Page 76 of The Wrong Husband

My feet seem to move of their own accord, until I have her up against the glass wall of the conservatory. I press into her, adjusting her until her core is fitted right over the throbbing tent in my pants. She must feel it, for she gasps.

I swallow the sound, tilt my head, and revel in the lushness of her lips, the expansiveness of being able to drink from her.

Her heart thuds against mine. The pulse at the base of her neck beats as fast as mine. Her curves tremble, her body shudders, and when she digs her fingernails into the base of my neck, the burn races straight to the base of my spine.

When we break apart, I’m breathing hard, like I’ve sprinted. My muscles are rigid, my cock stabbing into my pants and begging to be let out. I take in her swollen lips, her flushed features, her hair tossed about her beautiful face. And something inside me shifts.

I’ve changed since I first glimpsed her. But now, I’ve crossed a point of no return.

"Did you mean it when you said you’ll marry me?"

She nods.

"And you’re doing this of your own volition?"

She nods again.

I peruse her face, see the emotions swirling in her eyes, in her trembling lips, the way the pulse races at her throat. But I also see how aroused she is. How she clings to me like she can’t let go. How she writhes against me, trying to rub up against the ridge of my cock.

I know she wants me. That she needs my body. That only I can satisfy the hunger I sense in her. But I want more than her body. I want her heart. Her soul. I want to understand her thoughts. Her innermost desires. I want to know her secret dreams. Her darkest yearnings, the ones she won’t admit even to herself. I want to own her. Possess her. Make her mine. I want to stamp the mark of my possession on her, in her, so the world knows she’s mine. Sosheknows she’s mine.

It’s what makes me pull back from the yawning abyss of my desire. Once I dive into it, there will be no looking back. And my instinct tells me, not yet. Right now, she’s the focus.

I notch my knuckles under her chin and tilt her head up, so I can capture her gaze. I want to accept her acquiescence and rush her off to the altar, but I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t reveal to her how much things have changed for me.

"You should realize that, while I told you this would be a marriage of convenience, I lied."

28

Phoenix

“You did?”

I wasn’t expecting that. I knew he hoped I’d fall for him, that I’d want to marry him for more than his money or name—but to hear him say he wants more than a fake marriage? That catches me off guard.

It also makes me realize, I’m in dangerous waters. Despite my best efforts, I’m drawn to this man. And thanks to his actions, I've begun to develop feelings for him. At this rate, I, too, will want more than just a marriage of convenience. I’m halfway to being in love with him, in such a short period of time.

"You need to understand that this is real for me.” His gaze grows intense. “Since I met you, I can’t stop thinking about you. It would be wrong of me not to tell you how I feel. That this marriage, for me, would be for keeps."

Hearing his words blows my mind. A shockwave seems to detonate in my chest, like a million feet are stamping against my sternum.

"Why would you say that?" I force the words out through a throat that seems to have developed swollen tonsils.

"Surely, it hasn't escaped your attention that I’m more than a little obsessed with you." To punctuate the point, he pushes into my core.

The hard column of his shaft rubs up against my clit. He’s so big, so well-endowed, I can feel each inch of his length through the clothes between us.

A shiver spirals up my spine. I can’t stop myself from panting. I’m so turned on, my toes curl. Moisture drips out from between my legs. It’s only my sympathetic nervous system kicking into overdrive. Vasodilation of the blood vessels in my vagina.

"My Bartholin glands are in good working order,"I squeak before I can stop myself.

The skin around his eyes creases. But he doesn’t smile or chuckle, which would make my mortification worse.

"Good to know," he remarks in a mild voice.

I clear my throat. "I often talk to myself, when I’m alone; it helps to, uh, understand my thoughts better."

"It helps with clarity." He nods, his expression very serious. "I like that you feel comfortable enough in my presence to do so."