Page 111 of Deathtoll

Fine. Time to find her backbone. They would just have to see who could hold out longer. She drew her hands from his neck and braced them on the wainscotting, a move that gave her more leverage and put enough distance between them so he could have a better view of her breasts.

His nostrils flared. “You don’t fight fair.”

He withdrew his hand from under her thigh and braced them on either side of her head.

Since she lost some of her support, she had to hold his waist tighter with her legs, but he would not let her pull him in. He stood his ground, even when her traitorous body squirmed for more of him.

His biceps bulged in her peripheral vision. His wide chest blocked the sight of the rest of the world. She didn’t miss anyone or anything in it.

His head was tilted slightly down to hers, tendons protruding in his neck from the effort to hold the line.

“You’re going to bust your stitches.”

“I don’t care.” He was a hulking beast, piercing her with his hungry gaze, ready to devour her.

She wanted to be devoured, dammit!

Trouble was, she had no room to maneuver. She considered shoving off the wall and pushing herself onto him. She wanted, desperately, for him to fill her. But if she jumped on him and slid down on his…

What if she brokeit?

For some reason, in the moment, she found the thought hysterical, and a peal of laughter escaped her.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. “You find this funny?”

She found none of it funny. With him pressed a single maddening inch inside her, she found everythingurgent. She shook her head, pressing her lips together. “My emotions are all over the place. Do you think I’m hormonal?”

His eyes narrowed further. “Is this a trap? I don’t think that’s a word a man should ever say to a woman.”

“Did they teach you that in some police self-defense class?” How were they still conversing? She was about to lose her damn mind, if he didn’t fill her the next second.

“They should have. It’s a shame how many things men are forced to find out about women the hard way.”

A perfect pun floated somewhere in her brain about something else hard, but her brain was shutting down rapidly.

He bent his head closer.

Oh, a kiss. Yes, please.

Instead, he dipped lower, and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Her extremelysensitivenipple. Because, had she not mentioned, her nipples had been growing more and more sensitive lately—thank you, pregnancy.

He not only sucked the throbbing, aching peak of flesh, he sucked it in hard. And then he bit it.

Pleasure rushed through her, a blinding heat. When he sucked again, at a more leisurely pace this time, she nearly came.

She waved an imaginary white flag. “I promise I’m not going to change my mind about the wedding.”

He was inside her before the last word left her lips. All the way.Sweet truffle paradise.Had he grown? She wasn’t even joking.

Her body stretched to welcome him back. “I missed you. Does that sound stupid? We saw each other every day.”

“Not like this,” he said as he made love to her with a thoroughness that deserved a commemorative plaque, or a newspaper mention at the least.

When he dedicated his mind to something, he got the job done. That was Murph.

Her back bowed, her body drowning in pleasure. As she held on to his shoulders, she could barely gasp out the words, “Not like this.”

Her body flew. Her mind cleared of all thought. For endless moments, she floated in bliss.