Page 39 of One Wild Wedding Weekend

Having a wild, illogical affair didn’t make the list.

But, oh, how she wanted him. She cupped his wide shoulders in her hands, feeling his strength, his undeniable masculinity.

She had never met a man more interesting, more entertaining, more able to make her yearn and burn for him.

“Just this once,” she said, rationalizing wildly to get what she wanted. “We’re not changing our status.”

His entire body tensed. “Of course not,” he said quietly. “Whatever you think is best, Daley.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m a spineless, weak-willed, ridiculous woman.”

He slid his hands into her hair and dragged her mouth to his. “I would never say such a thing. I think you’re perfect.”

Eight

Tristan scooped Daley into his arms and carried her down the hall to his bedroom. Earlier tonight he had felt like hell. Apparently, lust was a powerful narcotic. Now, he was invincible, all his aches and pains forgotten.

Daley smiled up at him. “I had no idea you were so strong. All my girly parts are impressed.”

“Brat.” He kicked open the door, strode to the bed and dumped her on the mattress. “I’m just getting started,” he promised.

When he sprawled beside her and yanked at the knot in her pants—technically his pants—he cursed as his fingers fumbled.

Daley tried to help. “Sorry. I double-knotted it.”

Finally, the knot gave way. He dragged the soft fabric to her ankles and tugged it free. “Lift your arms.” Soon, he had the T-shirt on the floor as well. He stared at her, his gaze roving greedily from her damp hair and appealing face to her feminine toes. “You’re incredibly alluring, Daley.”

Her cheeks had turned a delicate pink. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls who wear your clothes.”

“You might be the first,” he said.

“I find that hard to believe.” The words were quiet. A shadow of something flickered in those deep brown eyes.

He leaned over her, supporting himself on both hands. “Then believe this,” he said. His breath sawed in and out of his chest painfully. Desperation edged his words. “I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you. I fantasize about you every night. I’ve jerked off more in the last six weeks than the last six years. You’re a drug in my system. And I can’t go cold turkey. Lord knows, I’ve tried.”

“Get undressed,” she said, her gaze filled with the same spiraling need. “We’re wasting time.”

She didn’t have to ask him twice. “I’m not as grubby as I look,” he said, panting. “I showered this afternoon.”

“Not important.” She pulled his head down for a kiss.

Tristan moved his tongue against hers, trying to go slow, trying to be tender. But Daley was having none of it.

She curled her legs around his waist. “Hurry,” she begged. “Hurry.”

He entered her with one strong thrust. Little yellow spots danced in front of his eyes. The way her tight passage squeezed him was sheer magic. Beneath him, she was soft and impetuous—feminine and demanding.

Strong slender arms wrapped around his neck, threatening to strangle him. Not that he minded. What a way to go.

He moved in and out of her, setting up a rhythm that pleased them both.

Daley had closed her eyes at first, but now, she looked at him intently. As if she were searching for answers in his gaze.

Her eyes mesmerized him. The chocolate irises were almost eclipsed by her pupils. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip as if she were trying not to make noise.

He nuzzled her nose with his. “You can scream my name, darlin’, as loud as you want. No one will hear you.”

Somehow, she managed to lift her chin and give him a superior look. “You’re not that amazing, Mr. Hamilton. I think I can control myself.”

---