Page 96 of The Wrong Husband

"This luscious peach of an arse is mine. Did you forget?" To mark his words, he places his palms on my butt and squeezes hard.

I jump, more from the cortical stimulation than shock, which turns my already wet pussy into even more of a puddle.

He must notice my consternation because his eyes light up with interest. "Does that turn you on? You like being slapped and squeezed, eh?"

Yes. Yes.I shake my head. "You surprised me, that’s all."

A knowing smile curves his lips. Before he can call me out on my blatant lie, I round the island and plonk myself back in my seat.

"If you think you’re torturing me with these orgasms, you’re wrong. It’s gratifying, actually."

"But for how long?" He twirls some of the pasta and holds it to his mouth. Then, the showoff slides it between his teeth and sucks the strands off the tines.Oh my God.

Despite just orgasming, I’m instantly horny. Again. My clit throbs. My heart descends to between my legs. My own food forgotten, I watch, fascinated at the deeply erotic tableau of Connor Davenport licking the fork with his tongue before going right back in to repeat the action. This time, when he sucks off the pasta, it’s as if he’s drawn my clit between his lips. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to stop the emptiness that dawns between my legs. Is it possible for him to turn me on by the simple act of eating?

He arches an eyebrow at me, all indolence and superior attitude. I blow out a breath and reach for my food.

"Want me to eat your pussy instead?" he asks casually.

My fork clatters onto the plate. "Jesus Christ, cut me a break, will ya?"

He chuckles. "I was only offering to ease your discomfort, Doc. Don’t like to see you unfulfilled."

I tip up my chin. "I’m fine."

"You don’t look fine. In fact, I’d say"—he scans my features with a pointed look—"elevated heartbeat, erratic pulse rate, temperature surge. All the signs of autonomous nervous system activation. You look like you could do with another orgasm."

"I’m aware of what you said. Also"—I knit my brows—"where did you pick up the medical terminology?"

"I read up on it."

"You did?" I’m strangely pleased by the fact that he cared enough to research medical terms, and then used them in his daily parlance in a way that makes sense. But I’m alsodisconcerted. I already told him I’ll marry him, so there's no need to put himself out like this.

I’d called him a unicorn, but he’s even more rare. Like a sterile surface in a trauma bay, which has never ever happened.

"Why would you do that?"

He shoots me a look from under those very masculine brows. There’s no mistaking the heat in his eyes. But there’s also reproach. He slowly places his fork in his plate, then takes my hand in his. "Because… I love your nerdy references, and how you tend to use doctor speak whenever you want to be more eloquent, and also, when you want to hide your feelings."

Holy myocardial infarction.He used the L word. In a different context—but still. He. Used. The. L. Word. My heart starts galloping like it’s being chased down a dark alley by a pack of wild adrenaline molecules.

I swear, he did it on purpose. Like a slip that wasn’t a slip at all. Like maybe, his feelings already run deeper than he’s letting on.

And suddenly, I’m breathless. Excited. Lightheaded, like I’ve stood up too fast after a night on call.

I have a feeling; I’m on the verge of something momentous with him—the kind of moment you only recognize after it’s cracked your world wide open.

"I don’t hide my feelings,” I manage to reply to his earlier comment.

When his cerulean gaze slices through me like the beam of a submarine cutting through the murky dark in deep sea, heat flushes my cheeks.

"Okay, maybe I do. Sometimes." I dip my chin.

"Only sometimes?" he asks gently.

My heart squeezes. The soft reproach in his voice somehow affects me more than his de facto dominant nature.Life with this man will never be boring.It’ll be more intense than being pagedinto a crash call in the middle of a double shift, and I’ll love every moment of it.

"Hey, look at me.” His voice grows even more tender, if that were possible.