In a froth of ivory lace and tulle, Giada Trent—no, now Mrs. Ian Sheridan—bounced on her back in the middle of the bed where her new husband had tossed her. Her cheeks ached from hours of nonstop smiling and laughter. And she was giddy, not only with happiness, but also from the countless kisses she’d shared with her indulgent groom, spurred on by the relentless clink of silverware against champagne flutes throughout the formal supper and countless toasts. What was more, in a nod to Ian’s heritage, some thoughtful member of the wedding party had placed traditional Irish wedding bells throughout the venue, which jingled when the crystal glasses did not as their guests clamored for even more kisses, a demand that Ian had felt compelled to indulge.
About the tenth time the chimes had resounded over the banquet hall, he’d whispered against her lips that they’d gotten it wrong, the custom was actually meant to scare away evil spirits. As the caress of his mouth set her body tingling with desire, she had to admit a liking for the nontraditional purpose more.
The day had been perfect in every way. Sunny and warm, which for May in southeastern Michigan was hardly a given. The setting with its terrace and flowering garden was beautiful, the luxurious Westin and its efficient staff helping her highly recommended wedding planner pull everything off without a hitch. Five hundred in all attended to celebrate with them: family, both local and out of town, and a good number of the bride’s relatives who had flown in from Italy. The guests also included countless friends, city officials, and the lieutenant governor, as well as numerous other business associates of her father. The food was delicious, the champagne abundant, and the music divine.
And she’d danced, another reason for her shortness of breath. She’d always felt like she had two left feet, but her new husband had made her look like Ginger Rogers to his Fred Astaire as he’d skillfully twirled and dipped her to song after song. And now, close to midnight, as the culmination of the happiest day of her life drew near, her breathlessness could also be blamed on anticipation, or the peals of laughter she’d let loose at the door a few moments ago, when Ian had scooped her into his arms and gallantly carried her over the threshold into their honeymoon suite.
Who would have guessed that a starched, white-shirt-wearing, business-law-spouting, corporate attorney could be so romantic?
As she flopped back on the plush pillows, she watched with appreciative eyes as her husband—would she ever get used to thinking of him that way?—shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and tossed it toward a chair in the corner. In his haste, he missed, which made her giggle and him grin broadly. He unbuttoned his collar and cuffs, the silver and onyx studs pinging and skittering across the floor as one by one he popped out the studs down the front placket of his linen shirt. Giada thought she would swallow her tongue at the sight of his muscular chest and broad shoulders as he dragged his shirt over his head and down his rippling, bunching biceps. Then, before she could breathe, he dove onto the bed on top of her and almost disappeared in a cloud of lace with dozens upon dozens of hand-stitched seed pearls as her full skirt seemed to swallow him whole. This spurred another gale of effusive laughter in her obviously inebriated state.
Propping himself on an elbow, Ian brushed the loose curls back from her face. She’d left her hair down because he liked it that way, falling in thick, soft waves around her shoulders and halfway down her back. Her efforts were rewarded by the approval in his eyes and the way his lips tipped up in that oh-so sexy smile that made her heart skip a beat. As his gaze seemed to catalog every nuance of her flushed face, he ran the edge of his thumb along her cheek. “Exactly how much champagne did you have, Mrs. Sheridan?”
She sighed happily. “I love the sound of that.”
“Giada Sheridan does indeed have a nice ring to it,” he murmured, as he lowered his face close to hers. His fingers threaded into her hair as he began trailing warm kisses from her temple, along the delicate shell of her ear, then traversing her jaw, until he reached her mouth, where he lightly kissed one upturned corner. “You’re not too tipsy to remember the consummation of our marriage vows come morning, are you, baby?”
“I’m smashed,” she admitted with a giggle, “but I’m not likely to forget one second of the most glorious night of my life.” Lifting her hand, she rested it alongside his cheek, noting the contrast of her olive skin with his much lighter tone. Though kissed as it was with a hint of a tan from rounds of golf with his clients on several fair weather early spring days, Ian could not deny the Irish in his veins. Not when it came to his fair complexion, or the auburn strands that appeared in his thick brown hair in the right light, or the Celtic silver-gray shimmer in his arresting blue eyes. Although he wasn’t Italian as her mother had hoped, he was smart, confident, successful, and absolutely gorgeous, and he loved her, which was all that Giada cared about.
