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She pulled her mouth from his and turned her head to the side as her hands pressed against his chest in an effort to hold him back. “Jeff,” she tried again and this time, he snapped to attention.
“What?” he questioned in a tone so abrupt, so impatient that it almost crushed her.
“Where—where’s the condom? We need a condom.”
His eyes narrowed into slits of ice. “What the hell for?”
Horrified, she tried to swallow, tried to breathe, even as temptation made it almost impossible not to lift her hips to his. “You know why. I’ll get pregnant.”
“Yeah, so?” he asked, as if a possible pregnancy was a given—and something he wasn’t opposed to. What the hell?
“So—so, I don’t want to get pregnant,” she said in the firmest tone she could muster. “I thought we agreed that I didn’t want to get pregnant and that you didn’t want to get me pregnant.”
His expression shifted into lines of confusion mixed with frustration. “That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before we got married.” His muscles corded as his shoulders seem to grow a mile wide with the words that sounded like a declaration. “Now we’re married.”
Seriously? “That doesn’t mean I suddenly want to get pregnant.”
At her outburst, he kneed her thighs farther apart with a strength that was unmistakable—and a growl that went along with it. She almost came unglued at his action, her heart began hammering so fiercely she could barely breathe steadily. Sliding her hand down with speed, she covered her mound in protection—the only protection she had available.
He reacted by grasping both wrists and pulling them up on either side of her head and holding her staked to the bed—the head of his erection finding her core like a heat-seeking missile and holding himself there, just at her entrance.
Shock and horror permeated her entire being.
She began panting and trembling and panicking all at once, but attempted with everything she had to get a grip. “Jeff, I don’t want to get pregnant,” she enunciated through gritted teeth. “You do this and I’ll be back at that courthouse in a heartbeat, filing for divorce—I’m telling you ‘no’,” she asserted, challenging him because she damn well meant it.
At the word, ‘divorce’, he looked gutted, like he knew he couldn’t do what he wanted, but still, he hovered at her entrance. She was surprised to feel a tiny stroke of sympathy for him—he obviously wanted something deeper with her, already. But he had to understand, this couldn’t be the way he went about it.
The seconds ticked by and she relaxed somewhat, knowing now that he wasn’t going to do something stupid, something irreparable to their brand new marriage. Pressing her point, she bit her bottom lip and asked softly, “Do you want this marriage? Because the choice you make now will seal it either way.” She reached up and nipped his lips, just once, her head falling back to the pillow. “I want this marriage,” she gave him, letting him see her heart in her eyes, “Please don’t ruin it before it starts.”
His expression shifted, a look of agonized guilt coming over his features before he lifted from the bed with a jerky motion and sought out a condom from his jeans pocket. Ripping the package with his teeth and sliding it down his length in a display of rampaging masculinity that almost stalled her heart, he snapped out, “Don’t want to talk about this right now.”
And then he was on the bed again. He was between her thighs in another instant and holding her wrists trapped to the bed once again. “Happy now?” he thundered out in a menacing snarl.
While she wasn’t exactly happy, she was damn sure relieved, and that relief made her pliable in his arms once again. She bit her lip and nodded her head, holding his eyes—she had won the battle; with time, she could and would tame this barbarian. He released her wrists and moved his palms to hers, threading his fingers through hers, holding her hands, his grip going from brutal to merely controlling. But still, she didn’t feel powerless or helpless as he monopolized and dominated her.
He’d put on protection at her request and that was all it seemed to take to put her under his sexual spell once again. Really, Janet? She felt the head of his erection finding her as he sank in an inch before looking directly at her, his eyes penetrating. “Ready now, baby?”
She licked her lips, feeling herself softening for him as heat exploded, making her lift her hips toward him. “Yes.”
“That’s damn good, Mrs. McIntyre, because you’ve got me stretched to the limit of my patience.” With that, he surged inside with one forceful, penetrating stroke that stalled her heart.
He held still for just a moment, allowing her to adjust. Releasing one hand, he tilted her face up to his. Reaching down, his lips found hers and he kissed her, a kiss that almost annihilated her, a kiss that made her want to stay right where she was, with him, forever.
Slowly, he began stroking into her body as his tongue continued to stroke inside her mouth. She felt her world shift as his impatience seemed to ebb away and was replaced with something just a bit calmer, a bit more rational.
He lifted his face and when she opened her eyes, she found him staring down at her. His look was possessive, his expression one of satisfaction. But there was also something else there, something that charmed and bewitched her: He looked mesmerized, like she was the one thing he sought above all else.
He continued stroking; he was large and thick and stretched her with every repetitive motion—stretched her in a good way. It was making her spine tingle, heat clamoring in her veins to be let loose, ecstasy only a moment away.
She’d never come with him quite this way before. He always made her come first, with his tongue and fingers. This was sheer heaven as her hips lifted toward him, finding him, then slamming together and away again, hot skin against hot skin as her juices began overflowing. The musky smell of sweat began to permeate the air and it only added to the excitement building in her system.
He reached between them and found her clit. Her pulse skittered as her body grew heavy and warm. The coil between her thighs tightened as he stroked her, pinching her and rubbing her just perfectly. She bit her lip and tried not to make a sound. And then she remembered they were alone and she didn’t have to be quiet. It was all she needed to know to make her split in two, stars rushing before her eyes as a cry broke from her lips.
She was vaguely aware of the sound of lust and satisfaction that came from his throat as he began surging
into her more forcefully. Repeatedly. Aggressively. Looking for his own orgasm. She couldn’t help but open her eyes and what she found above her was magnificent. His neck was held rigid in ripples of straining muscle, his teeth clenched and his jaw clamped into chiseled stone. He was like a stallion mating, the force of his thrusts battering her to the bed.
And yet she wasn’t scared. Not anymore. She was enthralled as she watched him. He was so beautiful, so utterly masculine, and so hers.
He began to come. She recognized the noises he made, she recognized the expressions that changed on his face as he reached his own peak. As she watched the display of erotic masculine beauty above her, she thought she fell just a little bit in love.
As she allowed the small spark to flare, she again prayed she was doing the right thing by allowing the feeling to surface.
Sometimes you just had to take the jump, you know?
****
“Janet,” she heard from a place between consciousness and sleep, “Wake up, baby.” Jeff’s deep voice spoke just above her ear at the same moment she felt a blunt fingertip trail down her spine.
Her eyes came open as memory returned. She’d married the man. Shifting around, she flipped over and soon found herself caged underneath him, his arms on either side of her head.
The smile on his face said it all. Erotic and enticing, his lips were twisted in a way that was telling her that he was ready again. She couldn’t help it, she smiled back. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” he rumbled.
He began to pin her down, yet again, but she had to protest. “I need to pee,” she whispered.
“Do you now?” he teased.
“Yes.”
He got off the bed and with an exaggerated flare of his arm, indicated the bathroom, as if giving her permission to leave him for a moment.
She jumped off the bed and as she moved past him, she noticed the towel wrapped around his hips and the dampness of his hair. She grabbed her overnight case and barricaded herself in the bathroom. After doing her business, she jumped into the shower for a quick wash and shampoo.
