Page 85 of When He Defends
Her knees pushed down on the mattress. Her body heaved up, until only the head of his cock was in her again, and then when those fingers of his raked over her clit, Emerson lost her control.
He didn’t have to slam her down. She did that herself. She crashed onto him even as her climax exploded and sent waves and waves of pleasure pouring through her.
“You feel fucking fantastic. Yes, Emerson, yes, but…eyes on me.I need to see you. I need to see everything.”
Her eyes opened. As the pleasure surged, her gaze collided with his.
His dick filled her. Her inner muscles trembled around him. And he tumbled her back. He rose onto the bed and sent her falling onto the mattress. He caught her legs, slid them over his shoulders, and Gray drove into her relentlessly. Over and over. Wild, deep thrusts that just made the pleasure she felt seem to last and echo through her body.
And for every single thrust, his eyes were on her. Hers were on him.
She saw the climax take him. The brutal satisfaction that flashed across his face as he drove into her one final time and let go.
Pleasure. Lust. So much need.
It was actually one heck of a pretend wedding night.
“Tellme about the night your father died.”
Emerson had just been about to drift off to sleep. They’d showered together, which had been a whole new, fun, and amazing experience of its own, and she’d been curled in the big bed with Gray. Sleep pulled at her because it was edging close to two a.m.
Emerson rolled to face Gray. They’d been spooning. She’d been enjoying that immensely, feeling oddly safe in his arms. Though maybe there wasn’t anything odd about it. Maybe Gray made her feel safe.
Except…
She frowned at him. “You don’t have the best after-sex talk.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. “Character flaw.” He shifted closer. “I’m curious.”
A yawn came and went. One she tried valiantly to cover. “You’re curious…now. About my dad.”
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered near her cheek. “When it comes to you, I want to know every detail.”
Her head turned. Her lips brushed his palm. Were his words really so odd? Didn’t she want to know everything about him? “I don’t remember much.”
“Tell me what you do remember.”
Only one light remained on in the bedroom. A soft lamplight on the nightstand. Gray’s side of the bed. He’d wanted to sleep on that side, probably so he’d be closer to the gun she’d seen him place in the drawer after their shower. “I remember thunder. A lot of thunder. It was raining that night.”
“Your father was out walking in a storm?”
“Obviously, he wasn’t thinking clearly.” How many times had she heard her mother say words exactly like those? Emerson pressed her lips together. Then, “He just walked straight over the edge.”
“How do you know? Did you see him?”
She blinked. “No, no, I was scared.” This part, she remembered. “Storms scared me when I was a kid. Especially the lightning. The thunder. My dad—he would usually come into my room. Sing to me.” The memory made her ache. “But that had been before things started to happen.”Things.“He saw things that weren’t there. Got so paranoid. Thought someone was after him.”
“Do you remember that happening? The paranoia? Him seeing things that others didn’t? Or were youtoldthose things happened?”
She stiffened. “What exactly are you suggesting?”
His hand stroked over her cheek. “Nothing.” Soft. “I’m just asking.”
No, he was not just asking. “Spit it out. Whatever you’re thinking or suspecting, just say it.” She tensed in the bed. Her heart drummed.Say it.
“Your mother is having an affair with Owen.”
She nodded, moving her head against the pillow. “Yes.”
