Page 22 of Marrying the Enemy

Heart slamming with a sense that she was doing something very bad, she did as he ordered, letting him drag away shorts and bikini bottoms in one go.

She’d been here before, naked while he was still half-dressed and fully in control. She licked her lips and looked for the condom, but he dropped to his knees.

“Like it was built for this,” he said with guttural satisfaction. “Like you were. No, keep your leg up like that. I want you right on the edge. Hold on, Evie. Hold on.”

He draped her good leg over his shoulder so the contact with his skin burned the back of her thigh. He blew softly across the fine hairs protecting her mound. She twitched and wriggled, but he wrapped his arm behind her hips, not letting her retreat as soft kisses made her thighs twitch, trying to close.

“If you want me to stop, say so.”

She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her reaction or being sincere. She could only bite her lip and close her eyes as he nuzzled closer. Her flesh was so sensitized and swollen with anticipation, she couldn’t speak.

Please, she thought. Please.

Without any hurry at all, he painted a slow wet stripe against her inner lips, then again, with more pressure. Deeper.

She groaned. And shook.

He rumbled a noise of satisfaction that she barely heard over the sheets of rain and the crash of surf and the rattle of the awning in the keening wind. As the storm closed in and the day turned to dusk, her world shrank to this, the clever play of his tongue on her most intimate flesh. He brought his hand into the game, delicately parting her, fondling and adding to the sensations so she was nearly arched right off the counter. She pressed her head to the wall behind her, vaguely appalled at how uninhibited she was being, but she had yearned for this for four years. She needed it more than she needed air.

Why was it him that did this to her? Why? Why was he so perfectly skilled at swirling sensations through her like a tornado, teasing her and drawing her up and up into a greater storm of pleasure. Climax beckoned, glowing, expanding.

He gave her inner thigh a juicy, openmouthed kiss then stood.

“Don’t stop,” she panted, hearing herself beg and hating herself for it.

“I told you I wanted you right on the edge,” he said with a cruel grin.

Her stomach clenched and, for one second, she thought he was doing this to her again. That he’d wanted to bring her to this point of flagrantly offering herself so he could reject her.

But he picked up a condom and tore it open with his teeth. He pulled the drawstring on his shorts at the same time, dropping them. He wasn’t wearing underwear and his thick erection sprang out, ready and hot as it brushed her thigh.

“It’s time.” He efficiently rolled the condom down his length.

It was past time. It was the only time.

“Help me. Show me you want this,” he urged, guiding his tip against her aching flesh.

She did, bumping her trembling fingers against his, touching the steely shape of him, exploring briefly then catching at his shoulder as he notched the wide dome of his head so he could penetrate her.

The pressure increased. She tensed, nervous.

“Hurt?” He flashed a frown up at her.

“No.” It didn’t. Not really, but it was more profound than she had expected. She wanted to cry, she had waited so long for this. And she had always thought that lovemaking would fill her with a flood of love, but she hated him. Didn’t she?

Not right now. Not when he said in a voice that was almost gentle, “It’s okay. I won’t let you fall.” He took a firm grip of her thigh. “Tilt your hips.”

She did and the thick shape of him slowly filled her, stretching and forging his way in until he was, as he’d promised in Budapest, buried to the root.

She couldn’t breathe. She could only hold onto his shoulders and press her open mouth against the side of his neck. She swore she could feel his heartbeat inside her. Her abdomen began to shake. A symphony of contractions worked through her pelvis and loins and she simply lost.

She felt his jolt of surprise, then his arm locked low behind her tailbone, securing her exactly where she was. His other hand cupped her neck while he covered her mouth with his own, drinking every cry and moan from her lips as he pulsed his hips, holding himself deep inside her while subtly riding her through the shudders of her climax.

Was it supposed to happen like this? He wasn’t even thrusting. All he’d done was arrive inside her and she fell apart. She could have wept, she felt so overwhelmed and helpless. So completely at his mercy.

“I’m starting to think they’re going to find us like this,” he said in a rasp, scraping his teeth along the edge of her jaw. “Because if that’s what I can expect while I’m here, I’m never leaving.”

She was still shivering in the aftermath, leaning weakly against him, trying not to sob over how powerful that had been. He kissed her once. Twice. Bordering on tender as his mouth traveled into her neck and across her shoulder while his caressing fingertips teased along her spine and rib cage, then grazed the underswell of her breast.

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