Chapter 28
DRED
Connor laces our fingers and leads me across the rough-hewn hardwood floor into the bedroom.
Like the living room, the wall facing the lake is all windows.
Pines and maples frame the cabin, but don’t obscure the view.
Vases of fragrant night lilies dot every surface in the room.
To the right, in front of the windows, is a barrel chair piled with pillows and throw blankets, a table stacked with books beside it.
From the spines I can see they’re my favorites.
Connor doesn’t have to tell me he likes me with his words, because he keeps showing me with his actions that he pays attention to the things that bring me joy.
“This is incredible,” I whisper.
Connor exhales a relieved breath. “Good. I’m glad I got it right.”
I turn to face him. “It’s perfect. All my favorite things are right here.” I settle a hand on his chest. “You promised I could play with you when we were alone again.”
He hums his agreement. “I did say that.”
“And we’re definitely alone.”
His eyes darken as my fingers drift down his broad chest. “Then it looks like I’m yours to do with as you please.”
I slide a hand under the hem of his shirt, the fabric bunching as I smooth my fingers over his warm, tattooed skin.
Connor bows to make it easier for me to pull the shirt over his head.
He straightens and runs a hand through his hair, smoothing out the strands. They settle obediently back into place.
I trace the cursive letters on his chest that spell Catch Me above a falling angel.
His entire chest, stomach, arms, and back are covered in pieces that tell his story.
Some are vibrant in full color, like the landscape that frames his chest on either side of the black-and-white angel.
Flowers trail over his right shoulder, leading to a wolf on his bicep.
Trees wrap around his forearm, and a gorgeous, full-color loon floats on the surface of a calm lake.
His left arm is covered in mythology, gods and angels from history tumbling across his skin.
“Your art is magnificent.” I skim the wings of the falling angel, his muscles jumping under my touch.
“I’ll tell my artist you said so the next time I see her.”
A spike of heat shoots down my spine. “You must see her fairly regularly.”
“Most of the pieces require multiple sessions.”
“I’m sure that’s a real hardship for her.” I don’t mean for it to come out with bite, but it does.
He grins. “You sound jealous, wife.” He cups my cheek in his palm.
“Maybe I should come with you next time,” I suggest. “So I can see if there’s anything to be jealous of.” How deep into his life will he let me go? How close do I want to get?
“If you’d like.” He tucks my hair behind the ear with the falling star tattoo. “Maybe you want to add to your own art.”
“I just might.” I pop the button on his pants and pull the zipper down.
Connor’s lids are low, his eyes sparking as I tug his pants down his thick, muscular thighs, leaving him in nothing but boxer briefs and socks.
He’s all taut muscles—broad shoulders, a defined chest, and rippling abs all painted in stunning designs.
His deep V disappears under the black waistband of his boxer briefs.
His erection presses against the fabric.
He watches me intently as I follow the line bisecting his abs and gently cup him through his boxers. His eyes slide closed, and goose bumps rise along his skin as I curve my hand around him through the cotton and stroke from base to tip. Connor’s head falls forward on a deep groan.
When was the last time I touched someone like this? It’s been ages since I’ve come for anyone but myself—apart from last night.
My hand leaves his body, and his eyes flip open, flashing with disappointment. Until I pull my sweater over my head and let it fall to the floor—then they ignite with lust.
“Would it be fair for me to undress you if you’re undressing me, darling?” His voice is low and guttural.
“Was it fair of you to deny me the chance to touch you last night?”
“You were in quite the state,” he reminds me. “I wanted you to have a clear head before you started doing things you might have reconsidered come morning.”
“But you denied me again this morning,” I remind him as I trace the letters on his chest.
“In the name of hydration and time with your friends,” he counters as he kisses the back of my hand. “Evil, I know, but I was thinking of your personal well-being and happiness.”
I sigh. I was hungover this morning. I doubt I would have appreciated him the way I can now. “I suppose, in the spirit of giving, we could undress each other.”
“Mm...” He kisses my shoulder and reaches behind me, flicking the clasp of my bra.
“Such a sweet, generous wife.” The fabric slides down my arms, and I let it fall to the floor as Connor drops to one knee.
He rids me of my pants, then my socks and panties.
But he doesn’t make a move to touch any aching part of me.
Instead he presses his lips to my strawberry blossom and ladybug tattoo. “So pretty and delicate.”
He looks up at me. “What should we do now that all our secrets are on display, darling?”
I pull myself up onto the bed and slide back, patting the space to my right. “Come join me.”
He climbs up and stretches out. I’m five five, so slightly above average, but Connor is huge, well over six feet of broad, thickly muscled, tattooed man.
Yet I feel safe with him, comfortable and protected.
When his head rests on the pillow I straddle his thighs and settle my bare pussy over his still-covered erection.
Connor exhales on a groan. “Little menace.”
Palms splayed on his chest, I roll my hips, rubbing my clit against him as I dip down and brush my lips over his. Between one breath and the next, he flips us over.
“What are you doing?” I run my fingers through his hair. “I thought it was my turn to play with you.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” He kisses my chin. “And how unbalanced things have been.”
“Unbalanced how?” I’m already breathless and aching for his touch.
Sure, I can get off without contact, but it takes so much mental effort. Everything has to be perfect, my mind clear with no distractions and the right voice in my head, whispering all the things I want to hear.
