Page 58 of Reckless Bride


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“Good morning,” I say softly. “You smell like smoke.”

“Good morning.” He rolls onto his back and sighs. “I showered. Twice.”

“What did you do last night?”

“Started my revenge.” He shifts back to face me. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” I say, yawning.

“The baby? Any symptoms? The doctor said—”

“I’m fine.” I touch his chest again, not thinking about how intimate the gesture is. I can’t seem to keep my hands away from him. “Seriously. I feel totally fine. A little bit sore, but better than yesterday.”

He looks visibly relieved. “I had trouble getting to sleep last night thinking there might be something wrong. I kept making sure you were breathing.”

“Since when did the great and mighty Liam Crowley worry about an insignificant little ant like me?”

“The health of my wife and my child are the most important things to me right now.”

“I’m not really your wife,” I say, but I’m teasing him.

“Are we going to start the day having this argument again? You’re wearing my ring, sleeping in my bed, and carrying my baby. You are my wife.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes, but I’m smiling. “All right, fine. How should we start this lovely morning instead?”

He pulls me against him. I kick slightly, squirming to get away, but he doesn’t release me as his mouth finds mine in a crushing, hot kiss. The man’s iron mixed with lace, hard where he needs to be, but gentle enough to drive me wild. He really does smell like smoke, and he tastes like it too, but I kind of like that.

I let myself get manhandled by this big beast, let him take off my clothes, lick my nipples, suck them, get me nice and wet before sliding my panties off.

“I could get used to this,” I say, stifling a whimper as his mouth finds my pussy. “Except normally you’re gone so early. Did you stick around just to do this?”

“Yes,” he says, utterly devoid of irony. “Shall I wake you when I have to leave early? There’s no reason I can’t have my way with you every morning.”

“Tempting,” I admit as he keeps going, licking me faster. It feels so freaking good I can barely control myself. My breasts shake with each new heaving breath, and soon his fingers are fucking me too, sliding in and out, driving deeper and deeper until I come against his mouth in a back-breaking orgasm.

“Lovely,” he says when I’m lying on my back, cheeks flushed, breathing hard. He looms over me, muscular and glowing. So damn handsome it almost hurts.

“You didn’t waste any time getting me naked,” I point out, covering my breasts with one arm.

He shrugs and peels my arm away. His mouth finds my hard nipples again. “Here’s the thing about having a wife. I get to wake up in bed with you. Why waste it?”

“Oh, you do? That’s assuming I haven’t locked myself away.”

“Locks are easy to pick. Doors are easy to break. I am not easy to resist.”

“What a gentleman.”

“I do what I can.” His kisses me and I taste myself on his lips. It’s dirty, but I find myself liking the way he casually treats me like I’m a gorgeous sex goddess. I’ve never felt that way before in my life, but when he looks at me, suddenly my body wakes up like never before.

I shimmy away from him just so I can get some breathing room. I feel flushed all over, dizzy with need. “Let me ask you something. Did you ever imagine what it would be like to be married? I mean seriously, in a real relationship.”

“No,” he says. “There have been women before you, and some of them were even decent matches, but I never considered settling down.”

“Liam Crowley, are you a heartbreaker?”

“Possibly,” he says, though this time he’s smiling. “But I always made it clear where I stood.”

“Which was where?”

“Nothing lasts forever.”

“Except now this. You think this is forever?”

He shrugs, kissing my breasts again. “I could get used to being around you all the time.”

“Wow, you’re really selling yourself.”

“Did you ever think about getting married?”

“Sure, all the time.” I feel silly saying that but it’s true. In my dreams, my husband was suave but kind, totally unlike Liam’s rough brutality. “I was a cliché little girl, looking at wedding magazines and imagining my dress.”

He seems surprised. “Do you want a real ceremony? We can arrange for that.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” I say, waving him off before he gets any ideas. The way he’s looking at me, I’m pretty sure he’ll give me whatever I ask for, which makes that warm spot between my legs tingle with excitement. This man wants me in a really visceral, animalistic way. “I just mean, when I was younger I thought about it. I grew out of that, but you know what I’m saying. It was like a game.”

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