Page 44 of Complete Me

Clara snuggled against his chest, releasing a deep sigh of contentment. This was where she belonged. No matter how stubborn she acted or the hoops she made him jump through, she was Alexander's. She had been from the moment she saw him in the lounge at the Oxford and Cambridge Club. Despite her desire that day to write him off as a bad boy, she had been drawn to him, inexplicably so. And nothing had ever been the same since. One brief moment, one stolen kiss and everything had changed. Clara had had a plan for her life and he had come along to upset the destiny she had laid out for herself.

She ran her palm over the slab of muscles that comprised his abdomen, her fingers pausing along the scars that snaked over his torso. Once he had hidden himself from her, showing her only glimpses of the darkness of his past and the burdens he carried inside him. Sometimes he regressed into those habits and it was her job to bring him back to the light. He caught her hand, grasping it with his and lingered over the scars. They were physical reminders of the accident that claimed his sister's life and set him on a trajectory toward her.

“You don't have to,” he said, hesitantly.

She wriggled her fingers free and brushed along the damaged tissue. “I want to. I want all of you, X. The beautiful and the ugly. The darkness and the light.”

“You already have it,” he vowed to her.

She rolled over and climbed on top, straddling his trim waist. Placing her hands over the scars, she rocked her hips until they made contact with his thickening cock. She kept her hands there as the two found each other naturally. His crest knocked gently at her entrance and she lifted herself just high enough to grant him access. Then Clara enveloped him slowly, losing herself to the sensation as he stretched delicate tissues.

In the past, Alexander had been too much for her. He brought too much emotion, too much pain, too much of him for her to handle. Now she accepted the beauty of their bittersweet relationship. She would never have enough of him—physically and spiritually. He completed her. Within her there was a void only he could fill.

Alexander’s hands closed over hers as he began to roll his hips in a steady, quickening rhythm.

“Be with me,” he called to her. “I want to see how beautiful you are when you’re riding my cock.”

She opened her eyes to find his trained on hers. As the first, white-hot emissaries of climax stole through her limbs, she cried out, riding through the fire under his lustful gaze. But before she could collapse against him, Alexander’s hands found her hips and provided the endurance she no longer had. Her body fought her, as her heart once had, but neither answered to her will any longer. When the friction built again, she exploded, taking him with her.

Clara flopped against the pillow in a boneless heap of limbs. Satiated didn't begin to describe how she felt. Clutching the sheet to her chest, she shot a mischievous glance at her husband.

“It's been a while,” she said breathlessly. Clara had grown accustomed to their daily lovemaking. Actually, most of the time, it was damn near hourly. It had been far too long since he had last taken her to bed and now she felt used and strained and sore—all in the best way possible.

“Ten days,” he informed her.

“Did you count the minutes, too?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. Trust it to Alexander to know how long he'd gone without claiming her body. She couldn’t help taking a little pleasure in knowing that he had missed her as much as she had missed him.

“Speaking of, we need to catch up,” he said, propping himself onto his elbow and casting his eyes upon her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Alexander’s gaze pierced through her, and Clara bit her lip, grinning sheepishly. “Maybe.”

It was pointless to hedge. From the looks on his face, he already knew, but his acknowledgement was the first true confirmation she had received. Her suspicions had begun to grow in the last few days but she'd been far too busy to see them through. Alexander reached over and circled her nipple with his fingertip lazily. Even the slight touch set her on edge. He was teasing, or rather, testing her body, and her response might have proven his theory.

“Well,” he prompted, “how far along are you?”

She resisted the urge to pull the sheet over her head.

“I don't know,” she whispered, daring an embarrassed grin instead.

“You don't know?” he repeated. “This sounds like a familiar story.”

“I've been a little busy.” Defensiveness overcame her. It wasn’t as if she had planned this, and he was the reason she’d been distracted anyway. Maybe he needed a reminder of that. “And I was mad at you.”

“That doesn't change the fact that you're pregnant, poppet.” Alexander's hand slid to cover her belly and laid his palm flatly against the soft tissue that would soon swell with life.

“For all I know, you just got me pregnant.” She informed him but with Alexander there to face facts, she knew that wasn't the case. The mood swings, the irritability, and the incessant urge to cry constantly, it was all there. Even Belle had bothered to point it out which made Clara wonder if her best friend suspected before she did.

“Even I’m not that skilled. Though it hurts to admit it.”

“How did you know anyway?” Clara asked. She'd had every reason to be upset with Alexander in London, so if he tried to pin it on that, he had another thing coming. No, Alexander hadn't been privy to the emotional gymnastics she’d put on for Belle and Edward. If he had guessed, there had been some other clue she was missing.

He pressed his lips into a bemused smile and shook his head. “No way.”

“Now you have to tell me,” she cried, picking up a pillow and beating him with it.

He released a tortured sigh before he tilted his head and admitted his source. “I can taste it.”

Clara blinked, trying to process this confession. “I'm not certain that's a good thing.”