Hailee's POV
The heavy oak doors of our suite clicked shut, instantly muffling the distant music and laughter of the reception. The room was transformed—a sanctuary of flickering candlelight and the heady, sweet scent of hundreds of crushed white rose petals scattered across the floor and the silk duvet.
I stood in the center of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs, not from fear, but from a wild, mounting anticipation.
I heard his footsteps first—slow, deliberate, and heavy. Then I felt the heat of him radiating against my back.
Nathan didn't say a word at first. He reached around me, his large, calloused hands finding the delicate zipper of my wedding dress. His knuckles grazed my spine, sending a violent shiver through my frame.
"You've been teasing me with this dress all day, Hailee," he whispered, his breath hot against the sensitive curve of my neck. "Do you have any idea what it did to me, watching you walk down that aisle?"
