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“What do you mean, trouble?” She sat up, glaring back at him. “I am not trouble! I’m a very nice person except when I have to deal with jerks!”
“You’re the worst kind of trouble,” he snapped. “You’re marrying trouble.”
Considering three men had already found better things to do than marry her, that wasn’t the most tactful comment he could have made. It was especially hurtful coming from a man who had just given her three explosive orgasms. She snatched up the pillow and whacked him on the head with it, then bolted out of bed.
“I can take care of that problem for you,” she said, fuming as she searched the dark bedroom for her bra and shirt. Damn it, where was the light switch? “Since I’m so much trouble, I’ll stay on my side of the driveway and you can stay the hell on your side of the driveway!” She was shouting by the time she was finished. There—that white blur might be her bra. She swooped down on it and picked it up, but it was a sock. A smelly sock. She threw it at him. He swatted it aside and lunged out of bed, reaching for her.
“What did you do with my damn clothes!” she bellowed at him, evading his outstretched hand and storming around the room in the dark. “And where’s the damn light switch?”
“Would you settle down!” he said, sounding suspiciously as if he were snorting with laughter.
He was laughing at her. Tears stung her eyes. “Hell, no, I won’t settle down!” she shouted, and swung toward the door. “You can keep the damn clothes, I’ll walk home naked before I stay here with you another minute, you insensitive jerk—”
A hard-muscled arm locked around her waist and sent her airborne. She shrieked, arms flailing; then she bounced on the bed and the air left her lungs with a “whoof.”
She had time to suck in just a little air before Sam landed on her, his heavy weight flattening her and forcing another exhalation. He was laughing as he subdued her with ridiculous ease; in five seconds flat she couldn’t wiggle anything.
To her astonishment and rage, she discovered he had another erection; it throbbed against her closed thighs. If he thought she would open her legs for him again after—
He shifted, expertly pressed with his knee, and her legs opened anyway. Another shift and he slid smoothly inside her, and she wanted to scream because he felt so good and she loved him and he was a jerk. Her lousy luck with men was still holding.
She burst into tears.
“Ah, babe, don’t cry,” he said soothingly, moving gently inside her.
“I will if I want to,” she sobbed as she clung to him.
“I love you, Jaine Bright. Will you marry me?”
“No way in hell!”
“You have to. You owe me your next paycheck for all the cussing you’ve done tonight. You won’t have to pay up if we get married.”
“There’s no rule like that.”
“I just made one.” He framed her head with his big hands and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, wiping away the tears.
“You said shit.”
“What else is a man supposed to say when he sees his glorious bachelor days coming to a swift and ignominious end?”
“You’ve been married before.”
“Yeah, but that didn’t count. I was too young to know what I was doing. I thought fucking was the same as loving.”
She wished he would be still. How could he carry on a conversation while doing what he was doing to her? No—she wished he would shut up, and keep doing exactly what he was doing, except maybe a little faster. And a little harder.
He kissed her temple, her jaw, the almost-dent in her chin. “I always heard that sex was different with a woman you loved, but I didn’t believe it. Sex was sex. Then I got inside you and it was like sticking my cock in an electrical outlet.”
“Oh. Was that what all that shaking and yelling was about?” She sniffled, but she was paying attention.
“Smart-ass. Yeah, that’s what it was about, not that I was the only one doing some shaking and yelling. It was different. Hotter. Stronger. And when it was over, I wanted to do it all over again.”
“You did do it all over again.”
“That proves it, then. For God’s sake, I’ve already come twice and here I am hard again. That’s either a fucking miracle, no pun intended, or it’s love.” He kissed her mouth, slowly and deeply, using his tongue. “Watching you throw a temper tantrum always gets me hard.”
“I don’t throw tantrums. Why is it when a man gets mad, he’s aaangry, but when a woman gets mad, it’s just a tantrum?” She paused, struck by what he’d said. “Always?”
