Luckily, Preacher had slipped me a little root doctor concoction before my wedding, to prevent me from falling out in a narcoleptic coma. Jesus, that would’ve been a disaster. Me. Asleep. On my wedding night. As it is, I’m wide awake. Anxious. Elated.
Filled to the rim with a joy I can’t even begin to explain.
More hugging, more kissing, and more memories are made. I truly am a lucky girl.
“If we don’t get out of here within the next five minutes I’m going to maul you here in front of everyone,” Eli whispers into my ear. I look at him, and his eyes shine. “I mean it.”
I grin.
I believe him. “Well, let’s go, Mr. Dupré.”
Eli grins. “As you wish, Mrs. Dupré.”
Yes. We’re that annoying couple who relishes calling each other by their newly married name. I love it. I can’t say it enough.
“This way,” Noah suddenly says at my shoulder. He grins down at me. “I must love the hell out of you both. Assisting in your honeymoon getaway.” He shakes his head. “What have I become?”
“The best friend a man could ask for,” Eli says, and hugs him. “Lead the way, my good man.”
We weave through the back of the house, and outside, Eli’s Silverback awaits. Cans and streamers sill hang behind it. Noah helps me onto the back.
“I’ll take care of everything until you get back,” he tells Eli. Then leans over and kisses me. “I love you, Mrs. Dupré. See ya.”
“Love you, too, Mr. Miles.”
Noah grins and waves us away.
I hold on to Eli’s waist, and I have absolutely no idea where we’re going. He told no one—except Rhine and the band, who’d helped him get whatever he’s gotten ready ready. He pulls the Silverback up to the landing on River Street and helps me off. Wordlessly, he takes me down to the dock and helps me onto a small boat. Without saying one word, he pulls me against him and starts the engine. We take off into the harbor.
A half hour later, and ahead, through the darkness, one of the small barrier islands is awash in moonlight. On the beach, a fire flickers. Eli runs the boat up onto the sand, jumps out, and lifts me up. He carries me to a lean-to, sits me on my feet.
Not any old run-of-the-mill lean-to.
Our wedding night lean-to. He steps through the gauzy white material of a doorway and looks back at me.
In his eyes shine possession, fierce longing, and something way deeper than I’ve ever seen before in those blue depths. “Come in here,” he says, and grasps my hand, pulls me inside. I follow.
His eyes are trained on mine. “Stand still.”
I do as he says.
Slowly, Eli’s deft fingers move over my skin to the tiny buttons at the lower back of my gown. Loosening each one, he pushes my gown off my shoulders, his lips falling against my skin. My eyes close as his fingers trail down each hip, and he helps me step out of my dress. He removes my shoes. When he stands, I take off his tux jacket. Push his suspenders off his shoulders. Unbutton his shirt. When my hands move to his belt, air hisses from his lips. I slowly push his slacks over his muscular hips, and I’m not surprised to see he’s gone to his wedding commando-style. He grins, kicks off his socks and shoes, and scoops me up and lowers his head. Full lips brush over mine, and he kisses me until we reach the massive pallet of quilts thrown together for our wedding bed. He follows me down.
My body involuntarily shakes.
He comes to me then, close; his body brushes mine, his fingers ease over my bare shoulders, across my collarbone, down the front where my strapless bra clasps between my breasts. He releases it, eases it down, and I wince. With a gentleness that no longer surprises me, he pushes the silky material off my body and drops it to the ground.
Inside, I’m dying.
“I know, baby,” he says, reading my mind. He slips his fingers through the waistband of my panties and eases them off. “I’m going to fix that.”
My heart leaps.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers. I do.
Eli’s mouth moves over my skin, tasting erotic samples of each rib, over my abdomen, each breast. I can feel the heat building inside me. It’s been so long. I reach for him.
“No, don’t do that,” he whispers. “Stay with me, Riley.”
I sigh. “I’m trying.”
His seductive mouth against my skin makes my nerves leap. “Try harder.”
