When Honey Got Married (24 page)

“I pressed the privacy button a while back. I’ll press it again when we’re…done.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that came with the ride.”

“It’s the kind of thing a groom takes care of.”

“Oh,” she said, touched to find he’d put his mark on the day after all. Even if it was not the kind of story she’d be sharing at anniversary dinners with their folks in the future.

“So we’re
parking
, are we?” she said, rolling against him until he sucked air between his teeth. “Seems a little redundant when we have a whole honeymoon suite awaiting us.”

“Honey,” he growled, his big hand sliding down her chest, over the mound of one straining breast, down the sensitive plane of her stomach. “Ice sculptures and enough honeysuckle to make a man’s eyes water were all fine, but for tonight I couldn’t give a hoot about rose petals and candles. I’ve got what I need right here.”

On the last word his hand slid between them, cupping her, stroking her until she lifted onto her knees. He held her close, his tongue dipping into her navel, his teeth scraping the jut of her hip bone as his fingers worked their magic.

Fireworks
, she thought, as a shower of heat poured through her
. Ten years with the guy, and he still gives me fireworks.
She’d just been so tunnel-visioned by the wedding that she’d somehow let herself forget this. The conversation. The chemistry. The closeness.

Then, right when her whole body was vibrating and soaked in pleasure, his hand slipped away. She groaned in desperation as her eyes shot open to find a wolfish smile on his beautiful face.
Uh-oh
, she thought.

“Hummingbirds?” he finally said. “Honestly?” His eyebrow arched, a glint in the eye as if he had no idea what he was doing to her. But the tightness of his jaw gave him away.

Honey slowly slid her knees apart, lowering herself inch by inch. “I went a little crazy. I know. But I
was
half hoping you’d stop me, and you never did.”

“Why would I?” he said, his voice deep and raw, his hands sliding around her to take hold of her backside as he pressed himself back. “It’s my duty to make sure you have everything you want in this life. It’s my mission to make you happy.”

“Happy wife, happy life?” she asked, her head rocking back on her neck as he pulled himself free and brought her down upon him until he filled her up.

“Happy Honey,” he said, finding the friction, the angle, the pace he knew she liked best of all, “happy Brent.”

As Honey proceeded to make them both very happy, she thought about his words. Simple, uncomplicated. It would pay to remember that in future, when she next got in a tizzy. Because she no doubt would. She
was
a complicated woman, after all.

But for the moment she was simply a woman who loved her man. She loved his ambition, and his sweetness. His steadfastness. A serious man, with a serious future in his sights.

And as she rocked against him, heat building inside of her even while it scorched her skin pink and slick, he looked at her like he’d never been more serious in his entire life.

“Love you to pieces, sweet girl,” he said, his voice like gravel.

“Right on back, gorgeous boy,” said Honey, who didn’t even realize she was crying until she tasted salt in her mouth.

And he did love her. All of her. He loved the basket case and the ambitious go-getter. She got that now. Honestly, what man would marry a woman who’d commissioned Clint Black to write a love song about them for their wedding dance unless he seriously wanted to?

…

And that’s how, a half an hour later, the future Senator for Louisiana, Brent Delacroix, walked into the elegant Villemont Hotel, Baton Rouge, sporting the makings of a black eye, while his new bride, Honey Moreau, snuggled against him in silk stockings, lace garter belts and her new husband’s tuxedo jacket.

Honey
Delacroix
, Brent corrected, liking the sound of that very much.

About the Author

Australian writer Ally Blake is a redhead, a footy fan, a devotee of the language of Aaron Sorkin; she is addicted to stationery and M&Ms, weak in the face of Italians and firefighters, married to a spectacular and ever-patient man, mum to three beings of pure delight, and a firm believer in love, luck, and fairies.

She is also a best-selling author with more than twenty-five fun, flirty romance novels under her belt with over three million copies of her books sold worldwide.

For Ally’s take on life, writing, and other fancy stuff, head to
www.allyblake.com
.