Her body is warm.
And slick. And tight. And though it is difficult to think of anything, anything save the space in which they are connected, he can feel her lips fluttering about his neck, leaving tiny kisses about his jaw.
“Jem? Are you alright?”
It makes him start because he can’t help but think he’s supposed to be the one asking, but then he remembers that there is more to their anatomy than the lower half of their bodies, and realizes that her hand is locked on his trembling arm, holding it steady.
Jem had nearly collapsed from the reception festivities. Tessa had kissed his hand to silence his protests and told him that London’s rare sunlight made the nights long anyway. They would have time. So they slept first. And only when they awoke together did the wedding night really begin.
But begin it did.
“Yes. Oh, Angel yes. Are you?”
Her grin has all the promise of Heaven and the mischief of Hell.