Page 90 of The Wrong Husband

I want to feel the bite of his command, the unwavering absorption of being at his center of attention. To have him pay attention to my every move, as he does when we’re together. I want to feel his skin on mine, his fingers on me, his cock inside me, his voice ordering me.

I want to fold for him—slow, exact—shaped like a piece of clay in his hands.

I'm a blank page, waiting for him to create a story through me.Ourstory.

Tying my future to Connor’s is like gripping a blazing rocket—its core aglow, trembling with power—on the brink of ignition, poised to ferry us both beyond the stratosphere. It feels electric. True. Organic. My pulse races with an exhilarating charge, as if every nerve is awake and alive.

The charge builds in my chest, races down my limbs, sets every nerve alight.

It’s electric. Raw. Like my heart skipped a beat—then found a rhythm that only exists when he’s near. My body knows it before my brain can catch up—this isn’t just adrenaline.

This is resuscitation. This is breath.

This is us. Alive. Vital. Real.

Before Connor, I almost surrendered—to the comfort of a safe lie, to the illusion that I was content, when I wasn’t. Now I realize, I would have traded my own happiness for safety.

To think, unaware that meeting Connor was just around the corner, I might have settled down for half a life instead of something magnificent.

With Connor, my instinct tells me it will be different. There are hidden corners to this man which excite me and make me want to find out more. Make me want to tease his secrets out and find out everything about him.

He wants to own me… Yet he’s confessed that he belongs to me, too. I didn’t seethatcoming. The thought burns hot under my skin.

He runs his nose up the column of my neck. "You smell delicious. Roses, jasmine, and vanilla. It drives me crazy."

"A mix of my conditioner and my lotion," I say on a breathless note.

He licks the skin under my ear, and I shiver. Goosebumps pop on my skin. My nipples are so hard, they hurt.

"Connor." I dig my fingers into his wide shoulders, enjoying their breadth, the cut of the muscles there, stretching the jacket he wears. The leather is beaten and worn smooth, and its scent adds a distinctive note.

"Hmm?" He nibbles on my ear lobe, tugging on it, then sucking it. My core quivers. My belly seizes up. That yawning hole in my center just got bigger, spreading to my extremities. I’m a black hole of longing, wanting… Waiting for him to fill me up.

Tiny tendrils of need curl their tentacles around me, digging their claws into my skin, and opening pathways of sensations I didn’t know I possessed. I’m burning up. And I have a feeling, if I don’t get him to move, this is going to reach its logical conclusion, with him taking me right here on his bed.And I want that.I want him to possess me under his roof where I’m surrounded by the signs of his presence. But not yet.

Maybe I’m more traditional than I care to admit—because if we’re getting married, then shouldn’t our first time be on our wedding night?

The thought sends a thrill down my spine.

What’s strange is, I never felt that way with Drew. It never even crossed my mind to wait. I didn’t care enough to make it meaningful.

That alone should’ve screamed that something was wrong. That I was settling for comfort over connection. For convenience over passion.

Besides, I want to see if Connor can hold out until then? Once he fucks me, I’m not going to be able to think straight. And I want to save that feeling. As if on cue, my stomach growls.

He stills. “You’re hungry?”

I am, and not just for food. I want to feel him inside of me, but that sounds so corny, I don’t say it aloud. Instead, I nod.

He pulls back, eyelids hooded, pupils blown wide, so the black swallows up everything but for a ring of electric blue around the irises. His eyes seem even more piercing. Like a solar eclipse edged in cold fire.

He rolls off me and to his feet. I instantly miss his warmth. His weight on me. His scent surrounding me. Then he holds out his hand, and when I take it, he pulls me to my feet. "Let’s get some food into you."

32

Connor

"How did you find the time to learn to cook?" I pop the cork on the bottle of red I retrieved from my personal collection, then pour it into two glasses.