Sweet as Honey (The Seven Sisters) - By Caitlyn Robertson Page 0,3

on his chest. She already knew he’d be good in bed—he couldn’t be anything but, with his sexy smile and gentle yet commanding police officer manner. She was pretty sure he’d be able to talk her into an orgasm with that deep voice and the hot look in his eyes.

But still, she couldn’t quite imagine what it was going to feel like to finally sleep with him, to have his weight pressing her into the bed, him sliding inside her…

Jeez, any more thoughts like that and she was going to come there and then, under the bougainvillea. She tore her mouth away, tipped her head back on the wall and closed her eyes. “Oh God, I never thought it would be this hard.”

He chuckled. “That’s not a complaint I expected.” He kissed her neck and touched his tongue to her pulse point.

She pushed him away. “Stop it. Seriously. Not while you’re wearing the uniform. I can’t cope.”

He smirked. “I’m bringing it on the honeymoon.”

“I’d be very disappointed if you didn’t.”

He laughed and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin. “Only one more week, sweetheart. We can last that long.”

She put her arms around him, and he hugged her. Emotion washed over her again. She was so lucky to have found him. Every day she thanked heaven she’d been serving on the morning he’d come in for coffee. She’d made his latte while he waited, and her cheeks had glowed when, every time she looked up, she saw him watching her, a slight smile on his face.

She’d placed two chocolate fishes on top of the takeaway cup and passed it across to him, heart thumping.

“Two fish?” He raised an eyebrow. “I only got one last week from your dark-haired friend over there.”

“We’re all sisters,” she said, “and that’s inflation for you. Next week you get a three course meal and a ticket to The Hobbit.”

He’d started laughing and put his hat back on, and that was it—she was won.

He’d stayed long enough to ask her out for a drink, and within six weeks they were engaged. That was nearly five months ago. A long time to wait to get him into bed.

She bit her lip, the familiar doubt fluttering in her stomach like butterflies. She didn’t voice her concerns often, but for once—maybe because she missed her mother and was feeling emotional, maybe because there was only a week to go and she was starting to panic—she needed reassurance. “Do you still think we did the right thing, waiting?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Of course.” Cupping her face with a hand, he brushed her cheek with his thumb. “What’s up, sweetheart? We’ve lasted six months—why would you think now it’s been a mistake? Is this to do with your mum?”

Her throat tightened, but she shook her head. “No. It’s just…six months is a long time for a man to wait. I hope…” She swallowed. “I hope you think I was worth it.”

Pity crossed his face, and he kissed her hair. “Is this about Ian?”

The coldness that always slid down inside her like an ice cube whenever she thought about her ex made her shiver.

Dex pulled back to look at her and stroked her hair. “Come on, we talked about this. He only has power over you if you give it to him.”

“I know, but…” Nausea rose at the thought of Ian’s hard, dark gaze fixed on her as he prepared to impart some criticism. “I didn’t realise, but I’d started to forget the way he made me feel. That constant worry—as if something heavy sat on my chest. Feeling nervous and insecure all the time. It makes my skin crawl. I can’t believe I dated him for so long.”

She dropped her gaze to look at her hands. It felt important to make him comprehend how strong her feelings were about this. “I know everyone thinks I was weak for staying with him. My family doesn’t understand. But I’m not weak, Dex. It was like he had some kind of power over me. I know it sounds like I’m making excuses for not being independent and a modern woman—but at the time, I believed everything he said. I suppose it was because it happened over a long time—it wasn’t as if the day he met he started telling me what to do.”

“I know.”

“It was like a disease that gradually make me sicker, or like gorse spreading through a garden. It wasn’t until the end I realised how much he’d taken over,