Page 11 of Wife for a Week

She pushed herself into a sitting position, her face flushed and her breath coming fast. ‘I don’t think I can do this.’

‘Really slow,’ he said. And turned his considerable will towards proving that he could.

Gentle, as he cupped her hips and positioned them so that she dragged against him. Slow, as he rocked back and forth, watching, always watching, to see that what he was doing pleased her. And, heaven help them both, she was easy to please.

‘Nick, I—Oh…’

He licked at her nipple, flickered his tongue back and forth across that hard little bud. So easy to please as he grazed her with his teeth and soothed her with his tongue before taking her breast more fully into his mouth and suckling hard. She arched back at that, whimpering her approval before demanding he pay attention to her other breast. He could do that. Did exactly that as his hands skittered down her spine and then she was wresting that breast from him and devouring his lips with her own, each nip, each slide of that clever, honeyed mouth dragging him deeper.

‘Work with me here,’ he muttered. ‘I’m pretty sure I can go slower. You just have to stop kissing me like that.’

‘Oh, my God!’ she said.

He nipped at her jaw, the slender curve of her neck, the sweep of her shoulder, and everywhere he touched she responded with a shudder, a purr, a gasp. He was dizzy with the feel of her, wild with need for her. He slid his fingers between her legs, found her soft and damp as he parted her protective folds to expose her tiny bud and position himself against her more fully. Against but not in, always rocking, always intensifying the sweet slide of skin against skin until her breath came in short, sharp gasps and her eyes turned molten. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her mound slick and swollen against his hardness as her movements grew more frantic. He sucked in his breath as she trailed her hands down his chest to his nipples and stroked them to hardness, carefully passive, and aching with the control it took to stay that way as she moved her hands lower, positioned herself above him and guided him in, a fraction at a time.

That was when he felt it. A barrier in his way.

No! Surely not. It couldn’t possibly be what he thought it was. Could it? Her eyelashes were shielding her eyes, her brow was furrowed as she focussed intently on the task at hand and, dammit, she was chewing on her bottom lip. Oh, no. Please, no. ‘You’re not a virgin, are you?’ he asked with an impending sense of doom.

‘Does it matter?’ she said, still trying—unsuccessfully—to accommodate him.

What did she mean, did it matter? ‘Of course it matters!’ he roared. ‘Oh, hell. You are a virgin!’

‘Well, technically, yes,’ she admitted. ‘But I’m not that inexperienced. I’ve had sexual relations before.’

‘Don’t you dare bring politics into this conversation,’ he snapped, snatching his hands from her body and pressing them against the bed as he struggled for control. ‘You! A virgin! What next?’

Her eyes narrowed, her chin came up. He loved that look. His body loved that look. His body, he thought with increasing alarm, was almost past the point of stopping.

‘Get off,’ he ordered.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ She bit her bottom lip, pressed down hard, and suddenly, suddenly, he was in.

Her eyes watered, her breath seemed to catch in her throat.

Oh, God! His control was moments away from shattering. She was so hot, so tight, so wet. ‘Don’t panic!’ he muttered. ‘We can fix this.’

How on earth were they going to fix this?

Hallie started to giggle.

‘Don’t laugh,’ he ordered. ‘Don’t move!’ If she moved, he was history.

She moved, and so did he, rolling with her, rolling her onto her back and moving over her, into her, his movements carefully restrained as he tried, God help him, to be gentle with her.

She looked up at him then, her eyes dark and slumberous and her lips curved, and he felt her melt into him, felt her body grow accustomed to him as his strokes grew longer until at last he was sheathed inside her completely. He managed a smile, shuddering with the effort it took to rein himself in. ‘You okay?’ he muttered.

‘Absolutely.’

And then she was threading her hands through his hair and dragging his lips down to hers and he was surging into her, his control a thing of the past. Trying to be gentle with her and not at all sure he was succeeding as he rode out his need for her, his fascination with her, each stroke destroying him, what was left of him, and all around them was the rich scent of sex and the slide of sweat-slicked bodies. His need for her was outrageous, his satisfaction darkly overwhelming as she gave herself over to him, came for him, convulsing around him with a soft, sexy cry that screamed through his senses.

