Page 67 of Bound To Be Mine

“You,” I panted. “I want you inside me. Now.”

He withdrew his fingers, positioning himself at my entrance. Our eyes met and I was suddenly very aware of the intimacy of the moment.

Then he pushed inside me, slow and steady, giving me time to adjust to his size. I gasped at the stretch, at the fullness, at the perfect way he filled me.

“Oh shit,” he groaned. “Fuck.”

He pulled back almost all the way out, then thrust back in, harder this time. I cried out and arched my back.

“Like that?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Exactly like that,” I moaned.

He set a rhythm that had me climbing fast. Each thrust hit something deep inside me that made my toes curl. His mouth found mine again, swallowing my moans as he drove into me harder and faster. He angled his hips and drove in before shifting the angle and doing it again.

I could feel the tension building low in my belly, coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke. My hands roamed over his back, feeling his muscles flex and strain as he worked above me.

I was embarrassed by how fast I was reaching a climax. I couldn’t stop it. I was so close. My body trembled on the verge of an explosion.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Come for me, Mandy. Let me feel it.”

I cried out and exploded like a star that reached the end of its celestial life. I came hard, my body clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through me. I cried out his name with my body bucking over and over. I heard him make a noise that was pure primal energy.

And then his body stiffened, pinning me beneath him. More cursing and then he fell on top of me. We lay tangled together, both of us breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. I didn’t want him to move. Not yet.

But eventually, he did. He rolled off me, disposing of the condom before settling back beside me. We lay there in silence for a long moment, staring at the ceiling.

“No regrets?” he asked.

I considered the question. Did I regret sleeping with my fake husband?

“No,” I said honestly. “No regrets.”

He smiled. “Good.”

“I’m flying back tomorrow,” I said. “I have a wedding this weekend. In LA. I need to get back and start prepping.”

I rolled off the bed and started to collect my clothes. I didn’t regret it, but I needed to embrace reality.

Briggs propped himself up on one elbow, watching me dress. “I have depositions. I have to get back to New York too.”

I pulled my shirt over my head. “So the honeymoon’s over, huh?”

He laughed. “Shortest honeymoon in history.”

“We should probably figure out when we’re going to see each other again,” I said, stepping into my shorts. “People are going to expect us to act like an actual married couple. That requires being in the same city occasionally.”

“True.” He stood and pulled on his boxers. “I’ll check my schedule. See when I can fly out to LA.”

“Or I could come to New York,” I offered. “I haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He walked over to me, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “This doesn’t have to be complicated.”

But even as he said it, I could feel the complication settling between us. We’d just had amazing sex. Which made everything infinitely more complicated.

“Right,” I said, forcing a smile. “Not complicated.”

I fluffed my hair.