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“Are you going to answer my question?”
“I thought I just did.”
“So you did hook up with someone?”
Waiting for his response was pure and utter torture until he finally revealed, “I haven’t fucked anyone since we got engaged.”
“You’re lying.”
“I can’t win with you, can I?”
“That’s all this is to you. It’s all I’ve ever been to you. One big game you can’t win.”
“You’re carrying my last name, kitten. I already won.”
“You always knew the right things to say.”
“So you love to remind me often.”
“Whatever.”
“That’s a mature response.”
“Considering you love to court women who are half your age, I think it’s actually pretty fitting.”
“I don’t usually fuck eighteen-year-olds. Twenty-one is more my speed.”
“Ugh. You disgust me.”
“I know what you’re doing, kitten.”
“Oh yeah? What am I doing, Captain Know-it-all?”
“You’re trying to pick a fight with me, thinking I won’t fuck you if you’re angry with me, but, kitten, you and I both know how much I love to hate fuck you.”
Before I could say one word.
One. Freaking. Word.
He slammed his mouth onto mine, instantly gripping onto my wrists and pulling them above my head. I panted into his mouth, frantically trying to gather my bearings from his tight, possessive hold, both on my lips and wrists. My body trembled with undeniable fire.
Every part of my resolve crumbled all around us.
Breaking.
Shutting down.
With my husband’s mouth against mine.
Weakly, I thrashed around. Ignoring the pain in my head and the throbbing in my heart. The damage he caused as he devoured my lips. Closing my eyes, I tried to steady my breathing, my thoughts, my core.
He loosened his grip, slowly brushing his lips against mine, and caused me to open my eyes. I saw all our memories fly through his gaze, one right after the other.
The first time we talked.
The first time he kissed me.
Touched me.
