Page 49 of Father of the Bride
She played the coquette beautifully, gliding the fabric over her thighs, revealing inch after inch of deep brown skin. His mouth went dry at the sight. His heart thudded dangerously. The thin blue duvet rose inconspicuously, his erection forming a tent that made her smile wickedly.
When she finally pulled her coverup over her head, unveiling her nakedness, he devoured her with his gaze, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Damn.”
It was all he could manage to say, yet it was exactly what she wanted to hear.
“Bring all that over here,” he rasped, his voice rough with want.
She glided toward the bed effortlessly, gracefully, fluidly.Like a gazelle, he thought. Perfection.
And he would know. He created perfection every day with a scalpel in his hands. But he was just a man with a skill, not a god. Looking at Cici, he appreciated the work God had done on her. Yes indeed, He took his time when he sculpted those curves, when he fashioned every delicate line. The tempting swell of her breasts. The dip at her waist. The thickness of her thighs. God made a masterpiece, and Mark felt like a sinner gazing upon such sacred work. His fingers itched to touch her. To claim her. To ruin the pristine beauty in front of him.
Yes,ruin.
Not a word he would have chosen in his right mind, but that was the thing about Cici. She could drive a man mad.
Her ex-husband proved that earlier this evening.
She climbed onto the bed, sliding into the space Mark created for her with a lift of his hand on the covers. Snuggling up against him felt so natural, she almost forgot how dangerous it was. His hand slid down the curve of her hip, slow and possessive, making her shiver. His bare chest was warm against her breasts, his breath hot against her neck. She could feel his hard length pressing insistently against her hip, making promises with his body that his mouth hadn't spoken yet.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. His hand went to her cheek. They shared a loving gaze, but just for a moment.
“I need to ask you something,” he said quietly.
Sunny didn’t mean to, but she did. She dropped her gaze to his dick.
He laughed, a good sport about it. “It’ll still be there when we’re done talking. I’m older, but I ain’tthatold.”
“No, I—“ she burst out laughing. “Aging is a bitch, ain’t it? Nobody told us.”
“You’re only as old as you feel inside,” he said. “But yeah, it’s a bitch.” His eyes shifted up. “Do you color your grays?”
“Of course.”
“Why of course?”
“Vanity,” Sunny said. “I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with the concept, Dr. Bennett.”
He chuckled. “These bodies of ours, they’re just outer shells.”
“But you’ve made a living altering outer shells.”
He shrugged. “I give the people what they want.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m just surprised a plastic surgeon has such conservative views on aging.”
“Probably because I know how superficial it all is. I’m part of the problem, yeah, but I still get philosophical every now and then.”
She smiled. “I like when you get philosophical.” She kissed his lips, soft and sweet. “Oh. What did you wanna ask me?”
His face relaxed into a serious expression. “Are you still involved with him?”
Her breath caught. “Him?”
“Your ex-husband.” His gaze sharpened. “He’s been in your face all night. At one point, he had his hands on you. He acts like you still belong to him. So I’m asking this now, before I get in too deep.”
She opened her mouth, but he cut her off, his voice quieter now.