“You better not forget,” he warned softly as he slipped a finger beneath the strap of her gown and eased it off her shoulder, “because the best is yet to come. Did I tell you how beautiful you are today?”
Smiling at his praise, she closed her eyes, feeling every nerve ending in her body tingle with excitement as his lips slid along her arched neck and over her collarbone. Angling her head away, she bared the bend of her neck for more of his attention as she whispered, “A time or two, though I don’t mind you being repetitive.”
“Never has there been a more beautiful bride. And this dress, damn, sweetheart, it was like I was marrying two women: an angel walking toward me in beaded lace, then when you turned and I saw the dress had no back, and that it hugged your spectacular round ass like a second skin, I decided you were a seductress sent to tempt me. My dick got hard right there in the sanctuary.”
“It’s true, and your delectable bottom is to blame. I worried that my sainted grandmother would see her favorite grandson with a hard-on and faint dead away, right after she made the sign of the cross, said ten Hail Marys, and prayed for my mortal soul, of course.”
A half-laugh, half-groan slipped from between her lips, both from the image his words created of him aroused by the sight of her, and the soft brush of his breath against her sensitized skin. Her fingers curled into his shoulders as she tried to hold on.
“Honey,” she breathed, barely able to string words together as his tongue licked a hot trail up the line of her throat. “Your sainted grandmother had eight children. I think she knows how babies are made. I doubt if she would have been shocked at all, more like she would have applauded that you were up to the challenge of continuing the Sheridan name.”
His head popped up and he grimaced down at her. “Let’s not talk about my grandmother and procreation in the same sentence, especially on our wedding night. It will put me off my game and the result will be less of the wild, hot, memorable event I intended.” He shuddered dramatically. “Nana making babies. No. Bad images, go away.”
Giada giggled again and Ian’s smile reappeared. “As much as I really love this dress, gorgeous, it’s in my way and needs to come off. Now.”
Alpha to the core, Ian exuded confidence and authority in all that he did, and though he respected her as a partner everywhere else, in the bedroom he was in control; setting the scene, controlling the play, and most of all, dominating her. And though it was in direct opposition of who she was to the rest of the world—the tough as nails, power suit wearing, take no shit from anyone executive vice president of operations for Trent Industries—she reveled in it. In fact, after suffering through the heartbreak of several failed relationships, she had been ready to give up on dating and men altogether. The worries about how to act, what to say, and how to approach all those firsts, like the first kiss, the first touch, and sleeping together that first time had all stressed her out. And because she’d been hurt, the trust factor, or lack thereof was always hanging like a dark cloud in the background.
Ian had been different. Charming and self-assured without being an arrogant jerk, he had calmly and gently taken the reins from the start. And when they went to bed that first time, from the get-go, he called the shots. It was a relief that she didn’t have to worry, or be in charge, or make the decisions of how, when, and where, or carry the burden of success or failure on her shoulders. And best of all, not only did his taking control turn her on, Ian ended up being the most skilled, exciting, and seriously hot lover she’d ever had.
Having his avid attention focused solely on her made her breath catch and her pulse quicken. Like now, as he eased down the straps of her ivory lace gown and bared her breasts to his hungry gaze. Her nipples popped free of the descending sweetheart neckline, as if begging for his lips and the exhilarating nip of his teeth. A rush of wetness gathered in the hollow between her thighs. His hands on her body and the brush of his warm breath sent goosebumps dancing along her skin and currents of desire rushing with a jolt to all of her nerve endings. Then, when he at last claimed one stiff peak, she clung to him, her body bowing off the bed as she offered all of herself.
Only in his strong arms did she feel safe enough to completely let go, to lower her guard and allow the real Giada to emerge. This was her vulnerable side that she kept concealed and protected, the soft underbelly, the gentle soul, eager to please, and surprisingly submissive. Ian seemed to recognize this need in her, one that matched his own to take control and dominate, but it began and ended at their bedroom door.
As a senior vice president at her family’s company, and a woman to boot, she couldn’t show a hint of weakness or subservience to anyone, least of all a man, or she’d be eaten alive. Yet when the doors were closed and it was only the two of them, she had no problem with Ian telling her what to do, smacking her bottom playfully, or not so much so in the heat of passion, and it was hot when he pinned her hands to the bed as he drove into her until she screamed with pleasure. She loved it, craved it, as did he. And though she’d been embarrassed by how much it aroused her at first, he’d been reassuring, never teasing or belittling her for her rather kinky desires.
