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It's been hours since I serenaded Delilah in front of the entire wedding party, and she hasn't left my arms since. Not when Daisy and Wyatt cut the towering cake, smearing frosting on each other's faces amid raucous cheers. Not when the happy couple finally departed for their remote honeymoon cabin in a shower of rose petals. Hell, not even when Delilah's aunt Lucia busted out the tequila and tried valiantly to teach me an X-rated version of the Macarena.
Nope, my girl has been firmly planted at my side all night, nestled against me with this radiant smile that makes my heart do all kinds of acrobatic shit. Can't say I'm complaining one bit—having this gorgeous, feisty creature in my arms feels more right than anything I've ever known.
As the DJ kicks up a pulsing Latin beat, Delilah detaches herself just long enough to saunter toward the dance floor, every swivel of those lush hips a blatant temptation. Throwing me a sultry look over one shoulder, she starts swaying and undulating to the irresistible rhythm like she was born to move this way.
Well, two can play at that game, princess.
With a wolfish grin, I pop open the collar of my dress shirt and roll up the sleeves, giving her a prime view of tanned, corded forearms as I stalk after her. Delilah's eyes blaze with undisguised appreciation when I finally reach her, pulling that lithe body flush against mine as we meld together in perfect sync.
“Careful there, mountain man,” she says as my hands roam down to grip her hips. “You sure you can keep up?”
A low rumble of laughter escapes me as I pull her impossibly closer. "You haven't been able to shake me yet, have you?"
Delilah's lips curve in that sassy smirk I've become addicted to. "We'll see about that."
With a teasing grind of her hips, she starts leading our movements, swaying and dipping with effortless grace. I do my best to match her rhythm, but Delilah quickly abandons any attempts at structure, instead opting for a sinuous, primal dance fueled by pure desire.
Our bodies undulate together in a heated, carnal rhythm as the pulsing Latin beat drives us on. I can feel the heat building between us, a raging inferno stoked by every brush of her curves against me. Delilah throws her head back, lost in the music, and I can't resist trailing open-mouthed kisses along the tempting column of her throat.
She lets out a breathy laugh. "We've got an audience, remember?"
"Then maybe we should take this somewhere more private," I growl against her skin, desire roughening my voice. “Like the bathroom, perhaps?”
Delilah stills at that, her heavy-lidded gaze finding mine as she visibly considers my suggestion. “A repeat performance?” she asks.
I slowly incline my head toward the hallway to the bathrooms—an unmistakable invitation for some very private fun. Delilah's eyes widen momentarily before she gives me the slightest nod, that full mouth curving into a sinful smile.
Not wasting a second, she twists out of my arms and starts sashaying away, throwing me one last smoldering look over her shoulder. The sway of those hips is nothing short of hypnotic as she disappears down the hall.
I count to ten before following after her, anticipation thrumming hot through my veins. This wild, irresistible creature has awoken something inside me—a smoldering hunger only she can sate. And tonight, I plan on indulging in her sweet temptation until we're both utterly, blissfully satisfied.
I make my way down the hallway, following the trail of Delilah's floral perfume like a lovesick bloodhound. Can't say I'm proud of being so easily led around by my nose—or other body parts—but this woman renders me powerless.
When I finally reach the bathroom door, I pause to collect what's left of my dignity before pushing inside. And there she is, my own personal tormentor, looking far too pleased with herself.
Delilah is draped across the marble counter like a centerfold, one leg casually crossed over the other to put those killer stems on full display. Her dress has ridden up indecently high, leaving way too much skin exposed for my sanity.
I lock the bathroom door behind me with a decisive click, effectively sealing us off from the rest of the world. When I turn back to Delilah, she's giving me an expectant look—one brow arched in silent challenge.
"Well?" she prompts. "You gonna just stand there staring all night?"
"Get undressed," I tell her, leaning back against the door and crossing my arms.
Delilah's eyes go comically wide for a split second before she lets out a full-bodied laugh. "You should know by now that I don't take orders."
I fight back a grin at her sassy retort, somehow both charmed and painfully turned on by her feistiness. "Oh, I think you'll take orders from me just fine, princess. That, and anything else I want to give you."
Her pretty mouth falls open on a soft exhale, those big eyes going dark and molten. "Such as?" she finally manages in a low rasp.
Rather than answering directly, I let my gaze brazenly rake over her. "You'll just have to wait and find out, won't you?"
Holding my stare captive, she reaches behind her to unclasp the zipper of her dress with excruciating slowness. The thin straps immediately go slack, allowing the silky material to slither down her shoulders in a tantalizing strip tease.
I actually growl when her lush curves are finally bared to my hungry gaze, all that flawless golden skin on display. Delilah smiles at my reaction as she shimmies the rest of the dress down her body in one sinuous movement.
Leaving her in nothing but a scrap of black lace and those stockings that have been driving me wild all night.