Now. As she cried out again, wrapped her legs around him and urged him deeper.

Now.

Later, much later, he carried her to the bathroom, turned the shower on hot and hard and stood her under the spray, one arm wrapped around her waist to support her. Gentleman or rogue—he figured he had his answer. Figured he was going to have to live with it. ‘Can you stand?’ he asked gruffly.

‘Of course I can stand.’ She pushed his arm away and took a couple of wobbly steps towards the soap. ‘Walking’s the challenge.’

‘Here…’ He adjusted the showerheads so that the water cascaded over them both and handed her the soap. He’d never in his wildest dreams imagined that sassy Hallie Bennett was a virgin. She was twenty-four. What woman in this day and age reached her mid-twenties still a virgin? And why? ‘I, ah, hope you weren’t saving yourself for your future husband,’ he said awkwardly.

‘I wasn’t.’ Hallie’s lips twitched as she started soaping herself down. ‘Don’t panic, Nick. I was a virgin, yes, but I was ready for that to change. I’m not out to trap you.’

That was a relief. Until a new and wholly unwelcome thought occurred to him. Whether she was out to trap him or not they’d just had unprotected sex. He’d never been so careless with a woman before. Ever! What if she fell pregnant and had a child? His child. There was no way any child of his was going to grow up without a father and, as far as Nick was concerned, that meant marriage. His blood turned to ice; his breath caught in his throat. What had he done?

‘Are you okay?’ she asked him. ‘You don’t look so good.’

‘I, ah, guess it’s unlikely you were protected against pregnancy, what with you being a virgin and all.’ He was being wildly optimistic, he knew he was.

‘Actually, I am protected,’ she said. ‘That’s something we don’t have to worry about.’

The breath left his body in a whoosh. Regular breathing resumed.

‘Call it a complete stab in the dark,’ said Hallie dryly, ‘but I’m guessing marriage and children aren’t on your to-do list.’

‘I, uh…’ He was still recovering, still trying to regroup. ‘No, they’re on the list,’ he said at last. ‘They’re just not at the top of the list at this point in time.’

‘Ah.’ She smiled. ‘Good to know.’ And from beneath lowered lashes, ‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re an incredible lover. I’m glad you were my first.’ Then she lifted her face to the water and put her hands to her hair in a move so innately sensual he felt the force of it like a punch to his stomach.

Definitely not part of the plan, he thought as he dragged her up against him with a muffled curse. And took her again.

Nick soaped up beneath the spray as Hallie stepped from the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She slid him a dreamy smile, followed up with a stern warning for him to keep his distance, as she padded from the bathroom. Not a problem, he thought wryly, because, frankly, he was spent.

Lovemaking had always been a pleasurable pastime for Nick. Sometimes it was slow and lazy, sometimes quick and playful. This time had been different. This time his climax had ripped through him like a tornado, leaving him dazed and shaken. And worried.

So what if she was a generous lover?

So what if towards the end there he’d hardly known who or where he was, only whom he was with? It wasn’t as if he’d found The One. Hell, he was only thirty; he was far too young for that. He had years and years of loving left in him before that happened.

Yeah, whispered his brain. Years and years of mediocre bed play that will never, ever measure up to what you’ve just experienced with Hallie Bennett.

‘No,’ he said fiercely.

Oh, yeah, throbbed his heart. Years and years spent searching for another Titian-haired, golden-eyed witch whose smile warms you through and whose kisses make your soul tremble.

‘No!’ Louder this time. This was not happening. Regardless of her sweetness, her savvy, and her thorough understanding of football, Hallie Bennett was definitely not The One.

He wouldn’t let her be.

She was lying on her stomach on the freshly made bed, leafing through the travel guide to Hong Kong he’d given her, when he finally emerged from the bathroom. Her trouser-clad legs were bent at the knees, her dainty little feet—clad in strappy little sandals—were crossed at the ankles. Her arms were bent at the elbows, her collared shirt showed a modest amount of cleavage. She looked casual, comfortable and perfectly at ease. Perfectly approachable, which was good because he was about to re-establish the boundaries of their relationship.

---