moment before leaving her alone.
Libby stared up at the ceiling, her eyes refusing to focus. Her body still tingled with the memory of his hands and lips on her, as though he'd tattooed the feeling onto her skin.
As she raised her hand to cover her face she noticed the band of diamonds on her ring finger. She'd forgotten to take it off before she went to bed, and now the diamonds glistened like tears catching sunlight.
What happened to avoiding relationships? Did she really want to put herself out there and risk the shame and rejection that had plagued her for her entire twenty-five years?
Yes.
Her mind may try to argue, but her heart spoke the truth. It sang the word from the deepest part of her soul.
She loved Paul Chapman, her fake boyfriend turned fake fiancé. All she had to do was tell him … and hope that what they'd shared hadn't all been in her head. She couldn't have imagined the looks he gave her during the speech last night, nor the way he seemed drawn to her the way she was drawn to him.
The black dress hung from the wardrobe door, a silent challenge. It would be easy to stay warm and cozy inside her comfort zone, but there was nothing there for her anymore. She'd taken a risk starting Libby Gal Cocktails, and it was starting to pay off. Perhaps if she took that same risk on love she'd find happiness there, too.
Libby sat up and swung her legs out of the bed. Today would be the day she let her heart do the talking, and she'd have an answer one way or another.
By the time the reception was due to start Paul had decided that perhaps weddings weren't so bad. His mother had turned into a weepy mess in the room where the family had a quiet breakfast, but everything else had been fairly painless.
Paul, Des, and Noah had shared a celebratory Scotch with his father in the dressing room. Despite his outwardly confident demeanor, Paul knew his brother was anxious for the proceedings to kick off.
The chapel had been decorated, and the boys stood in their places in front of the neat rows of pews that would soon be filled with family and friends. Music floated through the air as people filtered in, sorting themselves on either the bride or groom's side.
"You ready?" Paul asked, though he'd never seen anyone so ready to get married before.
"One hundred percent." Des grinned. "I wish Mum would stop the water works, though."
"Not going to happen." Noah shook his head. "Not a hope in hell."
Paul chuckled and adjusted his cuffs. "She's already naming her grandchildren, you know that, right?"
"Hopefully she won't have to wait too long." Des clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the chapel. "Then it's your turn."
"We're focusing on you today," Paul reminded him.
"I'm happy for you. You deserve it."
Paul swallowed and pretended to fix a cufflink. Did he, really? Libby was this incredible creature, creative, a risk taker. She blew him away every time they made love.
Made love.
He hadn't thought about sex in such a way since … forever. The collar on his shirt felt too tight, like hands closing in on his windpipe. He bounced on the balls of his feet and kept his eyes straight ahead.
Then Libby walked through the door, and the rest of the room fell away. Black fabric swished against her skin, the modest hem length and sleeves contrasted by the flash of bare back she exposed when she turned to greet the usher and grab a copy of the program.
Red hair gleamed as it tumbled over one shoulder, tied loosely with a black ribbon. She caught his eye and broke into a bright smile. Following the line of people heading down the aisle she slipped into a pew on the groom's side.
How would he pay attention during the ceremony with her sitting right there?
"Paul?" Des tapped him on the shoulder. "I asked if you had the rings. Don't freak me out, man."
"Right here." He patted his breast pocket. "I wouldn't forget the most important part of the show."
"Second most important," Des said, turning to look down the aisle as the organ music started.