Page 81 of Beloved Beauty

Flowers spill across the duvet in gentle waves. Nestled in the center, laid on display, is my white bridal lingerie, so delicate it looks like it was spun from moonlight. White lace, soft and sheer, with satin ribbons tied in bows that beg to be undone.

Beside it—oh God.

At the foot of the bed, nestled on a tray, waits a curated display of indulgence. A black satin blindfold. Two silk restraints wound into soft coils waiting to be wrapped around wrists. A bottle of warming oil.

Meant for skin and sin.

Beside it all, the real temptations: a pair of rose-toned butt plugs in graduated sizes, one crowned with a crystal, another shaped like a delicate bloom. A sleek vibrating bullet, its promise silent but sure. And resting in its charger like a weapon of pleasure—a full-sized wand, matte white and built for one thing only.

Pleasure.

I exhale, heat blooming low.

“The girls in my bridal party outdid themselves.”

Alex steps behind me, his mouth hovering near my ear. “I was already the luckiest bastard alive. Now I’m not even sure I’ll survive the night.”

He reaches for the zipper of my dress and pulls slowly, every inch of the descent dragging like a promise. The fabric loosens around me, slipping from my shoulders. I catch it in time and press it to my chest.

“Not yet,” I say, stepping out of reach with a grin. “Waiting is foreplay.”

He groans deep in his throat. “Is that so?”

“Among other things.” I grab the lingerie from the bed and head toward the bathroom. “Give me five.”

Behind me, he calls out, “Take six and I’m coming in after you.”

I glance over my shoulder. “So impatient.”

“I’ve married the most beautiful woman on earth. Of course I’m impatient.”

The bathroom light glows soft and amber. I set the white lace aside and step out of my dress. My fingers shake a little when I slide the lingerie over my skin. It fits with perfection. Barely-there cups. Straps that cross beneath my breasts and curve at my hips, ready for him to remove.

I pause at the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, and my lips are still kiss-swollen. I have the look of a woman in love. Completely. Undeniably.

I add a dab of perfume to the inside of my thigh. Something subtle. Something for him to notice later.

I turn off the light and return to the bedroom for our wedding night.

The tux is long gone. He’s down to black boxer briefs and that look in his eyes—the one that says he plans to ruin me slowly.

The black-light flashlight is in his hand.

“That’s for later.”

He sets it on the nightstand. “I know, but I want it nearby, handy, when I’m ready for it.”

His gaze lifts—and stops. His breath leaves him in one stunned rush. “Jesus, Magnolia.”

I cross the room, moving toward him. “Too much?”

“Never.”

He reaches for me, fingertips brushing my waist, his hands gentle but greedy. “You look like an angel. My angel.”

I smile up at him, heart pounding. “Then make me fly.”

His skin catches the candlelight, golden and warm, and his eyes… God, his eyes. They’re not teasing anymore. They’re soft. Intense. Worshipful.

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