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There’s so much alpha in his voice. So much possession. He’s a straight-up jealous asshole, representing everything I despise. But fuck if I don’t love him like this—all aggressive and cocky. The man turns me on like no other.
That’s why he gets laid every day. Often multiple times a day. But I won’t give in to it now. Nope, not this time.
“You have more access than you deserve.” I squeeze my legs closed, hindering the movements of his hand.
“It’s not enough.” He pries my thighs apart. “Quit your job.”
“What?” My ears ring. “Have you lost your mind? We’ve talked about this.”
He wants a kept woman, and I refuse. I love being a nurse. I love my financial independence. Not only that, I’d go crazy being cooped up on this island by myself while he goes off to work every day. No, thank you.
“You can’t keep this baby and your job.” His gaze drills into mine as his fingers drill into my body.
“The fuck I can’t.” With heated breaths, I clutch his sinewy forearm, fighting, trying to escape his irresistible assault. “Stop.”
“Choose.” He lowers to his haunches and kisses along my inner thighs. “The baby or the job.”
“No! Fuck you.” I squirm and kick as his lips close around my center. “Go to hell, Monty. I don’t want…ahhhh!”
His mouth and fingers voraciously work my pussy, thawing my resistance into a squelching puddle of heat. My legs quake against his ears, and my hands twist in his gorgeous black hair.
My brain becomes a snarling, feral thing, trying to overpower the desire flooding the rest of me. But I can’t fight this. I can’t deny myself this pleasure, knowing it may be the last time I ever feel his sinful lips on me.
When I come, it’s such a violent release of emotion that I’m sobbing by the end of it. Maybe it’s pregnancy hormones. Maybe it’s shame. Or maybe it’s the foreboding that’s lodged deep in my gut.
The instant he spots my fresh tears, he’s in my face, his mouth ravishing my lips. I taste myself on his tongue and feel the tension in his jaw. I don’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer.
“Don’t cry.” He kisses me harder, angrier. “I’m sorry, Frankie. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He grips my neck and meets my eyes. “We’ll figure this out. Nothing’s decided.”
“You said some unforgivable shit.”
“I know, and we’ll talk about it. We’ll work through this. Just…please, stop crying.”
I breathe deeply, straightening my undies. Then I meet his hypnotic eyes. “Cancel your dinner meeting.”
“Done.”
“Stay home today.”
The muscles in his face tighten, and his hands fist on the counter on either side of me.
He’s so unfairly, unreasonably handsome. With his chiseled, expressive, masculine facial features, deep chest, and strong, muscular ass, he’s always reminded me of a stallion. Lord knows he’s built like one as if bred for nothing more than mating, competition, and hard physical work.
At forty-nine, he’s twenty years older than me yet somehow looks my age. Except right now, he seems older than he ever has before.
The stress of running a multi-billion-dollar global enterprise weighs heavily on his shoulders. Fine lines bracket the corners of his tense mouth, and new streaks of silver peek through the black hair at his temples.
As his eyes close and his athletic frame grows more rigid, my chest squeezes. I hate seeing him under such pressure. He has too much going on at work, and I’m not helping. If I push, maybe I can convince him to stay home. But it’ll only overtax him and make him even more cranky.
That’s the last thing I want. So I compromise.
“Fine.” I slip off the counter and duck past him. “Be home by six.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” He follows me out of the bathroom.
“If you care about this marriage—”
“I care about you.”
“Prove it.” I move to the window, taking in the steady downpour.
It rains 243 days per year here. Raining, snowing, there’s usually something spitting from the sky. I’m used to it, but sometimes, the boggy gloom makes the whole world feel heavier.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He crowds in against my back and bands his arms around my waist. His mouth strokes my neck, lightly kissing, taunting me with shivers. “We’ll get through this.”
Will we? Sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than me. I don’t glance back or give him any reaction.
“I can’t live without you, Frankie,” he rasps against my bare shoulder. “You’re my soul mate. Christ, I love you so much it scares me.”
He lingers, gliding his lips along my skin, seemingly reluctant to leave. When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t speak or slow his gait on the way out.
Coldness sweeps in, prickling my back. I want more than anything to feel his heat enveloping me again.
As his footsteps retreat down the hall, I mumble, “Love you, too.”
