Page 385 of The Christmas Wife

"I wish I’d known this was your first time. If I had?—"

"You wouldn’t have made love to me?"

"I wouldn’t have fucked you," I agree.

Her face falls, and a hot sensation stabs at my chest. I’m too attuned to her. Too sensitive to her needs. Too responsive to her change in emotions. She glances away, and when she looks back at me, her gaze is haunted. "Is it fucking if you didn’t come in me?"

I shrug.

"The only reason you made lo—penetrated me is because you needed to consummate the marriage."

I incline my head.

"And you married me because you want G-Pa to confirm your position as the CEO."

"You knew this already, Belle," I murmur.

She bites the inside of her cheek. "Knowing it and living it are two very different things."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

Why am I asking her this? It's not as if I'm going to let her go. Especially now.

My fingers tingle. I want to reach over and push back the hair from her face. I want to crawl into bed with her, turn her over and pull her into me. I want to spoon her, watch her as she falls asleep, then wake her up by crawling in between her legs and eating her out until she comes again… I want…what I can’t have—the kind of intimacy that comes from having confidence in another. That emotional oneness that means you never have to second guess yourself when you’re with them.

I want her sweetness to soothe my hard edges, her innocence to throw me a rope so I can climb out of the dark place I’ve descended into, her sunshiny nature to illuminate the blackness I’ve held close. I’m changing, and it’s all because of her. I want to push her away, yet I find myself circling back to her, always. I want to teach her how it could be to open herself up and offer herself to me. I want her to know the satisfaction of putting her trust in me. Of allowing me to wring every last drop of desire from her body, of fulfilling every wish of her soul. The ecstasy she’d feel giving herself to me, comfortable in the belief she can stop me anytime. The exhilaration that comes with letting me push her boundaries, believing in me enough to put her faith in me.

Faith. I'm asking her for the one thing I've lost. I no longer believe in the greater good. I'm no longer sure there's a higher power. I'm no longer convinced of the purpose that guided me for most of my life. I'm a stone sinking slowly in a river of depravity. I lost my moorings and found her, and it threatens every principle I’ve sworn to live my life by sinceher. I cannot…will not let this woman turn my life upside down. But I also cannot bear to see her hurt.

"Belle? Do you regret marrying me?

"Would it matter?"

"I’m not going to let you walk away…"

She scoffs. "I didn’t think you would."

"I’m also not sorry I took your virginity."

Her jaw drops.

"Nor for the pain I caused you."

She gasps. "Christ-on-a-bus, don’t hold anything back, will ya?"

"It’s best you find out what kind of a man I am."

"A hurt, broken, emotionally unavailable, sadistic dominant?" She scoffs.

I look at her with interest. "You’re beginning to understand me."

"I liked you better when I merely thought of you as recovering from a broken heart."

"That’s a very romantic picture of me; afraid the truth is not so black and white."

"Oh, you’re nothing but shades of grey." She peers up at me, and her blue eyes are clear and bright, the gaze of someone who doesn’t have to carry around the burdens of a lifetime.

"And black." I set my jaw. "There are parts of me you don’t want to come in contact with."

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