Susan Fox - An Arranged Marriage

But it was her beautiful face that set it all off. Framed by curls and wispy gold ringlets, her face was flushed. Her eyes were nearly as vividly blue as his own, but wider, more innocent, kinder—though right now it would have been hard to miss the worry in them. Or the feminine interest. In the end, though, it was her lips that drew him: lush and sweet looking and almost cherry red.

The memory of how soft and crushable they’d felt, even though their wedding kiss had been bloodless and cool, burst in him like a craving. It took everything he had to keep from rushing her, to keep from grabbing her and devouring her as if she were a choice sweet.

Instead he moved slowly toward her, then stopped when his booted toes touched the belled hem of her dress.

His low “I’ll help you with the dress” made the color in her cheeks go higher. He didn’t realize until he felt the stiff netting between his fingers that he’d reached out to catch a pinch of her veil.

Allison could barely move, though her brain was struggling to save her. She couldn’t possibly let Blue help her remove her dress. She wasn’t ready for that kind—for any kind—of intimacy. “A-Aunt Pet wanted—”

“Aunt Pet’s takin’ care of other things,” he drawled as he lightly rolled the delicate netting between his thumb and fingers.

Allison tried again. “I need—”

“I’m your family now, Miz Allis,” he said in a low voice that carried an edge of command. “From here on out, you’re to look to me for the things she’s always done for you.”

She was so shocked by the order that it took her a moment to recover. Blue took advantage of that moment as he released the bit of veil, then reached for the headpiece that was still pinned to her hair.

The feel of his fingers gently searching for hairpins sent a warm flood of pleasure from her head to her toes, scattering her objection to his edict. Gently, one by one, he found every pin, tossing each to the polished top of the dresser. He removed the headpiece and set it aside on the dresser, leaving the sheer veil to cascade off the front of the dark wood like a white waterfall.

He stepped around her and she bit her lip to repress the flurry of shivers that began when he started on the tiny pearl buttons at the back of her gown. One after another, lower and lower he went, steadily releasing the buttons, his warm fingers grazing her bare back as he went. Allison had never imagined that anything so simple could be so arousing, but with every tug of fabric, every gentle brush of his strong, hard fingers, a spark ignited in her. Considering the number of buttons—perhaps fifty or more—by the time he reached the very end, Allison felt a conflagration building.

Just when she thought this was the end, that Blue would leave her to undress in private, he placed his hands on her bare back. The heat of his callused palms scorched her and left her incapable of moving. She caught her breath when they pushed aside her open dress back, then slipped gently beneath the fabric.

The next thing she knew, he’d slid the gown off her shoulders. The neckline fell softly to her waist, exposing the bodice of her slip and the bra she wore beneath. Alarmed at being exposed—he could see her reflection in the dresser mirror—Allison clutched the front of the gown and tried to cover herself.

Blue’s fingers caught the beaded fabric and prevented her from doing so. She felt a soft gust of breath on her bare skin, followed by the shocking feel of his mouth on the back of her neck.

He released the fabric and let his palms trail down to her waist and slip beneath the gown. He pulled her back against him while his lips moved almost hungrily along her neck and to her ear, where he kissed and bit and nibbled until her knees gave way.

For the next several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the sounds of ragged breathing and of satin, beads and lace brushing against fine black cloth. The wedding dress ended up in a poofed circle at their feet. Sometime during those moments, he turned her toward him, and his mouth found hers for a long, hot kiss. Later, his mouth moved off hers, found her throat, then went on an erotic tour that ended torturously short of the nipple his questing fingers had uncovered.

As if he’d meant all along to arouse her to nearly the point of pain—and leave unfulfilled the ache to feel his lips on her breast—Blue eased her slowly away from him.

Allison could barely stand. She was too weak to keep her grip on his sleeves. The erotic haze that had burned away all her reason and all her inhibitions began to slowly lift. Her ability to stand on her own came back in the same proportions and she opened her eyes to look up at Blue.

It soothed her ego to see that his face was a mask of the same arousal she felt. But an iron control that she was too inexperienced to have developed was also there. She could see it in his eyes. She could see it, but she wasn’t certain how she felt about it. Her reaction was equal parts relief and frustrated anger.

How dare he toy with her, bring her to such heights, then switch himself off—switch her off—and leave her with a wild hunger she’d never suspected could exist?

Yet, how grateful she was that he’d stopped! The confusing whirl of frustration and relief and ebbing desire kept her silent, kept her standing long after he turned from her and left the room.

The long limo ride to Dallas was quiet. Blue had withdrawn from her, though they sat together in the center of the wide back seat. They didn’t speak, and the silence weighed on Allison.

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