Eli’s hands glide over my shoulders, down my arms, intertwine his fingers with mine, and draw me close. His hard body presses close to me; his lips seek the top of my shoulder, my throat, my ear, my jaw, and slide to my mouth. In a slow, erotic kiss, his tongue grazes mine, his teeth scrape my lips and capture the bottom one, and he suckles gently.
Inside, I grow heavy with desire; my knees weaken, and I lift my hips; his breath catches in his throat; he captures my hands in his hands and lowers them.
“Not yet, Riley,” he says, his voice strained, his French accent thick. I move my hands to his chest, trail the muscles there, his breath brushing against my ear. “You touch me, I explode. Just . . . be still.”
“Then don’t kiss me like that,” I insist.
I feel his smile against my skin. “No promises there.”
I sigh.
“Turn around,” he says against my cheek.
I do, and he pushes my hair over one shoulder and moves his mouth over my skin. It takes even more control not to touch Eli.
There’s a hot, sexy, naked vampire in the marriage bed with me.
Eli chuckles, reading my thoughts. I think of nothing but Eli, his touch, and the craving he stirs within me. His hands glide over my body, every inch passed makes my eyes roll back in bliss; I want him everywhere, inside, out, and I never, ever want him to leave again.
His hands move over my hips, encircle my stomach, and pull my body against his. I feel his muscles pressing into my spine, his hardness pressing against the small of my back. His arms tighten around me, his mouth at my jaw. “I swear, I’ll never leave you again,” he whispers, his voice strained, somewhat painful. “I’m yours forever.”
I turn in his arms and lock my gaze on his. His dark hair falls across his eyes, and I reach up and push it aside, graze his jaw, run my thumb over his sexy lips. “Promise?”
His mouth seeks mine. “I promise,” he whispers, his tongue tasting mine.
I push him back. “Good. Now you be still.”
A small smile tilts his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
I lose myself in his drugging kiss; my hands glide over the muscles in his back, over his tight ass, over his hips. The feel of his tongue against mine, his teeth scraping my lips, makes me hot, wet, crazy. Blind with need, I move my hands over the cut ridges of his abdomen, lower, and grasp his hardness. He gasps in my mouth, groans deep, kisses me deeper.
“Jesus, Riley,” he says, pained. “Control’s slipping.” His hands are roaming all over me.
“Don’t care,” I mutter against his throat, my hands stroking him. “Need you,” I pant, pressing my body to his. “Now, Eli.”
Without words, he moves over me, sinks his hard length in until Eli fills me completely. My head drops back, drugged, weightless. Eli’s mouth tastes my skin; his tongue teases the hardened, sensitive peaks of my breasts, first one, then the other. With his fingers digging into my hips, he moves, the feel of his hardness sliding inside me making me crazy high. His mouth caresses me, makes love to me.
“Eli,” I gasp, and hold on, our rhythms matching, and somewhere deep within me, an intense orgasm begins like a faraway storm. We move together, fast, out of control, until the storm grows in strength and finally crashes, wave after wave of climax claiming us both; I lose my breath, spasms rack my body. Eli holds me close; his mouth presses to my throat. The world tilts still; Eli’s lovemaking has that effect on me. I can do nothing more than hold on to him.
Through the darkness, Eli’s eyes search mine. Slowly, he lowers his head, captures my mouth, and kisses me. Now his control has returned and he uses it to savor my lips, my tongue, to speak to me with just his mouth: actions that speak volumes over any words he could have whispered to me.
Until he does.
Eli pulls me close against him, my head resting on his chest, his arms completely around me, holding me to his body. He pulls back, just enough so I can see his face. With his fingers, he finds my wedding ring. Caresses it.
Serious, cerulean eyes with tiny flecks of bloodred bore into mine. “I love you, Riley Poe Dupré.” He brushes a thumb over my lips. “If I could, I’d die for you. Don’t forget that.” He kisses me then, slowly, erotically, then looks at me again. “Ever.”
I pull his mouth back to mine and kiss him until I’m breathless. “You’re mine forever, Eligius Dupré.”
He smiles against my mouth and pulls me closer. “Not long enough, but it’ll do for now.”
