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“Nor you, cowboy.” As she looked down at him, her heart squeezed hard. The truth was a bitter pill. She still loved him. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away angrily. No way in hell would she let him see what he had done to her...what he was doing to her again. She rotated her hips. “How does it feel to wait, Farris? Not so easy, is it?”
Now the granite jaw was back. He took control in an instant, rolling her to her back and taking what he wanted. “Nothing about you and me was ever easy,” he muttered.
His raw statement shook her. Even as her body responded to his expert touch, her heart wept. What was she doing?
When she was silent, Farris buried his face in her neck. “Don’t cry, Inkie, please. You’re killing me.”
She hadn’t even realized that a tear or two had escaped, running down her cheeks and into her hair. “I’m not,” she lied.
Farris slowed his wild motions. His big body trembled over hers. “I’m sorry, India. Sorry I hurt you so badly.”
“Empty apologies don’t interest me,” she said, her words blunt and not at all diplomatic in her pain. “You made our marriage impossible. You made us impossible. I’ll never forgive you for that.”
His gaze went blank, every emotion wiped away. All that remained was lust and domination. He took her again and again until she finally cried out in a second climax. Only then did he let himself come.
If tonight was a competition, Farris won.
They were as close as two people could be physically, but the chasm between them had widened. Turned out, sex for the sake of loneliness wasn’t so great when it was all over.
India wished desperately that they had been in Farris’s room. Then she could have walked out and shut the door behind her.
As it was, Farris was here. Big and warm and naked. And possibly half-asleep.
Now that the sexual insanity was over, her skin chilled. In their madness, they had thrown the covers aside. Even with Farris still half on top of her, she was cold.
When she shivered hard, Farris reared up on one hand and touched her shoulder. “Good Lord, India. Your skin is like ice.” He dragged the covers into place and then visited her bathroom. When he returned, he looked down at her, frowning. “You’re still not warm, are you?”
She shook her head. “No. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll put on some pajamas when you leave.” As hints went, it was pretty clunky and obvious.
Farris didn’t seem to notice. He crawled under the covers and spooned her. “Don’t be sad,” he whispered. The words tickled her ear. His strong arms enfolded her in blissful heat. In fact, his whole body encompassed hers. She could tell he was hard again, though he made no move to continue where they had left off.
“I’m not sad.” Again, she lied. “You gave me two orgasms,” she said, pretending to be smug. “How could anything be wrong?”
When she heard Farris’s regular breathing, she sneaked a glance at the clock on the bedside table. It was late, very late. How was she supposed to oust the man of the house from her bed? After all, this was technically his bed, too. He owned it all.
But he didn’t own India.
She dozed on and off, drifting in a blissful place where reality faded and her marriage still existed, intact and perfect. She must have still been dreaming when a warm, masculine hand cupped her breast and toyed with her nipple.
Moving restlessly, she made a choked sound of pleasure and placed her hand over his. “I’m tired,” she said, the words laced with petulance. Was she really? Or was she punishing him?
Farris nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Licking. Biting her earlobe.
India gasped as heat sparked in her veins. This was her chance. She could sit up, exit the bed, prove to both of them that she didn’t need this. She didn’t need him.
But the lure of drugged, liquid pleasure was impossible to resist. Drugged? Was that the right word? She was stone-cold sober. Yet she felt high, addicted to Farris.
Before she could process his intent, he had eased her onto her back. In one long-fingered hand, he trapped both her wrists and lifted them over her head.
His eyes were dark cobalt. The sizzle she felt in her bloodstream must have been ignited by the tiny flame in his pupils. He looked nothing like the suave businessman or even the easygoing cowboy.
Tonight, India’s ex-husband was a pirate, a seducer of innocent women. An irresistible bad boy.
She struggled against his grip. “Let me go,” she said indignantly. But the words held little heat.
Farris cocked his head and smiled, his grin a flash of white in the shadowy room. “No.”
“No?” She gaped at him.
