Wedding Night

Wedding Night Page 132

“Fliss!” Nico sounds agitated. “I cannot continue with our arrangement! The staff, they are wondering what I am up to. We are arousing suspicion!”

“You have to,” I say firmly. “They’re heading back to the hotel, and I’ll be there soon. Stop them from getting into bed meanwhile. Wrestle Ben to the ground if you have to. Whatever it takes!”

“Fliss—”

“We need to board, Mummy—”

“Whatever it takes, Nico! Whatever it takes!”

24

LOTTIE

I can hardly believe it’s true. Our hotel suite is empty. No staff milling around. No butlers. No harps. As I look around the sleek, silent furniture, I can feel a buzz of anticipation in the air. It’s as though the rooms are waiting for us to fill them with noise and heat and gasps and lovely, lovely sex.

We arrived back at the hotel and came straight up here. Neither of us said a word. I’m blocking everything else out right now. All thoughts about our marriage. All thoughts about Richard. All thoughts about Sarah. My shame, my sadness, my humiliation—I’m blocking it all out. The only thing I’m focusing on is that insistent pulse inside me I’ve been feeling ever since I clapped eyes on Ben in that restaurant. I want him. He wants me. We deserve this.

As he comes toward me, his eyes are darkening and I can tell he feels like I do: where to start? We have the whole experience ahead of us, like a delicious box of chocolates.

“Did you put out DO NOT DISTURB?” I murmur as his lips find my neck.

“Of course.”

“And lock the door?”

“Am I stupid?”

“So this is really happening.” My hands run down his back and even lower, cupping his two taut buttocks, and I fleetingly wish mine were that firm. “Mmmm.”

“Mmmm.” He eases out of my grip and peels off his shirt. God, I fancy this man. And I know he’s a flake; I know he’ll be on to Sarah, or even some other girl, tomorrow. But for now—glorious now—he’s all mine.

He’s slowly unbuttoning my shirt. Thank God I’m wearing an expensive, froufrou bra. Richard never took any notice of my underwear, just used to peel it off in a great hurry. Then I told him I was hurt by this and he went to the other extreme, always murmuring “Great bra” or “Sexy pants.” Dear Richard.

No. Stop, Lottie. No Richard thoughts. They’re banned.

Ben is doing delicious things inside my ear with his tongue, and I moan urgently, reaching for his belt, unbuttoning his jeans. I thought I wanted this to be long and drawn out and epic, the stuff of memories. But now that it’s happening, I realize I don’t care about it being long and drawn out. I want him now. Now. Now. Short and epic will suit me fine.

Ben’s panting and I’m panting, and I can feel he’s as desperate as I am, and I have never wanted anyone so much in my whole entire life—

“Madame? A drink?”

What the fuuuck?

We both leap so high, it’s as though we’re Irish dancers doing a pas de deux.

I’m half undressed. Ben is half undressed. And Georgios is standing a meter away, holding a silver salver bearing a bottle of wine and several glasses.

“What?” Ben barely seems capable of words. “What is it?”

“A glass of wine? Or iced water?” says Georgios nervously. “Courtesy of the management.”

“Fuck the management! Fuck the fucking management!” Ben explodes. “I put on the DO NOT DISTURB sign. Can’t you read? Can’t you see what we’re doing? Have you heard of the concept of privacy?”

Georgios is speechless. He takes a step forward and nervously proffers the silver salver.

“Fine!” Ben seems to reach the end of his tether. “Stay there! Watch!”

“What?” I stare at him.

“He’s not going to leave us alone. Well, then, he can watch us. We’re consummating our marriage,” he adds over his shoulder to Georgios. “Should be fun.”

He reaches to unhook my bra and I clamp my hands over my breasts. “Ben!”

“Take no notice of the butler,” Ben says fiercely. “Pretend he’s a pillar.”

Is he serious? He expects us to have sex while the butler watches? Isn’t that against the law?

Ben starts nuzzling at my cleavage, and I shoot a glance at Georgios. He’s put one hand over his eyes but is still holding out the salver.

“Champagne?” he says, sounding distraught. “You would prefer champagne?”

“Why don’t you just go?” I say furiously. “Leave us alone!”

“I cannot!” He sounds desperate. “Please, madame. Stop for refreshment at least.”