Chapter 116 116. Lace and Desire

Chapter 116 116. Lace and Desire
The mansion had finally fallen silent.

Hazel climbed the stairs beside her husband, her body aching with the sweet exhaustion of a day well spent. George was finally asleep, his small body curled around his new red race car, his face peaceful in slumber. Nathan was in his bassinet, his tiny chest rising and falling with each delicate breath.

Michele's hand found hers as they reached the master suite, his fingers interlacing with hers, his thumb stroking her knuckles. The door clicked shut behind them and the world outside faded away.

Hazel crossed to the vanity, her fingers reaching up to remove her earrings. The mirror reflected her image, her brown wavy hair cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes soft with contentment, her lips curved in a satisfied smile.

She felt him before she saw him. Michele's arms wrapped around her from behind, his chest pressing against her back, his lips finding the curve of her neck. His breath was warm against her skin, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her entire body.

"God, I missed you," he murmured, his lips trailing along her shoulder. "I missed you in my arms. I missed the way you feel against me. I missed the way you smell. I missed everything."

Hazel's eyes fluttered closed, her body melting into his embrace. Her head fell back against his shoulder, her lips parting as his teeth grazed her sensitive skin. "I missed you too," she breathed. 

"I thought about you every night," he continued, his voice rough with desire. "Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. I imagined coming home to you."

Hazel turned in his arms, her hands finding his chest, her eyes meeting his. "You're home now. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, nor am I letting you go anywhere."

His lips descended on hers, the kiss deep and claiming. His tongue swept against her lower lip, coaxing it apart and when she opened for him, he delved inside with a passion that stole her breath. His hands roamed her body, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, the dip of her spine.

"I got something for you," he murmured against her lips.

Hazel's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "A gift? Michele, you didn't have to…"

"I wanted to. Close your eyes," he interrupted, his grin wolfish. 

She complied, her heart racing with anticipation. She heard him cross the room, heard the rustle of wrapping paper, felt his presence return beside her.

"Open your eyes."

Hazel took the packet from him and opened the wrapping paper. Seeing it, her breath caught in her throat. 

It had a slip dress in the softest champagne-ivory shade, the fabric a delicate lace that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. The neckline was a structured sweetheart shape, with lightly molded bust cups that promised definition without heaviness. Two thin, adjustable spaghetti straps extended over the shoulders and the fabric was covered in an all-over lace pattern, a repeating floral and geometric motif that was both delicate and provocative.

The dress fell to the upper thigh, ending in a clean, straight hem that mirrored the simplicity of the overall design. But it was the back that made Hazel's pulse quicken, a dramatic low-cut open back, a narrow horizontal band stretching across the upper back like a bra strap, fastening with a small clasp. Below this band, the dress curved downward in a deep scoop before fitting snugly around the waist and hips. There were no sleeves, no ruffles, no bows, no embroidery, no sequins. Just pure, elegant, devastatingly sensual simplicity.

"It's beautiful," Hazel whispered, her fingers reaching out to touch the delicate fabric. 

"Put it on," he said, his voice low and rough. "I want to see you in it."

Hazel's smile was radiant, her cheeks flushed with anticipation. She took the dress from him, her fingers lingering against his. She disappeared into the closet, the door clicking shut behind her. Michele watched her go, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Hazel stood before the full-length mirror, her breath catching at her reflection. The dress fit her like a second skin, the delicate lace hugging her curves in all the right places. The sweetheart neckline accentuated the fullness of her breasts, the molded cups providing lift and definition. The fabric skimmed her waist, her hips, falling to mid-thigh in a hem that promised both elegance and temptation.

But it was the back that made her gasp. The open design revealed the length of her spine, the delicate curve of her shoulders, the subtle dip of her lower back. The narrow band stretched across her upper back, holding the dress in place, leaving most of her skin exposed.

She looked like a goddess. A seductive, untouchable goddess.

She stepped out of the closet, her bare feet silent against the marble floor. The room was transformed, candles flickered on every surface, casting dancing shadows across the walls. The lights were dimmed, the soft glow creating an intimate cocoon.

Michele stood on the terrace, a glass of wine in each hand. His eyes found her and his breath caught in his throat. "Holy fuck!" he breathed, his voice barely audible. "Hazel..."

She crossed to him, her hips swaying, her smile knowing. "Do you like it?"

"Like it?" He set down the glasses, his hands finding her waist. "I don't like it, bunny. I love it. I love the way it looks on you. I love the way it hugs your curves. I love the way it makes me want to tear it off you."

Hazel's laugh was low and wicked. "Patience, Mr. Richardson. The night is young."

They settled onto the plush chaise lounge on the terrace, the city lights twinkling in the distance like scattered diamonds. Hazel was perched on Michele's lap, her legs draped over his, her body pressed against his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare thigh, the delicate lace of her dress bunching beneath his touch. His lips found her neck, trailing soft kisses along her collarbone.

"I thought about this every night," he murmured against her skin. "Every single night. I imagined holding you like this. Touching you like this. Tasting you like this."

Hazel's eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back against his shoulder. "Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me what you imagined."

His hand slid higher, his fingers finding the hem of her dress. "I imagined coming home to you," he said, his voice low and rough. "I imagined carrying you to our bed. I imagined worshiping every inch of you."

Hazel's breath hitched as his fingers traced the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "And what else?"

"I imagined hearing you scream my name," he continued, his lips brushing her ear. "I imagined feeling you come apart around me. I imagined the way you'd look at me after."

"I am yours," she breathed, her hands tangling in his hair.

His lips found hers, the kiss slow and deep. His tongue swept against hers, tasting her, claiming her. His hands roamed her body, tracing the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

"I want to taste you," he murmured against her lips. "I want to feel you come apart on my tongue. I've been dreaming about it for a week."

Hazel's heart raced, her body trembling with anticipation. "Then take me, Michele. I'm yours. Take whatever you want."

His eyes roamed her body, his gaze burning with hunger. "You're so beautiful," he breathed. "So fucking beautiful."

His lips found her neck, trailing down her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. His fingers found the clasp of her dress, unfastening it with practiced ease.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin. 

"I love you too, Michele. More than anything."

His lips descended on hers, the kiss fierce and claiming. The night stretched on, the candles flickering, the city lights twinkling in the distance and in that moment, surrounded by candlelight and love, Hazel knew that she had everything she'd ever wanted.

This was her family. Her home. Her forever.