Page 24 of Texas-Sized Scandal

“She should be okay,” Melinda said. “Let me check.”

Melinda opened the door that led to her outdoor balcony, which ran the length of her condo. She had a small grassy “lawn” area that she’d had installed just for her dog. Pixie didn’t like the noise on the streets and the nervous dog would often start shaking.

He followed Melinda to the glass door. As soon as she opened it, the little dog darted out and the warm September air rushed into the room. Slade took off his tie and loosened his collar. He tossed his tie on the chair and then toed off his shoes and socks.

Melinda braced one hand on the doorjamb and bent to undo the buckle at her ankle on her sandals. He hardened watching her body move, so graceful and elegant. When she glanced over at him, finding him watching her, there was a heat in her eyes. He groaned.

She always met him heat for heat. He had expected a shy woman in the bedroom given her propensity for manners and rules, but she knew what she wanted from a man and didn’t hesitate to demand it. Something he appreciated in her.

There was a lot about Melinda that had kept him coming back to her bedroom. He’d never admit it out loud, but he regretted the baby she was carrying. That child was forcing him out of her life. Yet at the same time, he was intensely protective of that child. The baby that shouldn’t have been because he’d made a vow to himself. Of course, he’d broken it. Did he need further proof that he was a Bartelli?

He had it. No more thinking. He wanted Melinda in his arms and underneath him. At least then he’d feel like he was giving her what she needed from him. And when he held her, he could pretend even for a few moments that she was his.

Really his.

She got her shoes off and stood there across from him, looking sexier than anyone he’d ever seen before. She wasn’t even doing anything to tempt him, just being Melinda, and honestly that was all that it took. He walked toward her, catching her in his arms and pulling her more fully against him, so that they were pressed together from chest to pelvis. He kissed her slowly, thoroughly and very deeply. He caught her earlobe between his teeth.

“I need you now,” he said.

“Here?” she asked, but it was what she wanted and needed as well. There was something about Slade that made her forget all her normal rules of behavior. He called to something wild inside of her.

The city of Houston was spread out behind them, but she wanted him. She walked over to the glass doors and glanced at her dog as she played in her yard area. Slade came up behind her and slowly drew the zipper down the side of her dress and she shivered as his finger brushed against her side.

“Right here,” he said, as he lifted the back of her dress up until she felt the brush of his trousers against the back of her legs.

He reached down and traced the fabric of her thong, his finger running on the edge of her crack and making her hips arch instinctively.

She put one hand on the glass door in front of them, as she heard him lowering his zipper and then felt the heat of him against her. His erection rubbed against her backside as he held her to him with his hand on her stomach.

She arched back against him as he kissed the column of her neck and sucked against the point where it met her shoulder.

His hands moved along her stomach and lower, pushing her underwear down her body and she worked them down to her feet. She pushed her hips back as she stepped out of them, her backside rubbing against his erection. He groaned and clenched her waist.

He put his hands over hers on the glass, lacing their fingers together as she felt him thrusting against her. He shifted his hips back until the tip of his erection was at the entrance of her body. She bit her lower lip as he entered her slowly, her head falling back against his shoulder, turning until their lips met.

He sucked her tongue into his mouth as he drove deep inside her. She moaned, arching against him to take him deeper, and he held her tightly to him with his hand on her stomach as he drove himself in and out of her body.

She felt so close to coming but wanted to draw this out and make it last. But really, could anything with Slade Bartelli last? She knew it was fleeting. Full of more emotion than she’d ever experienced before and probably something she’d miss for the rest of life once he walked out of it.

Tears burned her eyes and she ripped her mouth from his, turning her head away from him. In the reflection of the glass, she caught a glimpse of him and was dazzled by the intensity in his gaze as he moved in and out of her body. When their eyes met, she saw so much in him that she wanted to see. Wanted to believe.

Before she could finish the thought, his hand on her stomach moved lower. He rubbed her clit just the way she liked it and she felt herself tightening around him and then her climax burst through her. Spots danced in front of her eyes and she closed them as he thrust harder and faster into her until he came, calling her name. His head was buried in her back between her shoulder blades and he held her so tightly. She wanted him to keep holding her this way. To never let her go. But that wasn’t possible.

He turned her in his arms, putting his hand under her chin and tipping her head back. She felt the tears stir again, knew it was because the sex had been so good. She wanted to make herself believe that he was going to stay. That he was going to be her man not just for these few more weeks but forever.

He brushed the tears away with his thumbs.

“Aw, baby cakes, don’t cry.”

She nodded and put her face in his chest against the fabric of his shirt, but as he rubbed her back, the tears continued to fall. She had to start being real with herself about Slade Bartelli.

She loved him.

She had been pretending that wasn’t the case for a while, but it was. And she wanted him to be her fiancé not to get the paparazzi off their tail but because he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

“Every time I try to make things better, I make them worse,” he said, his voice full of something close to regret or maybe loathing.

“No. It’s not you. You’ve always been honest with me,” she admitted.

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