And she was ready to give into those desires again, as Ian continued to relieve her of her designer gown, now lowered to her waist, the straps effectively pinning her arms to her sides.
“Christ, Gi, you’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured as he stared down at her, seemingly mesmerized by the bounty before him. Then he dipped his head and slowly circled one nipple with the tip of his tongue. She moaned, arching more, wordlessly asking for all he wanted to give her. Ian was in a playful mood and rather than taking her into his mouth and suckling as she yearned for him to do, he puckered up and blew a warm current of soft air across her dampened skin. Her already peaked nipples hardened further, contracting almost painfully.
“Ian, please, don’t tease me. I want you too bad.”
He didn’t speed up; instead he continued his slow torment by kissing his way down the inner curve of her breast, across the valley, and up the other trembling mound to lick around the other tip, the same as he’d done to the first. This time, after wetting it so that it glistened, he took the hard point between his teeth and tugged gently until she groaned his name.
“I won’t be rushed. We only have one wedding night and I intend to make it last,” he said as he lifted his head and lightly dragged his chin, with its rough twelve-hour stubble, across the sensitive peak.
“Your intent is to torture your new wife,” she replied in a half whimper, only a few more licks or chin glides away from panting.
“Yeah, that too,” he chuckled, then surprised her by opening wide and drawing hungrily on the hard peak, but drat him, it lasted much too briefly.
As he pulled away, she whimpered in protest, then gave a little yelp when with easy strength, he flipped her onto her belly. The short zipper at the small of her back gave way under his insistent tug and he slid her dress over her hips and down her legs. This left her in skimpy white lace-edged panties and the thigh-high stand-up stockings with the wide band of matching lace around each thigh. She wondered what he thought of the small satin bows adorning the back of each thigh and the top of her butt, also in white, but didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“Damn,” he growled. “It’s like Christmas morning. And you’re messing with my plan to go slow and savor every minute.”
“I’m not sorry,” she said, angling her head and meeting his heated look over her shoulder. “If you ditch your plan because you lose control, it’s all good for me.”
His fingers slid up the backs of her thighs and over the curves just above them. With palms large enough to encompass almost all of her cheeks, he began kneading her panty-covered bottom as he leaned down and spread kisses along the small of her back, right above one of the bows. This went on until her pussy was drenched with eagerness.
“Ian, please, hurry.”
“Sh, baby, there’s no need to rush. We have all night.”
“I won’t make it that long.”
“Try for me.”
He continued to tease and push her to the brink, then at long last, his thumbs dipped into the waistband of her panties and he lowered the stretchy material, not in the swift tug she’d expected, but instead, peeling them down slowly, bit by excruciating bit until they rested below her bottom. His mouth returned and moved over her bare cheeks, opening as he gave her slow, hot licks with his teasing tongue and little nibbles with his teeth as he squeezed and molded the globes in his hands.
Giada was nearly out of her head with desire and raised her ass, seeking more. She would have spread her legs in blatant invitation, but her thighs were bound together by her own panties.
“Take me, please, Ian,” she begged, as she writhed on the bed beneath him.
His teeth sank firmly into the fleshy part of one cheek as he brought his open palm down with a resounding smack on the other. “Who’s in charge here, Giada? You or me?”
“You, but please, you’re driving me insane.”
“I’ve heard a lot of insanity pleas in my day, gorgeous, though never by means of delayed orgasm. I decide when and how you come, and you’ll enjoy every fucking minute of it.”
She groaned as his thumbs dipped between her thighs and separated her smooth lips, and when his hot tongue dove inside and lapped her clit for a moment, before moving up to circle her weeping opening, those groans became a keening cry of need.
“You’re sweeter than the icing on our six-tier cake and more intoxicating than the Dom Perignon.” He gave her one more long thorough lick, ending with a flick on her pulsing bud, then sat back on his heels. Giving her behind a little pat, he ordered, “Up on your hands and knees, and spread for me. I plan to gorge myself on your sweet pussy until I get my fill.”
Impatient, he helped her along by lifting her hips as she scrambled to get in position. When her legs wouldn’t part further, hampered as they were by the panties still tight around her thighs, he whisked them down and off her feet. He was back between her legs in a second, his thumbs parting her as with tongue, lips, and teeth, he devoured every inch of her intimate flesh. Ian sucked on her clit until she screamed his name, but before she could come, he moved up to rim the clenching opening of her weeping channel, licking around and around, spearing inside and penetrating deeply. The vibration from his hum of approval nearly set her off as he consumed her, gorging himself as promised.
