"That's the reason that matters." He takes a step back, breaking our connection, and he locks the door.
He can't mean…
Joel turns back to me, his eyes fierce. "Take off your panties."
My sex clenches. I want him right now, and not just his body, his mind and his heart too. But— "Someone will hear."
He shakes his head. "You'll stay quiet."
"I can't."
His voice drops to that demanding tone. "You can."
I can… I'm not sure about that, but, at the moment, I'm more than willing to try. I press my back against the conference table. "We're really married."
"Fuck, say that again."
"You're my husband."
His pupils dilate.
"And I'm your wife."
His teeth sink into his bottom lip.
It fills me with just as much desire. This, staying married, is crazy. It's not the crazy of marrying him in Vegas—that was a spur of the moment, gin-soaked decision.
This isn't.
I'm sober. I'm lucid. I'm in my right mind.
This is what I want, Joel as my husband.
Me as his wife.
Fuck.
I don't care about the consequences anymore.
I need our bodies joining.
His voice is a growl. "Panties. Off. Now."
I'm tempted to test him, to see what he'll do if I disobey. But last time I called his bluff, I ended up desperate and wanting.
I can't take that now. My emotions are a cresting wave. They're going to knock me down if I don't get the reassurance that he really is mine.
I pull my dress to my waist, plant my ass on the conference table, and spread my legs. "Why don't you help me with that?"
Desire spreads over his expression. "You teasing me, angel?"
My tongue slides over my lips. "Maybe."
Two steps and his body is planted between my legs. He looks down at me as he drags his fingertips from the inside of my knee, up my thigh, over my panties, back down the other leg.
He does it again and again.
He does it until I'm panting.