The Wilder Wedding. Lyn Stone

he finally released her mouth, Laura realized her knees had given way completely. She hung in his embrace like a puppet cut loose of its strings.

      His harsh breath rushed out against her ear. One large hand gripped the base of her neck and the other cupped her just below her ruched-up bustle.

      She could feel a taut ridge of muscle pressed firmly to her front. Well, at least he wasn’t too put off, she thought with purely female satisfaction.

      “What comes next?” she gasped.

      With a groan of exasperation, he swept her up in his arms and sat down on the divan. “We have to talk,” he said, settling her on his lap.

      Those wonderful hands of his stroked up and down her arms. She supposed that was meant to calm her. Ha! “No, we don’t need talking,” she argued, seeking his mouth again. She felt starved for him, and so very much alive it hurt.

      He turned his head to avoid the kiss. “Yes, we do! Wait a moment!” His breathing slowed to nearly normal as she waited. “Now then,” he said, and cleared his throat. “About your luggage—”

      “Bother the luggage. It’s not going anywhere.” She tugged on his tie, watching the bow unravel.

      “Laura, I’m warning you. Behave yourself!” Sean admonished sharply, and pushed her far enough away to see her face. “Look, everything’s happening too damned fast. I need time to think. There are things we need to consider…to plan.”

      Laura reached up, cradling his face with both hands. “No,” she said gruffly. “Plans require a future, Sean. Do you understand that? There is only here and now. This moment. If you can’t bring yourself to do this, just say so and I shall get up. If you can, then for heaven’s sake, please do it!”

      Sean leaned his forehead to hers and sighed. “This seems wrong, Laura. We’ve only known each other less than a day.”

      “A lifetime,” she whispered as she turned her head to meet his lips. He surrendered with a tortured groan.

      She tried to record his every touch, every nuance of his heated kisses, every word fragment that passed his busy lips. No use, she decided, and abandoned herself to the sweeping fire he ignited.

      How had they gotten from the divan to his bed? She gasped at the feel of silk sliding off her hips. The rustle of his clothing sounded like the sweetest music in the world.

      Suddenly the muscled, hair-roughened texture of his bare chest brushed over her own soft curves. Lips blazed a path down her neck, across her chest, and settled on a tightened peak of need. Her breath hissed in through her teeth. His palm glided over her knee and trailed up her inner thigh. Anticipation immediately lost its appeal. She wanted him now.

      “Open, sweetheart,” he whispered, tasting her ear. “There now,” he crooned as his fingers worked magic. “Hot, you are so incredibly hot! Feel that. Do you like?”

      “Mmm. I like,” she agreed, arching into his hand. “Yes!” When she thought she could stand no more, he stopped. Laura would have pleaded if she’d had a voice left.

      “I know, I know,” he soothed as he rose above her. “You might not like this part,” he warned softly. “Try to relax. Let go.”

      She felt his male part nudge her gently and automatically lifted herself toward it.

      “Steady now,” he said, thrusting gently, seating himself more firmly against her tight resistance. Then he plunged.

      Laura struggled to get even closer, but he held her immobile with the weight of his body and his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t rush me. You’ll regret it,” he murmured, and claimed her mouth again.

      Tenderly at first, then growing insistent, his tongue invaded, moving in and out rhythmically, until her entire being focused solely on that act. Before she knew it, his lower body echoed the motion. How wonderfully pleasant, she thought, feeling herself join the intimate dance he created.

      Pleasant quickly escalated to sublime with the marvelous friction inside her. Laura groaned into his mouth, wishing he would hurry. She didn’t understand her urgency, didn’t care at this point, but he seemed to sense her need and increased the pace to a fever pitch.

      “Ah, now!” he rasped as the first shudder of ecstasy shook her. The rippling force of pure pleasure sent her flying into a void of star-studded nothingness. Everythingness, she corrected with a shaky last thought.

      When feeling returned, she opened one eye. Sean lay plastered to her side, muscles glistening with sweat, his chest heaving with exertion. Spent. Laura smiled. “Better than talking, hmm?”

      He grunted a soft laugh and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck. “Better than anything.”

      She couldn’t say when she drifted off to sleep, but when she woke it was to the smell of food. He had anticipated her hunger. Known what she needed before she even realized it, just as he had last evening. And he didn’t waste a moment. The idea that Sean would go to such lengths to please her warmed her heart. What a husband! No one could ever say Laura Middlebrook Wilder hadn’t made at least one truly excellent decision in her lifetime.

      “Thank you, God.” She closed her eyes and whispered with a grin. “I don’t think I’m quite so angry with You anymore.”

      Sean hefted the tray onto his left palm and entered the bedroom. The newly arrived letter in his pocket rustled as he turned to close the door. This one, delivered right to his rooming house, bothered him more than the one sent to his office. Prepare to die, it said. Someone—very probably Luckhurst—was toying with him. But he couldn’t concern himself with that right now. The writer of the dratted things would surely give up the game by the time Sean had finished his business in Paris.

      If the fool meant to frighten him, Sean could almost laugh at the pitiful effort. For the past ten years, he had lived daily with danger that bore no forewarning at all. His first ten years of life had been much the same. Worse, really, due to lack of training to deal with the perils he encountered. Watching his back became second nature, a way of life. These little scare tactics didn’t unnerve him in the least. But they did present a bothersome puzzle, and puzzles distracted him from more important matters.

      He would have to dismiss the letters. Just forget them. Today he had a greater puzzle, a distraction and an important matter all rolled into one. A wife.

      Sean smiled at the sight greeting him as he entered the bedroom. Laura nestled amid the pillows with the sheet tucked just beneath her arms. Her smile shamed sunshine and was, thank God, not so rare.

      “Food!” he announced as he carefully set the tray on the bed beside her. “Don’t fidget, sweetheart. You’ll spill the tea.”

      “Mmm,” she agreed, snatching up a fat sugared biscuit. Her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as she chewed. The blue gray eyes rolled with pleasure.

      He had to laugh. “Such a greedy child!” Had he ever seen anyone so gluttonous for every moment’s worth of joy?

      Recalling the reason for her hedonism sobered him immediately. She never knew just how many moments she had left. Laura could only be certain of this particular one.

      “Such a gloomy face!” she admonished, drawing her brows together. “Don’t frown so. It puts lines between your eyes.”

      “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” he said, tapping her nose with his finger.

      She choked down the food and took a swallow of her tea. “When do we leave?”

      “Two hours,” he told her. “We must be at Dover by this evening. I sent to the hotel for your things. They should arrive directly. Will you need a maid?”

      “Never had one. Will you need a valet?” she teased.

      Sean grinned at the thought of having someone dress him. Now someone—this particular someone—undressing