AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Internally, he swore, and then pushed at her sweater, lifting it over her head and tossing it to the floor; dispensing with her bra soon after.
His mouth dropped to take one perfect, peach nipple into his mouth and he sucked on it, rolling his tongue over its sensitive tip until her whimpering had become a steady noise in the background. His cock rolled against her and she cried out, her hands tangling in his hair.
“Say ‘yes’,” he demanded, one hand pushing at her still unbuttoned jeans even as she stood out of them, her body moving to free her of clothing with the same need that was tormenting him.
“Say ‘yes’,” he demanded again, rolling her underpants down her legs before undoing his belt and trousers.
“To what?” she pushed at his pants, freeing his arousal, and he almost groaned for how good it felt to be free of the restraint of his cotton pants. Her fingers curved around his length and some of his speed spilled from his tip; his need for her was eating him alive.
“To me. To this.”
“I…”
“Don’t fight me,” he murmured, dropping his mouth to hers. “Please just say ‘yes’.”
She made a guttural sobbing noise and then she was nodding, the word ‘yes’ dropping from her lips again and again.
And with the greatest sense of relief he’d ever known, he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist as he drove himself deep inside of her, and she bucked hard, crying out at his total and devastating possession of her body. He held her cradled around his waist and he sucked on her nipple, and then transferred to the other, his whole body existing only for this.
And when she fell apart in his arms, her body fevered and writhing as though her blood were flames, he tipped himself into her; he filled her with his pleasure and seed, and his cries mingled with her own, and then there was a thick silence, heavy with the agreement she’d given him, and their mutual understanding of what would come next.
CHAPTER FOUR
“YOU NEVER TOLD ME why you were at the wedding,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes as she had been for the last fifteen minutes, since climbing off his body and looking around her kitchen with the strangest sense that nothing would ever be the same again.
Had she actually agreed to marry him?
Yes.
She had.
And the marriage made complete sense.
What else could she do?
He was the father of this child, and they both had the means and the commitment to fight for this baby, to fight to have it in their lives.
But that’s not why she’d agreed. At least, that wasn’t the only reason. There was sense and common decency, and then there was the explosive, passionate lust that had threatened to rip her to shreds unless she indulged it. There was the way he looked at her and set fire to her bloodstream, the way his touch was enough to incinerate all her best intentions.
There was want, as well as obligation.
“No, I didn’t,” he drawled, his intense watchfulness thrilling and alarming all at once.
Bella knew people considered her beautiful. She’d dyed her hair brown after her first failed marriage. No, she’d dyed her hair brown in response to the guilt of what she’d done to Xavier’s life with her lie. She’d run from the woman she’d been, and she’d wondered if, with shorter brown hair, she’d somehow be less interesting to the opposite sex than when her long, white blonde mane had cascaded down her slender back in rolling waves.
It had made little difference.
And though she was used to the mostly unwanted attention of the male gender, nothing and no one had ever made her feel quite like this man.
Her ex-husband, Xavier Salbatore, was undeniably handsome as well, and now she thought about it, he bore a similar ruthless arrogance and charm. She’d loved Xave, she’d loved him like a brother and a best friend, but she’d never craved him like this. She’d never craved him at all – that wasn’t what their relationship had been about.
Desire, like this, was terrifying and addictive in equal measure.
“Are you going to?” She asked, swallowing, and now forcing her gaze to slip to his, then wishing she hadn’t when desire charged her nerve endings once more.
She turned away from him, looking at her fridge with an odd sense of disconnect. Her life – this life she’d made for herself in Scotland, so she could be near her aunt – seemed tenuous now, her connection to it weakening with each second that passed, dragging her closer to a future in which she was married to this man – a man she knew very little about and yet somehow felt completely confident to tie herself to.
“Does it matter?”
