Page 65 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

Phoenix

To say this is the most intense orgasm I've had so far does not do it justice.

The sensations pound through my body, jangling my nerve endings, thrumming up my spine, until they bounce around my head and push me over a cliff.

I ride what seems to be a Niagara Falls force of waterfall over a sharp edge.

I feel his heat at my back, his cock still thick and heavy inside me.

I feel him give a guttural cry and follow me down.

Then I’m floating, sinking, slowly coming into myself.

Feeling the heat of his body pinning me down, even though he’s got his arms planted on either side of me so he’s barely leaning on me.

But the flickers of electricity which seem to sizzle off him, cause the hair on my arms and back of my neck to rise.

My eyelids feel weighed down, my arms and legs so heavy. I’m unable to stop myself from slumping into the bed. For a few seconds, he leans more of his weight on me. The ridges of his chest dig into my back. The warmth rolling off of him scorches my skin. He’s still inside me. On me. All around me.

His body holding me down is the most secure feeling in the world. I revel in that absolute bliss that comes with a postcoital glow. A sensation even more intense than the last few times he made love to me. This time… There was abandon. As if he lost control and showed more of himself to me.

Perhaps, the secrets I kept from him were holding me back, but his finding out the most vulnerable aspects of me seems to have pushed him to open himself fully to me.

My bones feel like they’ve melted. I’m wrapped up in him, and floating in a sensation which can only be described as completely being at peace.

The sound of his breathing intertwines with mine. The vibrations of his heart beating against mine sink into my blood, surrounding my heart in a nest of serenity.

The rasp of the hair on his legs as he moves them against mine. The power in his thighs. The ridge of his pelvic bone digging into the raw skin of my butt, the corded tendons of his biceps bracketing my body… All of it is imprinted into my flesh and seared into my brain cells.

The silence stretches, and then something vibrates as if from far away. It infiltrates my consciousness and sends a tremor of uncertainty down my spine.

I push up through the layers of comfort cocooning me. Then wince when he pulls out of me. He kisses the back of my head.

"I should take this." He rolls off, and there’s a sucking sound as he peels his skin off mine. Instantly, I feel like I've lost a part of myself, the heat replaced by the cooler air in the room as the sweat on my back begins to dry.

I sense him moving around. There's the rustle of fabric as he reaches for the phone in his pants.

"Davenport."

I listen to the sound of someone speaking on the other side, the words illegible.

"Now?" I sense him snapping to attention. "You sure about that?"

Something in his voice makes me roll over on my back and sit up. Ouch. Let’s just say my gluteus maximus is registering a level of discomfort consistent with a low-grade contusion. Meaning: my ass hurts.

He rubs the back of his neck. "Right. Of course." He holds the phone between his chin and shoulder, and steps into his pants. He listens again. "I’ll be there.”

"What’s wrong?" I frown. "Who called you?"

He blows out a breath, then leans up and kisses me firmly.

He licks on my lips, and when I part them, he thrusts his tongue inside my mouth.

There’s something desperate about his actions, something uncontrolled, different from the dominance he exuded earlier…

This is…frenzied. Almost urgent. It’s why, instead of allowing myself to be distracted by him, I manage to tear my mouth from his and scowl. "Tell me."

He arches an eyebrow. "You don’t tell me what to do."

"In this case, I do, because you’re hiding something from me."

He seems taken aback. "Oh, yeah? And you know that, how?"

"I am your wife. And when you’re stressed you have a tell."

"A tell?" he scoffs.

"Here"—I trace the furrow between his eyebrows—"and here"—I rub at the nerve throbbing at his temple.

His face softens. "Damn." He continues to look at me with wonder in his eyes. "No one’s noticed that before.”

A warm sensation squeezes my chest. "You haven’t been married to anyone else before, have you?"

A tenderness fills his gaze. He kisses me again, then sits up. "I have to leave."

What? The starkness of his words dispels the lazy, lusty feelings that were crowding my mind.

I sit up, then swing my legs over and stand up. Walking around the bed, I grab my dress and pull it on.

"Leave? Where?"

"Save the Kids. We received the coordinates of where the rebels are holding the supplies. I need to head there right away and negotiate the release, or else a lot of children will die."

Panic slams into my chest like a defibrillator. I can barely breathe.

You said you wouldn’t take on any more missions.” My voice cracks.

“This isn’t a mission for the government. This is something I’m undertaking on my own.”

I stare at him, disbelief mixing with dread.

Of course, he’s doing this. It’s who he is.

The man who can’t walk away from a fight when innocent lives are on the line.

It’s what drew me to him. His integrity.

His relentless drive to do good, no matter the cost. To use his money to help those in need.

But to put himself at risk now? When I just got him. When I'm finally free to be with him in every way.

Why does it have to be now?

Why does it have to be him?

A chill races down my spine. I sink down next to him, my legs unable to hold me up any longer.

"Can’t…someone else do this?"

He shakes his head. "I'm the only with the experience, the resources, and the influence to negotiate something like this."

"Of course. I have no doubt you’re the best person for the job. And of course, the children need you, but—" I take his hand in mine. "I don’t want you to go."

"Eh?" He seems surprised.

"It’s just… I can’t explain it. I have a bad feeling about this."

Once again, his expression melts into something gentler.

Something unguarded. I can see the love in his eyes.

The vulnerability. The feelings he has for me.

I reach up and wrap my arm about his neck and burrow into him.

I want to tell him, "I love you" because I do. But something stops me. Maybe, it’s because I’m burned from my last relationship.

Maybe, I’m having to teach myself how to trust all over again.

Though I do trust him. More than anyone else.

I open my mouth to tell him, but nothing comes out.

Instead, I hug him tightly and burst out, "Don’t go, please. "

"Hey, hey, it’s okay. I know what I’m doing."

"I have no doubt. But it sounds dangerous. Which country are you going to, anyway?"

He hesitates. "I can’t tell you. It’s better I don’t, for your safety."

I nod. "Either way, you’ll be putting yourself in danger."

"For a good cause. If anyone can get them to release the supplies needed, it’s me." He hesitates. "I won’t lie and say it’s completely safe; it’s not. But I've carried out plenty of such assignments in the past. I’ll be in and out in no time. Besides, I won’t be going alone."

"You won’t?"

He shakes his head. "I’ll have the best team from my uncle Quentin’s security agency with me."

"But you’ll be the one actually negotiating with the terrorists."

"I’m the most skilled at it." He cups my cheek. "I’m sorry for putting you through this. But I’m already committed. I can’t back out."

Of course, I understand. Right? "I want to say I’m selfless enough to say, of course, you’re right, and you should do it.

And I know you should, but"—I frame his beloved face and look into those startling blue eyes—"Connor, I wish you didn’t have to go.

" I swallow. "Not that I’ll stop you. I know those children are counting on you. "

A tear runs down my cheek. He wipes it away. "I’ll be back so soon. You won't even realize I’m gone.”

Not likely, but I’m going to put on a brave front. I’m going to wish him luck and send him off, and then I’m going to spend every second praying for his safe return.

"Promise me." I take both of his hands in mine and kiss him hard. "Promise me, you’ll come back to me."