~Alistair's POV~
Alex looked up, his expression a mix of desperation and playful manipulation. "Please? Be nice to your husband, baby. It's our wedding day. Don't you want to make me happy?"
I stood there, torn between the desire to please him now and the need to keep this day perfect. I didn't know if I should give in or hold my ground.
Alex was always my greatest weakness. Before I could even find the words to hold my ground, he moved.
"Alex, my clothes... they'll get wrinkled," I murmured, but it was a losing battle.
"I'll be careful, I promise," he whispered against my skin. "We have time, Alis. Just a moment for us."
His hands were deft and sure, moving with a familiar hunger that made my protests melt into soft sighs. He worked slowly, mindful of the expensive fabric but driven by a need that seemed even more intense given the weight of the day. One by one, layers were shed until the cool air of the room hit my skin, leaving me in nothing but my boxers.
