Page 24 of One Night Bride
Her fingers, still gripped in my hair, tightened. The pain on my scalp was nothing compared to the sharp ache in my balls. I buried my head in her, licking and kissing and inhaling her to satisfy the ache. Her hips jumped and shifted. I followed wherever she went, reaching out to press my hand down on her stomach. My childhood bed was only so big, and I didn’t want to find myself falling to the floor because she bucked me off. My thumb spread her open and my tongue found a rhythm that had her gasping out my name over and over again.
I kept her right there on the edge, not quite giving her what she wanted. Only because I was a bastard and wanted to keep tasting her. Wanted this moment to never end. The minute real life inserted itself, she’d be back to business Esme, the girl with stilettos and silk blouses and her nose in her computer.
“Remy, please,” she begged, using the nickname only she used.
It was the perfect thing to say. The only thing to make me give her what she wanted. I’d made her beg, which just proved she wanted me too.
I pressed two fingers into her, thrusting insistently as I focused the tip of my tongue on her clit, flicking and tasting until her back arched off the bed and she slammed a pillow over her face to muffle the scream.
Easing up long moments later, I pulled my fingers out of her, making her jump and quiver. I grabbed the pillow and pried it out of her grip, wanting to see her face. Her cheeks blushed pink and her hair lay a tangled mess against my pillow. She was perfection. She blinked up at me.
“Good morning,” she slurred.
Her phone, sitting benignly on the bedside table, began to beep. Loudly. Repeatedly. Annoyingly.
She bit her puffy bottom lip, her eyes already coming into focus and losing that dazed look I quite liked.
I sighed. “You have to get that, don’t you?”
She nodded and grimaced, looking down at the erection I’d have to take care of in the shower, just to make sure I didn’t die from the influx of blood flow that wouldn’t leave.
I leaned down to drop a kiss on her mouth and pushed off the bed. When I came out of the shower—which hadn’t taken care of my little problem, not really—she was already on her computer, dressed, and answering emails. Just looking at her, you couldn’t tell that twenty minutes ago she’d been tossing her head back and forth, begging me to let her come on my face.
I’d have a long day of fixing the fence line to work out my sexual frustrations. As I turned to leave, I noticed her wedding ring sat by itself on the bedside table.
Not on her damn finger where it belonged.
If I slammed the door on my way out, I blamed it on the erection.
11
Esme
I was hanging by a thread.
The second Remington got in the shower, I’d rushed around the room getting ready. I had a client call on my schedule and I hadn’t even remembered to set my alarm. Hadn’t even laid out what outfit I planned to wear that day. One delightful orgasm in Wyoming and I forgot all my responsibilities.
For the first time in forever, I’d almost wavered. Two more seconds of him kissing me and I would have turned my phone off and said to hell with it. I would have let him sink into my body and burn the fucking house down with the attraction that crackled between us. So when he didn’t stay with me, I wrenched that ring off my finger like a criminal escaping handcuffs. I needed it off me. I needed my brain focused on my job. I needed to ignore that little slipup this morning. I’d blame it on his ridiculously hot body pressed up against me. How was a girl supposed to refuse that?
I’d just finished a video chat with my twelve o’clock client and was currently entering notes into my database about her progress when the bedroom door burst open. I twirled around in the high-backed chair, having forgotten quite where I was at or what time it might be. Frequently, I got in the zone when I worked, which is why all my appointments came with an alarm on my phone to remind me to log in to wherever I was supposed to be at each hour of the day.
“Remington. What are you doing here?”
He had mud all over him, except for his bare feet. He even had the cutest smudge right across his forehead, like he’d brushed sweat off his face with a dirty forearm. He grinned, those blue eyes sparkling.
“Fence is done,” he grunted, coming over like he meant to touch me.
“Ah, ah, ah,” I warned, hopping up and backing away to save my precious emerald-green blouse. Mud didn’t come out of silk.
He stopped in his tracks, then held his hands up. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’m taking you into town for lunch.”
I frowned. “I have to check my schedule first. I may have afternoon appointments.”
“Come on, Esme. Live a little. When will you ever be in Wyoming again? Don’t you want to at least see one tiny part of it?”
He had a point, though I’d never let on that I agreed. “That would be lovely, had I planned ahead for this trip. But since you didn’t give me advanced notice, I’m here working. Besides, shouldn’t we use any free time to file that annulment?”
His face transformed from an easygoing cowboy to a mask of thunder in a split second. He turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom. “Check your schedule. Everybody has to eat.”
