Page 391 of The Christmas Wife

"Shh, don’t worry. I have some spare ones here for you."

"Hmm, okay." I cuddle closer, then snap open my eyes. "You have spare panties for me in your office."

He doesn’t reply, and I interpret that correctly as an affirmative answer.

I glance up and meet those amber eyes of his. "Why do you have spare panties for me in your office?"

He tilts his head.

I sigh. "Did you know I was going to come in here, and that you were going to?—"

"Make a mess in my lap?"

"What?" I wriggle this way, then that enough to catch a glimpse of the damp spot on the front of his pants. Heat flushes my cheeks. "I didn’t mean to?—"

"I’ll wear it as a badge of pride."

I blush deeper, and the hard column underneath me extends further. "You still haven’t come."

"I haven’t come in two years."

30

Edward

Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Didn’t mean to blurt that out. And since when do things slip past my control? Since when do I ensure there’s an entire wardrobe change for a woman in the closet in my office?Since I met her. Since I got married to her. Since I feel this responsibility for her. This deep tenderness and need for her. This desire to make love to her. This compulsion to dominate her. To ensure she is always high from the pleasure only I can bring her. To mark her flesh and dig my teeth into the curve of her shoulder, to look into her eyes as I bury myself inside of her. To teach her who she belongs to. For she is mine.My wife. My life. My love. Fuck… I can’t have fallen for her in such little time.

I wanted to keep her at arm’s length. Instead, I can’t stop myself from holding her in them. Close to me. Against my chest where I can smell her, feel her softness against me, assure myself she’s safe and cared for. My pulse rate accelerates further. A bead of sweat trails down my spine.I can’t let myself feel somuch for her. I will not break my vow. My self-control is the only thing I have left, and I will not willingly relinquish it.

Some of my thoughts must show on my features—another first—for she cups my cheek. "Eddie, what’s wrong?"

I want to tell her. I want to tell her why I can’t be a better husband to her. Why I can’t give her what she wants. Why I’ll never be the man she deserves. Why I will not break the vow I made to myself. Why I’ll never demand she submit to me, though every inch of me craves to feel her come apart, bit by bit, around my cock. I want to see her shudder as I bring her to the edge. I want to play her body like it’s an instrument made for my pleasure. I want to do the most degrading, filthy things to her and watch her fight back before the inevitable capitulation.

She holds the power to destroy me; a power she’s snatched from me without trying. She's more dangerous than the incident that changed me. Bit by bit, she's peeling back my layers, and revealing the man I’d hoped to become. I want to be everything for her…but can’t.I can’t.

"I can’t."

"What?" She frowns.

"I can’t do this."

"Do what?"

"This—you, me… It’s not worth it."

She swallows. "I… I’m not sure what you mean."

I begin to lower her to the ground, but she throws her arms about my neck and clings. "Eddie, please talk to me. Don’t shut down."

When I don’t respond, she bites her lower lip, and of course, my dick instantly stabs against the restraint of my pants. Everything about her is designed to tempt me, to allure me and seduce me. I thought I could control myself around her— Ha, the joke’s on me.

I thought I could resist her. Instead, I’m falling for her. I need to put distance between us again. I need to ensure there’s no opportunity for me to be enticed by her.

Once again, she must read something in my gaze, for alarm flits across her features. She scrambles up, and pulling her skirt up further, she straddles me. "Eddie, no, don’t do this." She pushes into me, so her breasts are flattened against my chest. Those hard nipples of hers dig into my jacket, and despite the layers between us, I can feel their outline against my chest, can sense the beating of her heart like it’s my own. Can intuit the confusion that grips her, the appeal, the craving, the concern in her eyes. And that’s my undoing.

"I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you."

"Why do you say that? Why do you beat yourself up so? The little time I’ve spent with you has shown me you’re not the persona you project to the world. You’re not hard, or emotionless; quite the contrary. You feel so much." She slips a hand under my jacket, and my heart thuds against her palm. "You’re real, and vital, and alive, and there’s so much inside of you. You have so much to share with the world. You care deeply, Edward—too deeply—and that’s the problem."

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