Immortal Bride. Lisa Childs
He reached out and pressed a finger across her lips. “Shhh…” He sought to settle her nerves even as ones of his own rushed up to squeeze his chest. “Tonight is our first time.”
Beneath his finger her lips curved into a smile of amusement. “Damien…”
“Tonight is our first time as man and wife.” He moved his finger back and forth across the silkiness of her full lips. “Tonight is the first time I sleep with my bride….”
“This bride,” she murmured, her eyes soft with vulnerability.
Since he’d met her, which had actually been a few short months ago, he had witnessed only her strength and confidence. He had never glimpsed her insecurity until that moment.
Did she have doubts or regrets about marrying him? “Olivia?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head so that her hair swirled around her shoulders. “I shouldn’t have mentioned her—”
But now that she had, the pressure that had weighed on Damien for years returned. He shoved a hand through his hair and said, “Maybe we shouldn’t have come here.”
“You didn’t want to,” she reminded him. “I talked you into it.”
And he should have followed his gut instinct and stayed away from the lake. Hell, maybe he should have sold the house and property. Unlike Nathan and Olivia, with their fascination with the past, Damien preferred to leave it behind and move on to the future. But he and Olivia had met here at the lake, and so he had allowed himself to be persuaded to return for their honeymoon.
Their honeymoon.
He was the one who needed to move on, to let the past go and focus on the future. His future with Olivia.
“I intend to give you everything you want, Olivia,” he promised.
She gazed up at him, her blue eyes soft, and insisted, “I only want you.”
He lifted his hand and ran his thumb over the gold band on his finger. “You have me.”
“I’m greedy,” she said, her lips lifting in a smile again, but one that was more wistful than amused. “I want all of you.”
He had worried that she would want more from him than he could give. But yet he had proposed. Maybe it was the gambler in him that had compelled him to risk his heart again. Or maybe it was her.
“You have all of me,” he assured her. “I’m here.”
Not at the chain of casinos that usually consumed all his time and energy but that had rewarded him for his hard work and dedication with more money than he would ever be able to spend.
“And I’m with you—only you.” Because of her, he was able to move on beyond the pain of his past.
He pushed his fingers into her soft hair, cupping her head and tipping up her face so she’d meet his gaze. “You are everything to me.”
Her breath shuddered out in a warm caress against his throat and chin. “I love you. I love you.”
Damien, as a gambler, was used to taking risks. But he didn’t like to drop his poker face and reveal his hand. Too many times the other person had proved to be bluffing. But this was Olivia, and even though he hadn’t known her long, he felt he knew her well, well enough to trust her. “And I love you….”
“Prove it to me,” she challenged, shrugging off the white silk robe to leave her creamy shoulders bare but for the narrow straps of the gown. Through the thin lace, he caught glimpses of her body—the swell of her breasts, the shadow of her navel and her rosy areolas. Under his intense stare, her nipples hardened and penetrated the flimsy material.
He groaned. “That’s some gown.”
“Negligee.”
“Whatever it is, I like it,” he said as he slid his finger under one of the straps. “But I’d like it even more off you.”
“You’re the one with too many clothes on,” she complained, reaching for his tie, unknotting and then sliding it free of his shirt. Next she attacked the buttons, undoing them to bare his chest to her soft hands and softer lips.
His heart pounded hard beneath her mouth. He tangled his fingers in the silken strands of her hair and tugged gently so that her face tipped up to his. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth to hers. He nibbled first at her lips then deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue into the sweet warmth of her mouth, as he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside her body.
His blood was rushing through his veins as he slid his mouth from hers, over her delicate jaw to her neck. Her pulse pounded with a passion nearly as fierce as his. He moved his hands over the silk and lace covering her body, tracing the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips…
Then he cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs across the nipples protruding through the gown. When he replaced one thumb with his mouth, suckling through the lace and tugging gently with his teeth, Olivia moaned and tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing his head against her breasts. “Damien, please….”
He lifted his gaze to meet hers. The pale blue irises nearly swallowed by her enlarged pupils, she stared down at him. “Please,” she repeated, “give me everything….”
“Oh, I intend to,” he promised as he pushed the straps of the gown from her shoulders. The white lace slithered down her body, puddling at her feet, leaving her pale skin bare but for the flush of passion. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed and vowed, “I’m going to give you everything, Wife, and not just tonight….”
But for the rest of their lives. He had intended to spend his life making her happy, not mourning her loss.
That night had marked the beginning of their marriage and was supposed to have been the beginning of their life together. But less than a week later, before the honeymoon had ended, Olivia was dead.
Rubbing a slightly shaking hand over his face, he stared out the window again. A storm had rolled in with his turbulent memories. Dark clouds hung over the fog-enshrouded lake while thunder rumbled in the distance. Then lightning broke the clouds, illuminating the sky, the lake, the rocky shore—and her.
Olivia, wearing that same silk-and-lace gown he’d taken off her on their wedding night, walked along the shore. The lightning caught in her hair, making the long blond strands as luminescent as moonlight.
He pounded his fist against the curved glass and screamed her name: “Olivia!”
Lightning flashed, cutting through the mist to illuminate the rocky shore and the house on the hill above it—and the man standing at the window of the bedroom in the second story of the turret. Thunder drowned out his voice, but from the way he moved his lips, she could tell he screamed her name.
She froze on the shore, unable to move, her gaze locked with his. Then the dark clouds dropped closer to the earth, blocking the house and him from her vision. But her tension did not ease; she was as restless as the weather. The crisp spring wind whipped around the lake, shaking the boughs of the ancient pines. Thunder boomed with such force that the rocks on the shore beneath her trembled, and above her, the windows of the house rattled.
Then lightning cracked again, illuminating the house. But no one stood at the upstairs window anymore. Because now he stood—just a couple of yards—in front of her, his handsome face stark with shock as the color drained from his usually dark skin. “Olivia…?”
He could see her.
This was what she’d wanted, she reminded herself, as panic choked her. She had wanted him to see her. She had needed him to see her to exact her revenge.
But when he lifted his arms and reached for her, the panic turned to fear. And she spun around, running along the shore.
“Olivia!”
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