Page 41 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)
"You’re the doctor. You work there. You have firsthand knowledge of how important its services are to the community.
So absolutely, I want you to draw up the proposal making the case why the ER needs to stay open.
Why don’t you send it to me in the next few days, and I’ll make sure it gets to the PM.
She places her fork down on the plate and pats her mouth with her paper napkin. Then she slides off the stool, moves around the breakfast counter, and throws herself into my arms.
I catch her, haul her into my lap, and she straddles me. She locks her fingers around my neck and looks up into my face.
"Remember what I said earlier about you being handsome, and built, and arrogant?"
"Yes?" I offer warily.
"Add sensitive, empathetic and caring."
I hitch up the left side of my mouth. "I take it, that’s good?"
She swallows, a myriad of different emotions flitting across her features. "It’s very good," she confirms. "And so sexy."
Her lashes dip, a sensual tension gathering around her eyes. "That you’re confident and so self-assured is a turn on. But add on that you’re not an asshole. That”—she licks her lips, her gaze on mine—"you’re perceptive enough to include me in this initiative.
You have no reason to do so. In fact, you don’t need me. You could reach out to the Prime Minister and use the influence in your network to deliver on this for me. You could use this as negotiating tool, but instead you've decided to give me agency in this."
"There is no way I would not involve you in this bid to save the ER."
Her lips curve, admiration softening her gaze. “You’re that rare mix—a commanding, confident man who’s also emotionally open.”
“Only with you,” I say, my voice low. “When I’m undercover, I’m never really myself. I’m always playing a part. I might feel things—but it’s the character who feels them, not me. My real emotions, my preferences—they stay locked away.”
I rake a hand through my hair, tension settling across my shoulders. “When I’m in that world, I suppress everything real. It’s the only way to survive. To get the job done.”
I widen my stance and plant my feet, like I need the reminder I’m here. With her.
“But with you, it’s different. I can feel. Really feel. You bring out parts of me I buried a long time ago. With you, I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to hide. I can just…be.”
“I feel that too,” she murmurs. “You know me in ways no one else does. Sometimes, it blows my mind how much.”
I do have prior knowledge of her preferences from stalking her. Guilt pricks at my subconscious mind. I push it aside. If it helped to get her to stay with me, then surely, it was worth it?
To distract myself—and her—I drawl, “Of course, there are other parts of me which I would love for you to blow them, too."
She rolls her eyes. "And I was just beginning to think I made the right choice in marrying a man who’s a virtual stranger. You don’t have to be a bossy bastard just for the sake of being one."
"Oh?" I slide my hands down to cover her arse cheeks and squeeze. "You don’t tell me what to do."
Her eyes widen, the color of her pupils leaching out to indicate her arousal.
"And there he is," she says breathlessly.
"I was always here, baby. I simply had to show you there's more than one side to me. Don’t try to categorize me; you can’t." I position her over the bulge in my crotch and am rewarded by a subtle shiver that travels up her spine.
"Connor," she says on that tiny whimper that makes me want to throw her down and fuck into her.
"Damn." I survey her features, including those rosy lips I haven’t been able to resist since I first saw them. "You turn me into a walking hard-on."
"Oh?" She draws her gaze from my mouth, up over the contours of my face.
"Physiologically, arousal in men is a cascade triggered by visual, tactile, or psychological stimuli. The hypothalamus activates the sympathetic nervous system, increasing heart rate, dilating blood vessels, and redirecting blood flow—specifically to the corpus cavernosum of the penis. It’s not subtle.
Increased oxygenated blood causes an erection. "
She grinds down on said part of my body, which exhibits the reaction she outlined.
"Pulse rate spikes. Skin flushes. Pupils dilate.
Voice deepens. Testosterone may surge. All very textbook.
" She bites down on her lower lip. "But sometimes, it’s not about biology, at all. Sometimes it’s…
Proximity. Eye contact." She tips up her chin and looks me in the eye.
"A whisper." She lowers her voice until it reflects that breathy inflection which drives me crazy.
"And sometimes, it’s because a woman says the word penis in a clinical tone, and a man still reacts. " She winks.
The blood drains to my groin. My balls are so hard, it feels like they’ve been replaced by Colt Pythons.
"Fuck," I swear against her lips. "When you talk dirty in your medical jargon, you kill me."
She smiles a tiny, secret smile.
"But you should know"—I increase my pressure on her luscious butt cheeks—"I have no intention of consummating our relationship until we’re married."
I position her core over the tent at my crotch, then push down on her hips so she’s grinding down on it.
She sucks in a breath, a darker color blooming across her cheeks.
It isn’t until I say it aloud that I realize how much I mean it.
When I first held back from making love to her, it was unintentional—but once it became clear I wanted to marry her…
There's a particular satisfaction in knowing that the first time I’ll be inside of her is when we're husband and wife.
Her gaze widens. “Didn’t take you to be traditional.”
“Didn’t think I was.” I twist my lips. "You, my beauty, bring out a primal part of me I didn’t know existed. I want to own you, in every way possible, before I have my wicked way with you."
A part of me hopes this will make her agree to get married sooner than later.
I know she wants me. I can feel it. When I run my nose up the curve where her shoulder meets her throat, she quivers.
When I bury my nose in the hollow at the base of her throat, the aroma of her arousal blooms in the air. Which only turns me on further.
She whimpers; her chest rises and falls. She begins to hump her fabric-covered core over my rock-hard crotch. She locks her arms firmly around my neck, curves her spine, and arches her neck. I take what’s offered and drag my whiskered chin down her décolletage, to the valley between her breasts.
"Connor." Her voice is husky and filled with so much need.
My name on her lips turns me on, sets my skin on fire. The blood begins to pound at my temples. "What do you need, Fever?"
"You, I need you."
"Hmm, show me how much." I wrap my fingers around her hair and tug just enough, knowing it will spark off pinpricks of sensation under her scalp.
Sure enough, she shudders and begins to squirm in my hold. She locks her knees around my waist and squeezes down, grinding the hard nub of her clit against the outline of my cock.
"Oh my God." She groans and shudders, then tightens her hold around my neck. Her thigh muscles quiver, and her movements get more frantic. "I’m so close. So very close."
I wrap my other hand around her throat and squeeze, just enough to slow down the air through her lungs. She opens her heavy lids, and in her eyes is a mixture of lust and curiosity.
When her body bucks of its own accord, she opens her mouth and pants. "Asphyxiation. Meaning, oxygen deprivation used to amplify arousal. By restricting airflow, you stimulate the release of adrenaline and dopamine—intensifying sensation, blood flow, and emotional high. Risky, if mishandled."
She licks her lips, her cheeks stained red, the hazel of her eyes a shining emerald signaling just how turned on she is.
"But when done with trust and precision?" Her throat moves as she swallows. "It’s like hacking the brain’s pleasure circuitry.”
A bloom of satisfaction bursts in my chest and extends to my extremities.
Every part of my body is honed in on her, the mission clear now in my mind.
Make her come, like she never has before, in her life.
Give her so much pleasure, she’ll be high on endorphins and will agree to what I want. Manipulative? Maybe.
But when it’s an honest byproduct of how much she’s going to love what I do to her, surely, it can’t be that bad.
"Good answer. I do believe you’ve earned this ride." I grasp her hip with my free hand. "Hold on."