He peppers kisses along my jaw. “You’ve been playing with me for a while now, being sneaky about it, like the pretty devil you are.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My eyes fall closed as his lips skim my neck. His tongue presses against my clavicle, followed by a gentle grip of teeth that sparks heat between my thighs.
“Of course you don’t.” He takes my earlobe in his mouth.
“What sneaky things have I done?”
“Falling asleep in the library every night.”
I bite back a grin. “I’m not being sneaky. I like it there, and it feels safe.”
“You like it when I carry you back to bed.”
I love it when he carries me back to bed. “I’d be fine on the couch,” I assure him in a bored voice. “I’ve told you as much.”
He makes a noise in the back of his throat, lips skimming my collarbone. “You never have enough blankets.”
“I don’t need more blankets when you insist on relocating me every night,” I argue.
“You’re proving my point, darling, not your own.” His cheek brushes my nipple, and he lifts his gaze. “Close your eyes for me.”
“Why?”
“I want to play a game with you.”
My apprehension must be written all over my face.
“If you don’t like it, we’ll stop. But I think you might not be opposed.” Another soft kiss. “Have I taken good care of you so far?”
I swallow down the anxiety. “Yes.”
“Do you trust that I always want to make you happy?”
I soften at the hope and fear swimming behind his eyes. “Yes, Connor, I trust you.” I close my eyes.
The weight of his body leaves me.
I crack a lid. “What are you doing?”
“Eyes closed.” When I comply, he leans over me and presses his velvet lips to each lid. “I’m going to worship every inch of you, like a good, devoted husband.”
His hair tickles my neck as he kisses the hollow of my throat.
The sound of our breathing fills the room, and the bed dips just before his hair brushes my collarbones. Anticipation makes my heart race as he leaves several open-mouthed kisses on the swell of my breasts, the deep rumble from his chest heating me from the inside.
His breath tickles my skin. “Would you like to keep playing?”
“Yes, please.”
His fingers find mine, and he brings them to his cheek. “Can I trust you to keep your eyes closed?”
“Yes, you can trust me.”
“Such a sweet menace.” He kisses my fingertips and the warmth soaks into my skin, rushing through my veins.
Something tickles my stomach—not his fingers, or his hair or his mouth. I gasp and shiver. “What is that?”
“Tell me how it feels.” Another soft sweep across my belly, followed by the scrape of his teeth on the edge of my jaw.
I moan and sigh, already in love with the discordant sensations. “It’s a…feather?”
“That’s right, darling.” His lips close around a nipple, sucking softly as that feather brushes between my thighs. He follows with a nip of teeth, a gentle swipe of tongue, and a rough suck.
Every time I think he plans to kiss or touch me where I want it most, he moves away. His mouth dips lower, past my navel. Warm, wet kisses anoint my overheated skin, my soft sighs and his groans filling the space around us.
All I am is want. I’m drenched in desire as sensation spirals. I grip the sheets, toes curling as he circles and circles, closing in.
“Connor, please…” I whimper.
“Do you want the game to end?” His lips brush the juncture of my thigh with every word.
“You’re pure evil.” I groan, hips rolling against nothing.
“The devil himself,” he agrees.
He pushes my legs wide, and then his hot mouth is on me, tongue sliding over sensitive skin, the sharp bite of teeth against my inner thigh. The featherlight brush of his hair across my stomach nearly undoes me.
I’m shaking with need. Desperate for release.
And then his tongue glides through my slit, and the nip of teeth sends a shockwave through me. Connor’s deep groan vibrates against me, followed by deliciously rough suction. I bow up off the bed, toes curled, sheets fisted in my hands.
His mouth leaves me for one painful, interminable moment. “Open your eyes and look at me when I’m feasting on your perfect cunt, darling,” he demands.
I blink against the sudden brightness, taking in the sight of my husband, his broad shoulders forcing my legs wide, tattooed arms looped around my thighs, dark eyes heavy with lust.
He licks up the length of me and latches onto my clit.
I come in violent waves, moaning his name, pussy contracting around nothing as he laves me.
It’s intense—overwhelming and not enough at the same time.
I grip his hair and yank viciously when I can’t take any more.
He presses a kiss to my clit and prowls back up my body, lethal and gorgeous and mine—for now, I can’t help reminding myself.
I vow to enjoy every last minute while I have him.
“I need you inside me.” I push his boxer briefs over his hips—somewhere along the way his socks have disappeared, maybe while he was making me come with his mouth? Freeing his erection, I hook my leg over his hip, pulling him on top of me.
Connor gazes down at me, gentle fingers sliding into my hair. “Let me get a condom.”
There’s a heart-shaped box on the nightstand. He flips it open, grabs a foil square, and quickly rolls it down his length. And then he settles between my thighs, erection sliding over slick skin. Time slows. His face is a mask of desire as our bodies align.
He tenderly cups my face in his hands, the tremble nearly imperceptible. “If we go forward, we can’t go back,” he whispers.
“I know.” I touch his cheek. “Please, Connor.”
He pushes inside in one smooth stroke, a full-body shudder rolling through him.
This is so much more than sex. It’s more than sensation and need. I feel my heart opening as his lips brush mine and he whispers my name like a prayer.
In this perfect place, hidden away from the rest of the world, I can forget about the contract I signed. About the time limit we’ve set. About the reasons I said yes.
Here in this moment, I am claimed and claiming. I’m his, and he’s mine. And I never want us to end.