Again, when her climax was within reach, he shifted, sliding higher until his tongue found the puckered hole that he had yet to claim. In the past, he’d used his tongue, fingers, and small plugs on her, much to her delight, but Ian was generously proportioned and she’d shied away from letting him claim her virgin ass. He’d been patient, yet vowed when she was at last his, she would belong to him fully, in every way.
A ripple of trepidation ran through her, knowing tonight was the night. She didn’t get to dwell long on him stretching that untried part of her and taking the last of her innocence with his impressive cock, because he paused yet again. This time he stood beside the bed and stripped out of the rest of his tux.
“Don’t move,” he ordered huskily as she started to turn to watch him. “There is no prettier sight than you on your knees for me, that glorious ass in the air, legs parted wide, showing me all of your pretty pink wetness.”
“I don’t know how much more I can stand, Ian.”
“You’ll wait until I’m inside you, baby.”
Then he was back on the bed, fully naked behind her. As his hand on her hip steadied her, Ian slid the head of his cock through her wetness. Then in one perfect glide, he plunged into her. Her inner muscles clung to him as he began to fuck her in long, hard, purposeful strokes. His hands on her hips guided her motions, pulling her into him as he surged forward. “Beautiful,” she whispered.
“Yes, you are, Giada, fucking beautiful.”
And then, as if his cock wasn’t enough sensual torment, his thumb joined in. Dipping into her slit, he gathered some of her plentiful wetness and transferred it to the tight hole in back that he clearly intended to claim tonight. He circled the outer ring, spreading her natural lube before pressing inward with deliberate slowness. At the first knuckle he eased back, drew from her well of moisture again, and returning, slid deeper. Giada tossed her head; his cock filling her pussy and his thumb in her ass at the same time was like nothing she’d experienced—ever. More gliding pressure and he was inside, the heel of his hand resting on one cheek.
She clamped down as the twin sensations caused her to spiral out of control, flying up and apart as he fucked and filled her, driving her over the edge into an indescribable shuddering, convulsing climax.
As she quivered beneath him, Ian withdrew and eased her onto her side. He leaned over her, his tongue delving between her parted lips as he robbed her of what little air she had left. When he raised his head, he said in a throaty growl, “You’re magnificent when you come, Gi. For this next one, I want to feel you fly apart while I’m claiming your ass for the first time.”
Ian stretched over top of her, his weight pushing her into the mattress as she heard him retrieve something from the nightstand. When he eased back, his breath brushed over her ear as he promised gruffly, “Get ready to be filled like never before, baby; you’re going to love it.”
Behind her again, he lifted her top leg and draped it over one forearm, then straddled the one resting flat on the bed. Fingers slick with something cold, he prepared her before guiding the head of his cock where she longed for and dreaded it most.
Giada tensed at the stretch and the incredible fullness as he sank into her slowly. From her side lying position with him up on his knees, she could see his face while he took complete possession of her body. His jaw clenched and his cheeks flushed; she could see the strain it took to hold on to his waning control.
It was the final part of her physical self that she’d been withholding, and now that the time had come to surrender that to him too, she felt the overwhelming power of his dominance. Except something was missing, a part of her that she hadn’t shared, that she didn’t know if she ever could. Her eyes closed tight as it sparked a pang in her head and her heart, as though what she was withholding by omission was a betrayal.
“Giada,” Ian said, stopping. “If it’s too much…”
“No,” she said, her lashes flying open. “I’m fine.”
“Only fine?” he asked, brows gathering and speaking his concern.
“It’s good, Ian, but you’re a lot to take.”
“No, please. I want to belong to you, in all ways.”
The flash of silver in his eyes told her he liked that, yet still he hesitated. He withdrew slightly, shaking his head at her whimpered protest. “Hush, a stór, only applying more lube. I want this to be mind-blowing for you, not merely good.”
Adding the gel made his cock so slick that he slid deep on the next glide. She felt a pinch shy of pain; it lasted only a second and with another stroke, he was fully seated.
“Yes,” she whispered, although when he began to move, her hand flew instinctively to press flat on his belly; he really was a lot to take. But he wouldn’t let her resist and caught her hand with his own, twining their fingers together as he began a slow, gentle pumping motion in and out. With her legs splayed wide and her hand caught in his, he was in full control, which left her no recourse except to feel. Ian always said he got no pleasure unless she found it too, so he propped her leg up high on his chest and with unimpeded access, took complete advantage of it. Without slowing his steady motion, he searched out the swollen bud at the front of her sex and began circling it with his thumb.
