Page 89 of The Wrong Husband
“It’ll do, I suppose.”
His gaze widens, then he smirks. "Sassy, hmm? I’ll have to punish you for that."
My pussy clenches. I’m suddenly inexorably so very wet. It feels like there’s a gaping hole in my center which has dug its claws in and will not go away until he fills it. I squeeze my thighs together.
He raises a knowing eyebrow. "Does that turn you on, Fever?"
I jerk my chin, unable to lie to him. Not when he’s watching me so closely, like I’m an insect, and he’s the spider who’s luring me into his web.
The silver in his eyes glows until it seems almost gold in color. He pulls me into his arms. "You flay me, Phe. Knowing I lit that hunger in your eyes? It’s a feeling a man could lose himself in."
And just like that, he hands me the power.
He could tell me to drop to my knees and I’d do it—gladly. Out there, I’m a trauma specialist. Calm under pressure. In control. But with him? One command, and something deep inside me surrenders.
To the world, I’m strong, independent. But behind closed doors, I ache to let go. To obey. To give myself over to a man who knows exactly what I need, even when I don’t.
It took Connor to show me this part of myself. The flip side of projecting a strong façade is this secret, desperate need to yield to a will stronger than mine.
He’s the spark, and I’m the electric response. Each time I give in, it’s not instinct. It’s choice. Pure, deliberate submission that lights up every nerve ending in my body.
Because he’s earned it. Because everything he’s done to me has brought me pleasure.He’s affirmed I can trust him with his actions.
Without breaking eye contact, he sweeps me into his arms again and carries me up the staircase.
He holds me like I’m something precious, like if he blinked, I’d vanish. It turns my insides to putty, and my pussy to liquid heat. When we reach the main bedroom, the hush of the space wraps around us.
Moonlight spills through the skylight above, casting silver shadows across the deep blue covers of a super king-sized bed that looks like it was made for slow seduction.
Floor-to-ceiling sliding doors open onto a private patio which, in turn, overlooks a private courtyard. The soft glow of hidden lights paints the garden in quiet gold. It’s an enchanted little world, carved out of the night.
A partial wall screens the bed from the en suite beyond, where a freestanding tub waits under another skylight. Stars gleam above it like scattered diamonds, while the subtle moodlighting softens every edge, turning the room into a dreamscape—an ethereal haven.
There’s another door at the far end which must lead into a walk-in closet. I can’t wait to explore it. To unearth more secrets about this man who’s come to mean so much to me so quickly, despite my attempts to resist him.
He walks across the floor and to the bed, where he drops me, then follows me down, folding his body over mine.
"What do you think?"
"Of what?" My voice comes out squeaky, and I clear it.
He raises an eyebrow. "The bedroom, of course.”
"I haven’t seen much of it," I say coyly, looking at him from under my eyelashes.
“You have my bed at your back and me on you. You don’t need to see anything else.” His tone is arrogant. His gaze that of a conquering emperor.
The confidence with which his body envelops mine is the kiss of heavy clouds over the peak of a mountain range—inevitable, elemental, made to alchemize the other. The way a storm crowns a summit. The way mist claims the jagged edges until mountain and sky blur into one, indistinguishable.
He presses closer, and I feel it—how he’s reshaping the terrain of my body, flooding into every hollow, filling every silence between my breaths. Like weather rewriting a landscape.
Oh God. He’s changing me.With his commanding touch. His possessive growls. The way every angle of his body proclaims I’m his. I swallow around the emotion in my throat and manage to speak. “I shouldnotfind that hot, but I do."
“I’m aware." He leans more of his weight on me.
He’s a big man, at least a foot taller than me, and much heavier,andlarger. But having his bulk pin me down doesn’t feel threatening or suffocate me. It makes me feel anchored. Grounded, like he’s holding down my body, and stilling my mindso I’m more at peace. He makes me feel secure. And perhaps, I shouldn’t be surprised by that realization.
It’s why I’m here with him in his apartment, and why I agreed to marry him. I could fool myself and say it was to save the ER, but that’s an excuse. Really, it’s because I want him. Because I feel this connection with him—have felt it since he stalked into my ER.
