Page 46 of The Reluctant Wife

I was congratulating myself for pulling myself together after what happened yesterday, but this… Thinking he’d drowned sent me over the edge. All the shock from yesterday, the trauma I absorbed, bubbles up and spills over. The distress I tried to lock away boils to the fore. It feels cathartic, and very indulgent, to let myself break down and have him hold me.

I sense him rubbing circles over my back and tuck my head under his chin. “I’m so sorry I scared you; I didn’t mean to,” he whispers into my hair.

His voice is so soft, so tender, it only makes me cry harder.

“Let it out, baby. Let it all out.” He carries me out of the water, and when he reaches the grass, he sits down with me straddling him. I cling to him, and he runs his fingers down my hair, murmuring words I can’t make out.

The comfort in his actions and his tone, in how he wraps his big arms about me and holds me so close… It allows me to feel cherished and safe. Enough to let all the frustrations inside me flow out. When the tears finally stop, he continues to hold me.

The heat of his body cocoons me, surrounds me, and he's the only thing anchoring me to this world. He's the antidote to the black void that threatened to swallow me.

I feel safe. There’s that word.Protected. Cherished. His.I hiccup, and he continues to swipe his hand down my back, soothing me. That musky, spicy scent of his surrounds me. I draw it deeply into my lungs, allowing it to calm me further. He smells like every erotic dream I’ve ever had. And like security. Yeah, I’ve never felt as shielded as I am now in his arms.

Pressed into his chest, with my thighs plastered against his sides, and the throb of something hard and insistent stabbing into the space between my thighs…The throb of something hard and insistent stabbing into the space between my thighs?

I draw in a sharp breath, and just like that, the safe, content feeling transforms into something hungry. Something erotic. Something insistent which makes my nipples tighten, turns my stomach to a seething mass of desire, and my pussy into an insistent throb of need. I look up to find he’s staring down at me with green eyes that are almost black with lust. They mirror the depths of the water I thought had swallowed him up.

And maybe I’m overreacting, but I don’t question this need to hold him, and touch him, and lick him, and feel him, and make sure he’s here. I tip up my chin. "Kiss me."

His forehead furrows. A tortured expression flits across his features. "I’m trying to do my job here, Princess." He cups my cheek. "I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m trying to make sure I don’t get so involved that the next time I need to protect you or make decisions, which could mean the difference between life and death, I don’t hesitate."

I frown, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.Didn't he admit that his feelings for me have already affected his actions? And shouldn't a stronger connection between us mean he'll protect me even better? How can I convince him of that?I don't even know what words to use but… Something desperate inside of me insists that this is my chance.

We’re far from everything that defines me. Here, I’m not a princess, and he’s not my bodyguard, and I’m not engaged. I’ve never felt something this powerful for anyone else before. And maybe, we can’t have a future together, but I can seize this moment, can’t I?

"Please," I whisper. "I want you. Please, Ryot."

His jaw hardens. A nerve throbs at his temple. I see the struggle in his eyes a second before that wall I’ve sensed before slams down, and I know I’ve lost him. And a part of me can’t accept it. I refuse to let him turn away. If I let him walk away now, I’ll never have this opportunity again, when I'll feel so close to him. Closer than I've been with anyone before. Closer than I’ll ever be to another human. And I want him. I need this. Imusthave this. So, I tip up my chin and fit my lips to his.

22

Ryot

One touch of her lips, and I know I’m in trouble. Since I met her, I haven’t stopped thinking about our first meeting and how the first time I saw her face it felt like a gut punch.

How her scent had awoken something primal inside of me. How it’d felt to pull her into my side and feel her melt into me like she belonged there. How right it felt to call her my wife. More than it ever felt with the woman I once married. How it turned me on to spank her. How satisfying it was to have her climax under my ministrations. How we fit physically and emotionally. How, the connection between us is more than just sexual.

Then, I kiss her deeply and I realize I was wrong. Her mouth is softer than I remember. Her breath sweeter. Her taste more complex. She feels perfect pressed up against me, with her arms and legs wound around me like she has no intention of letting go.

How can I ache this badly to be inside of her? How can I feel this deeply connected to a woman I’ve known for only a few weeks?

I look into her eyes and sense the mirrored emotions in hers. She feels this connection too. These unseen bonds that tether us, growing stronger with every passing second. And once I make love to her, I won’t be able to pull back.

Once I’m inside of her, my judgement will be compromised. Then, how am I going to protect her? I keep my elbows tucked into my sides and my mouth in a straight line.

She nibbles on my lower lip, and my cock instantly jumps in my pants. I want to grab her and fit her over the aching tent in my crotch, but when I don’t move, she stills.

I hear her swallow; know the precise moment the fight seems to go out of her. She pulls back. Her lips turn down; her chin wobbles. When the light in her eyes dims, my chest compresses.Damn.

She has this power to gut me, to cut me off at the knees, for when she’s upset, it’s like the entire world is wrong. I’ll do anything to keep her happy. I’d burn the world to keep her safe.

I’m going to hunt down those who tried to shoot her and wipe them out from the face of this earth. I’m going to ensure they never come after her again.

She’s here in my arms, and it feels so right. It hasn’t felt this good with anyone else. Not even Jane. I’ve borne the guilt of her death for so long. Don’t I deserve a rest from it?

Don’t I deserve to stop thinking of all the possible ways I could have changed things? Don’t I deserve a few minutes of happiness? Of being with the woman who’s come to mean so much to me from the moment I laid eyes on her?

Also… I can’t refuse her.

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