“And that is even better, isn’t it, sweetheart?”
Her answer was a long drawn-out moan as she felt the heady pressure of desire building again. The sensations melded together—from his hand grasping hers, to his incessantly thrumming thumb, and his cock, lighting up the countless nerve endings in her bottom—as he began to drive into her faster, and spurred on a second climax. Quicker than the first, she felt the tightening in her belly spread to her pussy and around the invading hard shaft in her ass. Still, she wanted more. Knowing he was otherwise occupied, her hands came up and cupped her breasts, her thumbs and forefingers pinching her aching nipples as he urged her on.
“That’s it, Gi, tug on them harder, as I would, and get ready to come again. But get there fast, ‘cause I’m not going to last much longer.”
She rolled and twisted harder as she wriggled her hips, trying to increase the pressure of his thumb. Evidently, she wasn’t getting there fast enough because he shifted his hand, more fingers joining the play as he increased the friction on her clit.
“I’m coming, Ian,” she cried as if on cue.
“Thank fuck,” was his answering groan as his head fell forward. He grated out her name between clenched teeth as he drove harder into her ass and while her orgasm made her muscles clamp around him like a vise, he shuddered over top of her.
Giada would have enjoyed pausing to watch, loving the masculine beauty of her man when he lost control and poured himself into her. He was a sight to behold as he growled and succumbed to his release, yet she was too far gone in her own, flying apart, and well beyond the point of focusing on anything except for the utter bliss he created in her body.
Once they were spent, both of them breathing heavily and glistening with a light sheen of perspiration, he opened his eyes and smiled down at her. “You, my dear Mrs. Sheridan, having been quite thoroughly fucked, are now all mine.”
“You say the most romantic things, mio marito,” she sighed, only half kidding, as she batted her long lashes exaggeratedly.
Ian grinned while gently easing out of her and lowering her leg atop of the other. Then he stretched out in front of her and gathered her into his arms, his lips softly brushing her own.
“How’s this for romantic? I love you, Giada, more than I ever thought possible.”
A mist of tears stung her eyes and she buried her face in his neck to hide the flood of emotion that threatened to overflow. “Ti amo anch’io, Ian, but I’m scared.”
He moved back enough to see her face, his hand lifting her chin. “Why, love? We have our whole lives ahead of us, and I see nothing in store for us except complete happiness.”
She worried her lip with her teeth a moment, admitting, “You know how I can be.”
“Sweet and loving?”
She huffed a little laugh, unable to help it. “That is a huge load of bull. You are the only human on the planet that would describe me in such glowing terms.”
He turned serious. “That’s because I know you better than anyone, Gi. You put up impenetrable shields when others get too close, or when you’re scared, you hide behind an impressive pair of brass balls.”
His thumb swept out and slid softly across her cheek. “I’ve broken through. Whether fate, destiny, or the correct alignment of the moon and stars, whatever crap you believe in, we were meant for one another. You are the only woman for me, and I’m the only man who will put up with your bullshit and when it gets out of hand, call you on it.”
“Gee, thanks. I sound charming.”
“You can be. Like today, when you let the real you free. Fortunately, you do it often enough around me that I know the brass balls bitch is mostly an act.”
“What if it gets too much and the shrew takes over? It’s been known to happen.”
“I’ll deal, perhaps by taking you over my knee for a bare bottom wake-up call.”
Frozen, her mouth dropped open in shock for a moment, then she managed to ask, “Would you really spank me, Ian, for real? We’ve never… I mean you’ve tied me up and lord knows you’ve contorted me into the oddest positions, and while you’ve swatted my butt plenty in the heat of the moment, you’ve never—”
“There’s a first time for everything, sweetheart.”
She blinked up at him, oddly aroused by the thought of being draped over her husband’s muscular thighs and truly being taken to task for her behavior. He arched a brow, a glint of interest appearing in the stunning silvery blue depths as his hand curled around her hip and to her behind, giving it a good squeeze. She couldn’t keep from squirming and pressing against him, her nipples tight as they were teased by the light layer of hair on his chest, the exact amount to suit her taste. Was there anything about Ian Sheridan that didn’t suit her to perfection?
