“I now pronounce you mon,” the minister pronounced island-style, “and wife. Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Garrison.”
Mrs. Garrison.
Before she could digest those words Adam cupped her face in his palms and covered her mouth with his. This wasn’t a tentative seal-the-deal peck. Adam kissed like a man assured of his welcome. His mouth branded hers, stamping her with ownership, and then his tongue separated her lips and swept the sensitive inside of her mouth as if he had every right to be there.
Tasting. Teasing. Tempting.
His kiss invited her to a party of sensual delights she had no doubt a man of his experience could provide. She hadn’t had a lover since Tommy, and he’d been a twenty-three-yearold selfish jerk. The men before Tommy had been just as clumsy, just as selfish.
Adam’s kiss promised satisfaction and she felt her control slipping. He overwhelmed her senses with his taste, his scent, his touch, and her hormones did a rain dance in hopes of ending the nine-year drought. The kiss felt so good, so right, that she lost herself in a hot rush of need, dug her toes in the shifting sand and pushed herself deeper into his embrace. Every inch of her body yearned to accept his invitation, to find out if lovemaking could actually be as good as it was in the romance novels she read.
She vaguely registered the birds screeching overhead, the waves crashing nearby, but it was Cassie’s laughter that jarred Lauryn back to reality.
What are you doing?
She ripped her mouth free.
Adam breathed harshly. Hunger blazed in his eyes as he held her gaze, and she realized her mistake. She’d done a lot of less than honorable things in her time, things that made her cringe with shame. But she’d never been a tease.
That kiss, laden with years of pent-up passion, had promised something she had no intention of delivering.
“Sober enough to come to the phone?”
Lauryn nearly choked on her champagne when she heard Adam’s question as she reentered the den after changing out of her wedding dress.
Okay, so maybe this was her second glass since Cassie and Brandon had left, and she’d had one two hours ago after dinner with her slice of wedding cake. Still, she should switch to coffee unless she wanted another wedding night like her first. One she couldn’t remember. Drowning her nerves and her doubts wasn’t working, anyway.
Adam’s discarded tux jacket draped the back of a nearby chair. He stood facing the darkness outside the glass doors with both elbows bent beside his head and his white dress shirt stretched taut across his broad shoulders. The table lamp reflected off his wedding band drawing her attention to the cell phone pressed to his left ear.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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