Page 57 of Reckless Promises

Her nails dig into my shoulders and her teeth sink into her lower lip. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Are you sure about that?” I rock my hips against her heat, desperate to drive in.

This is wrong on every level. Sharing a room with her is one thing but touching her is another. I’ve resisted because I knew the moment I felt her in my hands I wouldn’t be able to stop.

And she had to go and plant herself in my lap.

She’s not angry because I pushed her away tonight; she’s pissed because she wants to be closer.

Wrapping my hand around the side of her jaw, I angle her face to mine. “Stop being a brat and tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

“Did you just call me a brat?” She tips her chin up.

“It’s what you are. Always talking back when you should know better. Fighting me at every turn. Teasing me when you know I only have so much patience.”

“And how much is that?” She tips her chin up, bringing her mouth just under mine.

“At the moment?” I lean in and brush my lips along her jaw. “Not much.”

Odette reaches up and grabs my sides, skating her fingers down my abs and toying with the line of my sweats. Her touch is static electricity sending a current through me, and I can’t get enough.

“Are you going to put your wife in her place, Cillian?” She slips the top of her fingers under the band of my sweats and glides her hands from my sides to the front.

Back and forth. A path of pure torture as she lifts her hips and increases the pressure.

“Are you going to show me who’s in charge?” She pauses where her fingers graze an inch away from the head of my cock, and she lifts her chin to bring her mouth by my ear. “Or are you going to let your wife die a virgin?”

“You want me to put you in your place, Odette?” I lift, holding her jaw and forcing her to look at me. “You think you can handle it?”

“It’s sex. People do it all the time.”

“No, Clover.” I lean in and bite her lower lip before licking the moan that escapes. “You want to be a brat? Then I’m happy to teach you a lesson.”

21

Odette

“What is that supposedto mean?”

And why am I so desperate to find out?

When I went to bed tonight, I couldn’t fall asleep. All I could do was lie here and think about how upset I was that Cillian treated me the same way I watched my father treat my mother hundreds of times growing up.

So when I rolled over, I was ready to tell him exactly what I thought of him before refusing to speak to him for a week.

I should have known the moment I looked into his cool gray eyes that wouldn’t happen.

My hate and my desire for him walk a fine line. Tipping back and forth from one to the other. Which is why I found myself climbing onto his lap instead, when I’ve never been brave physically with a man.

What I didn’t expect was for him to flip this around. For him to pin me to the bed with his erection pressing between my legs. For him to evaporate my thoughts with his lips grazing the line of my jaw.

He called me a brat. He turned this around on me. So why did it stir up every forbidden thought I’ve had about my husband?

“Have you ever had an orgasm, Odette?” He shifts his hips again, and I hate that it elicits a moan.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

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