His thigh wedged between hers and up against her tingling, aroused pussy. “I think you like the idea. So maybe I’ll give it a try if the shrew makes an appearance.”
He cocked his head, eyeing her parted lips for a moment. Then, as he ground his thigh firmly against her wet center, his hand descended in an open-palmed smack on her upturned cheek. It didn’t really hurt, although the stinging heat sent a jolt of sensation roaring through her body, targeting her nipples and making her already stimulated clit throb with need.
Without giving her a chance to finish her thought, which wasn’t really one at all, he lifted his hand and swatted her again, more firmly. Giada, ready to come from the constant pressure of his hard thigh, sucked in a breath. Aroused to a point beyond shyness and ready to let him do whatever he wanted, she arched her back and offered her bottom to his hand.
Her creative husband had a different idea, plenty of them, in fact, and rolled onto his back with her ending up on top. “Or, I could fuck your ass then spank it, or do both simultaneously; the options are limitless, really.”
She was only half listening to his teasing musings; her legs parted naturally and fell to the outside of his as his other hand came down and swatted her yet untouched cheek. She groaned at the warmth and the noticeable tingle that seemed to penetrate straight through to her weeping center. As she wriggled above him, he thrust his hips upward and his erect cock, which had surged instantly to readiness at the first spank, slipped inside her. The man had stamina, often eager for another round while she was ready to pass out from their shared passion.
Giada sat up, allowing her body weight to ease her down his length as he sank fully inside her. “You really are insatiable, and I think that wicked side that’s been bubbling beneath the surface, peeking its head out every now and again with some light rope bondage and toys, has emerged in all of its kinky glory.”
He grinned as both hands came down in a simultaneous smack on her backside. This time they stayed there, grabbing handfuls of her round bottom as he urged her to move. “You don’t seem to mind.”
“Heck, no,” she said, her palms flat on his chest as she settled into a riding rhythm. “Will we be as frisky when we’re old and gray, and our grandkids are calling us Nana and Papa, do you think?”
“Ugh, how did we circle back to octogenarian sex?”
She giggled at the face he made.
“Yes,” he groaned as he hauled her close with one hand wrapped around the back of her neck. Then he murmured against her smiling lips, “Whether it’s fat and sassy sex at fifty, or Viagra-assisted lovemaking in our sixties. Hell, if we have to call in an orthopedic surgeon to be on standby for displaced hips in our seventies, I plan to keep loving you thoroughly and often.”
“I’m counting on you for that, Ian,” she uttered, sighing in response as he thrust up hard into her. But the nagging fear hadn’t quite left her yet. “Are you sure you won’t mind five decades with Giada the shrew as a wife? I’ll try, Ian, I will, but—”
Another swat, this one hard and sharp, not playful like the others. It smarted and was as real as he promised, while he gazed sternly up at her. “Didn’t we make vows to one another a few hours ago to love, honor, and cherish, until death do us part?”
“We did, honey. But you know things change.”
“If they do, so be it. I’ve got unconditional love for you, whether you’re a bitch in the boardroom or my angel between the sheets. I’ll love you for eternity, Giada Sheridan.”
She blinked back tears as she stared down at him. There was something about this man, something so special that she felt safe to open up and entrust him with her battered heart. “I’m going to hold you to that, husband.”
“I won’t let you down, wife. Now, ride me. I’m ready to come now. Later, when we’re ready to play again, maybe I’ll tap that ass one more time before our wedding night ends.”
“Giada. Baby. Move!”
And she did, as did he, until they both came shouting one another’s name, the same way she did later when he took her over his lap and swatted her backside to a warm, rosy shade of pink, in between teasing her clit to a fourth orgasm. Or was it five? She’d lost count. He wore her out, which put an end to his plan to take her ass one more time. Even though she’d been willing, he’d firmly said no, preferring she be able to walk up the steps of the plane when they left for their Caribbean honeymoon later that day.
The morning light was spreading streaks of gray throughout their bedroom when they finally lay replete and exhausted in each other’s arms. Too tired to move, and too wired to sleep, they held one another, each quietly lost in thought. Giada replayed the day and their long passionate wedding night, a spectacular beginning to a marriage that she’d never thought would come to be, not until she found the one special man who saw her for who she truly was, through all of her bullshit, as he’d said. Still a nagging fear in the back of her mind kept Giada awake, as Ian drifted off. Sometimes, no matter how deeply you wanted things to stay the same, often they were destined to change.