Page 67 of The Temporary Bride

Fuck. This woman.

“You’re going to swallow everything I give you, aren’t you?” I rasp, looking down at her.

She pulls back just far enough to speak, her lips barely leaving me. “Yes.”

That one word unravels me.

I come with my fist buried in her hair and her name bursting out of my mouth on a low groan. The orgasm hits me so hard that my vision blurs at the edges and my body goes rigid.

She doesn’t stop, working me through it without pulling back, swallowing everything I give her, her hand stroking me steadily at the base until she’s lapped the last drop of cum from the tip of my cock. I’ve got absolutely nothing left. I slump back against the cushions, my chest heaving and every muscle going lax.

She pulls back slowly and looks up at me, lips swollen, eyes bright, her hair thoroughly wrecked from my fingers.

Fuck, she’s so damn gorgeous.

Reaching down, I pull her up onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her and kissing her before she can say a word. She kisses me back, her hands coming up to my chest, and fucking hell, she tastes like both of us. Even now, completely spent, I’m still hungry for more of her. And every time I get more, the desire doesn’t diminish, just finds something new to fixate on.

She pulls back eventually, slightly breathless, shifting against my lap with a small wince as her ankle catches.

“I think that helped my ankle too,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.

I laugh, my arms still loosely around her. “We should probably publish our findings. Make a real contribution to medical science.”

She grins at that, those dimples flashing in the low light, and I press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then her jaw. Now that my muscles are working again, I shift her in my arms and stand, scooping her up as I do.

“I can walk,” she protests.

“You can,” I agree, already heading for the stairs. “But you’re not going to.”

She sighs, long and theatrical, but she wraps her arms around my neck without further argument and lets me carry her up.

I set her down outside the bathroom, give her some time, then get cleaned up myself and climb into bed. A few minutes later, I hear the bathroom door open, and she pads across the darkened room and gets in beside me, pulling the covers up and settling into the mattress.

When I reach for her this time, she doesn’t move to her edge of the bed. She lets me pull her in against my side, shifting until her head is resting against my chest and her hand is draped over my abs. I can feel the moment she stops holding herself carefully apart from me and actually settles into it, her body going soft, her breathing starting to slow and even out.

I stay awake a little longer than she does, lying there in the dark with the sound of the ocean coming in through the cracked window and her hair against my jaw, tickling my skin.

“Goodnight, wife,” I whisper quietly into her hair.

Several seconds go by, long enough that I’m certain she’s already out. But then she speaks, her voice thick with sleep.

“Goodnight… husband.”

I’m still smiling when I close my eyes.

It’s a quarter past one when a sudden noise jolts me awake.

I sit up abruptly, my senses on high alert. Disoriented, I strain to pinpoint what broke me out of a deep sleep. The room is shrouded in darkness, and the sound of Chloe’s breathing fills the space next to me. Then I hear it again—a muffled, almost pained sound coming from her side of the bed.

Shit. That’s what woke me up. It’s her.

My heart clenches with sudden concern as I see her tossing and turning. Her face goes taut with distress as her breathing becomes more uneven, and her murmurs turn into soft, incoherent cries that make my stomach go tight. Not quite sure what to do, I reach out, gently shaking her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her from whatever nightmare she’s having.

“Hey,” I murmur. “It’s okay, dimples. It’s just a dream.”

Despite my efforts, Chloe’s distress only seems to intensify. Her movements become more frantic, her cries more desperate. It breaks my fucking heart, and I wrap my arms around her trembling form, pulling her close in an attempt to offer any comfort I can.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper soothingly, even though I have no idea if the words are breaking through. “You’re safe. I’m right here with you. It’s just a bad dream.”