Page 136 of Fake it for Keeps

I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back. My makeup was still perfect despite all the happy tears. My hair had come loose from its style, falling in messy waves around my shoulders. And the lingerie made me feel powerful, sexy, and desirable.

Our wedding night was finally here. The first time we’d be together as husband and wife. I had been waiting two whole days for this, which wasn’t a long time, but it had felt like several eternities. I didn’t have to wait anymore.

I took a deep breath, tied the robe loosely around my waist, and headed back downstairs. Colt was standing by the fireplace, two champagne flutes in his hands. He’d taken off his jacket and bow tie, and his shirt was partially unbuttoned. He looked relaxed and gorgeous and mine.

When he heard me on the stairs, he turned. And the champagne glasses nearly slipped from his hands.

“I do,” he breathed.

I walked toward him slowly, letting the sheer robe flow behind me with each step. His eyes tracked my movement, darkening with desire as he took in every detail of what I was wearing.

I smiled and shook my head at him. “You already said I do earlier.”

“I should have said it louder.” His voice was rough. “Hallie, you’re going to kill me.”

I smiled and took one of the champagne flutes from his hand. “We should probably toast first. Before I become a widow on my wedding night.”

He laughed, the sound strained. “Right. Toast. We can do that.”

We raised our glasses.

“To us,” I said.

“To forever,” he added.

We clinked glasses and drank, our eyes locked on each other. The champagne was crisp and cold, but it did nothing to cool the heat building between us.

Colt set our glasses down on the mantel. His hands came to my waist, fingers playing with the tie of my robe.

“Can I?” he asked.

“You better.”

He pulled the tie slowly, and the robe fell open. He groaned as he took in the full effect of the lingerie. The way the lace cupped my breasts, the way the panties hugged my curves, the way the stockings made my legs look impossibly long.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “So fucking beautiful.”

I reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt, my fingers steady now despite my racing heart. “Your turn.”

He let me undress him slowly, my hands pushing the shirt off his shoulders, then working on his belt. I took my time, enjoying the way his muscles tensed under my touch, the way his breathing got heavier with each piece of clothing I removed.

When he was down to just his boxer briefs, I could see how much he wanted me. The evidence was impossible to miss.

I sank to my knees in front of him.

“Hallie,” he said, his voice tight. “You don’t have to⁠—”

“I want to,” I interrupted, looking up at him. “Let me do this for you.”

His eyes darkened even more. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulled them down slowly. He stepped out of them, and then he was completely bare before me.

I wrapped my hand around him, feeling the heat and hardness of him. He groaned, his hand coming to rest on top of my head, fingers threading through my hair.

I leaned forward and took him in my mouth.

The sound he made was somewhere between a curse and a prayer.

I started slowly, using my tongue and my lips with my hand massaging his balls and the lower part of his shaft. I’d learned what he liked over the past weeks—the pressure he preferred, the rhythm that drove him crazy, the way he responded when I took him deeper.