Page 38 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

‘I need you,’ she cried out.

‘Then say you agree,’ he said, his tongue dipping inside her so that she lost the ability to speak as well as to think. She was incandescent with desire, so completely overcome by the consuming need of him, so fully in the moment that she couldn’t respond at all.

He lifted away from her and she let out a guttural noise of impatience.

‘This is torture,’ she snapped, pushing up on her elbows, panting, her long hair across her face.

He nodded. ‘Yes.’ He brought his body back to hers, his weight pleasing, his absence from her body not. ‘I will torture you until you admit to me what you want.’

‘I have,’ she groaned, wrapping her legs around his waist.

As with before, he pushed her knees downward, shaking his head. ‘I’m not having a wife who runs around with a gardener, or anyone else. Not when we make such sense together in bed.’

Through the fog of sensual desire, the words pushed into her brain. He was acknowledging that this was special, different and addictive, for him as well.

‘Well,’ she said, the word husky, thick, angry. ‘That goes both ways. I won’t have a husband who runs around with anyone.’

His eyes sparkled with something like an acknowledgement and he nodded, bringing his hard, firm arousal back to her feminine core. ‘Deal,’ he said, sliding inside her, thrusting hard, so that she let out a cry of relief when he finally took possession of her, his body everything she remembered and so much more.

His fingers laced through hers, pushing them above her head, and he kissed her, his possession absolute. He stoked flames in her she hadn’t known existent, his body was, in that instant, her reason for being. Every movement, every thrust, every touch, every kiss, sent her closer and closer towards the edge of sanity until she was crying out, pleasure like a single point of bright light in her brain, blinding her utterly.

‘Gabe.’ She whispered his name and he broke the kiss to look at her. ‘Is this normal?’

She had no experience outside of what they’d shared, but if sex was like this—enough to tear you apart at your cosmic core—then how did people ever get anything done?

In answer, he pulled out of her, something like iron in his expression, his desertion intense, but then he thrust into her anew so that she bucked her hips hard, meeting his demands—more than meeting them, conquering them.

‘No, tempesta.’ The admission seemed ripped from the depths of his being. ‘Nothing about this is normal.’

Among the desire, the longing, the pleasure and the delicious, sensual heat, Abby knew she felt relief at that. She was glad this was different, even for him. She wanted to ask more, to ask him if he’d ever felt this, if he’d felt this the first time they were together, if he could tell her why it was so incredible between them.

But then he kissed her again and she surrendered to the moment completely, lost to the pleasure of their connection and the power of his body.

Pleasure began to spin in her gut, slow and insistent, before bursting through her whole body, promising delight and release, and she called his name over and over, arching her back, welcoming his every movement, taking him in deep, kissing him as though her life depended on it.

His hands sought her breasts, palming them, moving over them, and her release didn’t abate, she was building anew, wave after wave of pleasure dousing her until she almost couldn’t bear it.

At the moment she began to fall apart, he joined her, swearing under his breath as he thrust into her so deep and hard that it tipped her completely over the edge. She wasn’t conscious of how loud she was being until he laughed, a choked sound, and pressed his lips to hers. Not a kiss of passion so much as to silence her.

Their breathing was in unison, just the inhalation and exhalation of two bodies that had been torn apart by sensual heat.

It had been the most intense pleasure of her life. Abby only realised now that he had been gentle with her in New York. That he had taken her innocence slowly, softly, subjugating his own desires to meet her own, initiating her into the way of lovemaking and desire in a way that would enable her to feel maximum pleasure.

But now?

No-holds-barred sex, and it had rocked her world to the core.

‘That was amazing,’ she sighed.

His bo

dy was still heavy on hers, his breathing deep, and she wondered if he’d fallen asleep until he shifted and his eyes met hers. ‘You are mine,’ he said darkly, seriously, reminding her of the argument they’d had before they’d slept together. ‘I do not want to see you talking to Hughie again, as though he is your lover…’

‘Gabe—’ Abby smiled, trying to hold onto the threads of what they’d just shared, needing to be enveloped by intimacy for a little longer ‘—how can you think about anyone else after that? How can you think I am?’

‘You forget, Abigail, that I know what you’re capable of. That I have no reason to think the best of you.’

And the desire that had made her body so warm gave way to ice-cold regret. Remorse.

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