Page 44 of It's Holy Matrimony, Baby

It’s all I want.

“Your eyes say yes, but I’m going to have to hear it from your pretty lips.” There’s heat in the clear blue of his gaze as he brushes his thumb from my cupids bow to the center of my bottom lip. It darkens them and the desire in them is a physical reaction inside me. One I can’t ignore. One that has me nodding and my voice slamming out breathlessly. “Yes.”

We crash together, his hold on my hair stinging my eyes as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth. I race to meet him with my own. Melding my body against his hard chest, I feel him thicken beneath me. A rough moan drags over my skin as he tilts my head to the side and kisses his way up my neck. I shiver with pleasure and my insides clench. Heat pools between my thighs as I grow wet for him. Wetter.

He reaches down next to the seat, and we’re sliding back, the steering wheel no longer digging into my back. I rise up on my knees so I can reach between us to undo his pants. The cabin is only yards away, but the urgency is too great.

He’s commando when I reach into his jeans and wrap my hand around his erection. No boxer briefs in the way. Pre-cum leaks from the head of his cock, making my hand slippery as I pull him out and stroke him. My fingers barely wrap around his girth, and he pulses in my grip.

“Angel, you might want to sit on him because he’s ready to burst at the idea of fucking you again.” Both his hands cup my neck, and the words he whispers in my ear in that raw voice hikes up my need to have him buried inside me.

“Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting,” I whisper as I dig my hands under my skirt.

His fingers join mine, ripping apart my panties, getting rid of the barrier between us. Brushing across my clit, flicking it gently so that I moan. “I’d wait. You know I’d wait if you needed me to. If you need me on my knees first. Or—”

I put my fingers over his lips as I take his cock in my other hand and press it to my entrance, sink down on it with such a wanton moan I almost can’t believe the noise comes from me. This man affects me in a way I never saw coming. Not ever. There’s no chemical equation that can add up to this kind of intensity.

“Christ.” He cusses under his breath as both hands land on my hips and hold me down. His hot length impaled, he breathes harshly. I squirm against his tight hold. I’m so needy. On a razor’s edge. I need movement to ease the ache that’s building.

I lose it when he moves inside me. Gripping my hips, he kisses me while he guides me up and down his hard cock. The world falls away, and it’s just him and me and how insanely good it feels while he’s thrusting into me like he’s trying to get as close to me as possible. It’s just us. Our harsh breaths and feral kisses. My needy whine that grows more high-pitched every time he strokes my most sensitive spots. His rough groans in my ear take me higher. Pushes me to the edge of an orgasm that tosses me from the stage this man puts me on. My inner walls spasm around him, my whole body clenches. Bright lights burst behind my lids like fireworks into darkness.

“Goddamn,” he says through gritted teeth as he shudders underneath me. He thrusts into me hard, his dick jumping and jerking inside me while he comes.

He crushes me to his chest, both arms holding me against him as though I might run. I don’t have the energy. Or the interest. My brain is an addict overdosing on happy chemicals. His hands are stroking my hair and his chest is thumping under my hands. “Thirty percent.”

“Sorry?” he whispers.

“Thirty percent. That’s what you said. Then I found the ring and somehow you made thirty percent seem like it could be enough.”

“Hmm.” His lips curve against my hair. “Did it? That why you asked me to marry you?”

“Well, it might also have been the champagne and the tequila and the many cocktails, but I think so.”

He exhales long and deep. “Does it still seem like enough?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. Wish I did. Wish I could say that it was. But the odds aren’t in our favor. They’re not good. And I have worse odds than most. But Nox doesn’t seem to care. He’s more optimistic than I am. More stubborn too probably. So maybe...

“All you have to do is stay. We’ll work the rest out.”

“I’m staying.” I look up at him. I am. I was anyway. But this is different. I’m staying because he wants me to. I’m staying because I can’t imagine walking away of my own free will.

“Good.” He kisses me.

A minute later he smirks, his eyes twinkling with some entertaining thought. “Does this mean you’re going to put my cabin back the way I like it?”

“Mmm.” I pluck at my skirt as I climb off his knee and out of the truck. The fabric is twisted and rumpled, and I flatten it out with my palms. “Will you sign the divorce papers? I can stay without us being married.”

“Heck no.”

“Then no. Not yet.” I cringe. I should give him back his things. But I can’t shake the sensation in the pit of my stomach that this will all go badly. That I’ll be forced to walk away because that’s how relationships go for McClains. And I need a backup plan. A bargaining chip. “Just in case.”

He laughs. His whole chest shakes with it as he pulls me close to him. Our bodies flush against each other. His hand cups one side of my neck. “Okay. I’m going to prove you wrong. But if that’s how you need to play it for now I can live with your furniture. You’re buying the groceries though.”

“But—”

“It’s only fair that we share everything. As husband and wife.” He drops his mouth over mine silencing any chance I have of responding. “Like you said earlier about rearranging the cabin.”

“Fair enough,” I answer, all of a sudden shy. This warmth in my chest... it’s new. Different. In a good way. It might even, for the first time in a long time, be hope. “As long as you tell me why you have an orange grove when you clearly can’t stand them.”

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