The door to the honeymoon suite swung open with a dramatic thud, and Elise strode in like she owned the place—hell, after the day they’d had, she might as well have. The lavish hotel suite was a vision of decadence: rose petals scattered across the floor like a crimson carpet, champagne chilling in a silver bucket, and a king-sized bed that practically screamed for debauchery. The air was thick with the scent of roses and anticipation, and Elise, still in her ivory wedding gown, turned to Ryan with a smirk that could melt steel.
“Well, husband,” she purred, her voice dripping with mischief as she kicked off her heels with a deliberate clatter. “You made it through the ceremony without fainting. I’m almost impressed.”
Ryan, still tugging at his bow tie like it was a noose, stumbled in behind her, his cheeks flushed from the reception’s endless toasts and, admittedly, her relentless teasing all night. He grinned sheepishly, running a hand through his tousled dark hair. “Hey, I only tripped once on your train. That’s a win in my book.”
Elise arched a perfectly sculpted brow, crossing her arms under her chest, which—Ryan couldn’t help but notice—pushed the neckline of her dress to dangerous limits. “A win? Darling, you nearly face-planted into Father Michael’s lap during the vows. I’m pretty sure he’s still praying for your soul.”
Ryan laughed, a nervous edge to it, as he finally freed himself from the bow tie and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Can you blame me? You were standing there looking like... well, like *that*. I forgot how to walk for a second.”
“Oh, flattery will get you everywhere,” Elise shot back, her green eyes glinting with amusement as she sauntered toward the champagne bucket. She plucked the bottle from the ice with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly how to handle anything—or anyone. “But let’s be real, Ryan. You were shaking like a leaf up there. I thought I was marrying a man, not a nervous puppy.”
He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched her pop the cork with a satisfying *thwack*. Foam spilled over the rim, and she didn’t even flinch, catching a stray droplet on her finger and sucking it off with a pointed look that made his knees weak. “Okay, okay, I was nervous,” he admitted, holding up his hands in surrender. “But marrying you? That’s like signing up for a roller coaster with no safety bar. Thrilling, but terrifying.”
Elise let out a sharp, delighted laugh, pouring two flutes of champagne with the precision of a general commanding troops. She handed him one, her fingers brushing his just long enough to send a jolt through him. “Good answer. But let’s get one thing straight, sweetheart,” she said, her tone suddenly low and commanding, her gaze locking with his. “I don’t do terrified. You’re mine now, and I expect you to keep up. Starting tonight.”
Ryan swallowed hard, the champagne flute trembling slightly in his hand. “Keep up? Elise, I’m already three steps behind, and we’ve only been married for six hours.”
“Exactly,” she replied, taking a slow sip of her drink, her lips curling around the rim in a way that was anything but innocent. “So let’s catch you up. Step one: lose the jacket. You look like a penguin who got lost on the way to a gala.”
He chuckled, setting his glass down on the marble counter and shrugging off his tuxedo jacket with a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. Anything else, General Elise?”
“Oh, plenty,” she said, stepping closer, the hem of her gown brushing against his legs as she reached up to undo the top button of his dress shirt. Her fingers were deft, her touch deliberate, and her eyes never left his. “Step two: stop acting like you’re defusing a bomb every time you touch me. I’m your wife, not a landmine.”
Ryan’s breath hitched as her fingers lingered on his collar, her nails grazing his skin just enough to make his pulse race. “I’m trying, okay? But you’re... intimidating. In the best way possible.”
“Intimidating?” Elise tilted her head, a predatory smile playing on her lips as she undid another button, then another, her movements slow and torturous. “Good. I like keeping you on your toes. Or, better yet, on your knees. We’ll get to that later.”
His eyes widened, a mix of shock and arousal flashing across his face. “Elise, you’re gonna kill me before the honeymoon even starts.”
“Only if you’re lucky,” she quipped, stepping back to admire her handiwork. His shirt hung open now, revealing a glimpse of the toned chest beneath, and she gave an approving nod. “Not bad, husband. But let’s see if you can handle the rest without tripping over your own feet.”
Ryan grinned, emboldened by her challenge, and reached for the buckle of his belt. “Oh, I’ve got this. Watch and learn, Mrs. Carter.”
“Bold words,” Elise teased, crossing her arms again and leaning against the edge of the bed, her posture all authority and allure. “But I’ve seen you try to dance tonight. I’m not holding my breath.”
He laughed, fumbling with the belt for a moment before finally getting it loose. “Hey, I’ve got moves. You just haven’t seen the good ones yet.”
“Prove it,” she shot back, her voice a sultry dare as she watched him with hawk-like intensity. “Pants off. Now. Let’s see if you can manage that without a disaster.”
Ryan, determined to match her energy, gave her a playful wink and started to slide his tuxedo pants down, stepping out of them with what he thought was suave confidence. But the universe had other plans. His foot caught on the cuff, and in a spectacular display of clumsiness, he stumbled forward, arms flailing like a windmill before he caught himself on the edge of the bed—barely.
Elise burst into laughter, doubling over as she clutched her sides, tears of mirth glistening in her eyes. “Oh my God, Ryan! I knew I married you for entertainment, but this is next-level!”
He groaned, face buried in the duvet for a moment before he looked up, red-faced but grinning. “Okay, fine, laugh it up. I’m still standing, aren’t I?”
“Barely,” she managed between giggles, straightening up and wiping her eyes. She stepped over to him, her laughter fading into a wicked smile as she grabbed his chin, tilting his face up to meet her gaze. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take it from here. You’ve clearly proven you can’t be trusted with gravity.”
Ryan opened his mouth to protest, but the look in her eyes—fierce, commanding, and undeniably hungry—silenced him. Elise was in charge now, and as she pushed him back onto the bed with a firm hand, he knew the real wedding night was just beginning.
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