I see Kate in my peripheral vision approach my mum and take her arm. “Come on, Elizabeth. Just a few minutes won’t hurt.”
“It’s tradition!” she argues, but still lets Kate lead her out. I smile. There is nothing traditional about my relationship with Jesse. “What’s that bruise on his chest?” I hear my mother ask as she’s pushed from the room.
The door closes, and we maintain our deep eye connection, neither one of us saying anything for the longest time. I just drink him in, every finely tuned muscle, every perfect inch of pure beauty.
He finally speaks. “I don’t want to take my eyes away from your face.”
“No?”
He shakes his head mildly. “There’ll be lace if I do, won’t there?”
I nod.
“White lace?”
“Ivory.”
His chest expands slightly. This could be dangerous for my hair, makeup, and underwear if those eyes stray from my face. It could also be dangerous for our strict time schedule. I’m expecting Tessa up here at any moment to check that I’m ready before she hits me with how many steps it is to the summer room and how long it should take me to get there.
He blinks a few times, and I know he’ll never resist a peek; he’d just better control himself, and I’d better control myself, too. It’s hard. Sweat beads are trailing down his temple, across his neck, and onto his solid chest, before shimmering as they travel the waves of his stomach and disperse in the waistband of his shorts. I shift as his eyes break from mine and lazily drag down my body, his chest heaving more severely as his gaze makes its journey. I’m bombarded with tingles.
I make my move before he does, walking slowly across the room and stopping close to his sweat-coated body. Then I flick my gaze up to his lush lips. His breathing escalates.
“You’ve just trampled my mother.” I try to hide the lust in my voice, but fail miserably.
“She was in my way,” he says quietly, breathing down on me.
“This is bad luck. You’re not supposed to see me before our wedding.”
“Stop me.” His head dips so his lips brush over mine gently, but he doesn’t touch my body. “I’ve missed you.”
“It’s been twelve hours.”
“Too long.” He runs his tongue slowly across my bottom lip, enticing a quiet moan from me. I’m instantly fighting the natural instinct to grab his big shoulders. “You’ve had a drink.”
“Just a sip.” He’s like a bloodhound. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“You can’t look like this and say things like that, Ava.” His lips push to mine, his tongue seeking entry, encouraging my lips to part and accept him into my mouth. The hot warmth of him dispels my nerves; everything is forgotten as he claims me, but still keeps his hands to himself. Our sweeping tongues are the only contact between us, but it’s as consuming as ever. My senses are saturated, my mind scrambled, and my body begging for him. But he just maintains the slow, fluid movements of his tongue, withdrawing occasionally to tease my lips, before plunging back into my mouth. I hum at his exquisite pace, the inevitable bang dropping between my thighs as he worships me delicately.
“Jesse, we’re going to be late for our wedding.” I need to halt this before one of us takes it to the next level. It might be me.
“Don’t tell me to stop kissing you, Ava.” He bites my bottom lip and drags it slowly through his teeth. “Never tell me to stop kissing you.” He lowers himself to his knees and takes my hands, pulling me down. I kick my shoes off and join him. He watches his thumbs circling over the tops of my hands for a while before lifting his glorious greens to find my eyes. “Are you ready to do this?”
I frown. “Are you asking me if I still want to marry you?”
His lips tip a little. “No, you don’t get a choice. I’m just asking if you’re ready.”
I struggle to stop my own small smile at his candidness. “And what if I say no?”
“You won’t.”
“Then why ask?”
His lips turn into a shy smile, and he shrugs. “You’re nervous. I don’t want you to be nervous.”
“I’m nervous because of where I’m getting married.”
His smile falls away. “Ava, everything has been taken care of. I said not to worry so you shouldn’t. End of.”
“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this.” I drop my head, feeling a little guilty for doubting he’d keep his word. I know exactly why we’re marrying at The Manor. No waiting list. No other bookings to work around. It’s where he could get me down the aisle without delay.