Chapter Eight #2
Again and again and again he speared into her honeyed heat with the thought that somehow, he’d find the answers to life he’d been searching for throughout a string of years.
Then he couldn’t bear it and lowered his head, breaking that visual connection, but he hid that weakness by taking a nipple into his mouth, suckling it, flicking the tip of his tongue over it, even went so far as to deliver a light nip.
A shuddering moan issued from her and she bucked her hips. “Michael…” Her fingers tightened on his shoulder.
Choosing not to answer her with words, he released her wrist only to delve that hand between them, through the fabric of her skirting until he found the swelling button at her center.
It took only a few seconds of friction before she writhed against him with labored breathing.
Damn but he couldn’t wait to have her in restraints and draw out the foreplay, but for now, there wasn’t the time.
Just as she tipped over the edge and her contracting passage squeezed greedily at his shaft, he shoved into her once, twice more before he lost control on his reserve.
Tingling sensation raced through his stones.
Seconds later, he exploded into his own release.
His moan blended with hers, and burying his face into the crook of her shoulder, he ground his pelvis into hers while his prick pulsed.
It wasn’t until he’d shot his full wad that he forgot to pull out.
Damn his eyes. That was a sure mistake, and one that couldn’t happen again.
God, why did he feel as though he was addicted to her already?
It was troubling. He shouldn’t need her, for his quarry was in sight.
That was the mission, wasn’t it? Yet there was something mysterious about his new bride that he couldn’t puzzle out.
Never had he felt as twisted up inside over a woman as she’d done to him.
Why?
Moments of silence passed as the sounds of their ragged breathing filled the silence of the room. Eventually, though, he eased her leg down and then put distance between them.
“Now we have officially consummated our union.” He cursed himself as he put his clothing to rights. “I can’t promise you I won’t need you again before tonight, and I meant what I said before. I want to hear you scream.”
She snorted and tugged at her bodice until it properly covered her breasts. “Then perhaps you should take me in more private places than you have before. It might make me more comfortable about that.” Finally, she met his gaze. “Talk to me. Our union must be about more than carnal endeavors.”
“Not necessarily.” He turned away, not mentally prepared to confess all.
“Don’t shut me out. We are married now.”
“That doesn’t change anything, and you know it.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.” When she laid a hand on his shoulder, he whirled to face her. Immediately, she snapped her gaze to his. “Why were you arguing with Lord Echerson this morning?”
“I warned him away from you.”
“Why?”
He almost snarled then maintained control over his emotions at the last second. “I don’t want you talking to the viscount in society or out of it.”
A frown tugged at the corners of her kiss-swollen lips. “I have told you before that he is harmless. He was my husband’s best friend.”
“He wants you in his bed, wishes to fuck you.”
Shock went through her eyes. “I find that hard to believe. He’s flirted, of course, but he’s not made it known he was interested in me that way.”
A stab of jealousy went through Michael’s chest. “Did you know your husband told him that he could have you once he died? That the viscount wanted a ménage à trois with you while Marklesfield lived, but the marquess turned him down?”
“What?” Confusion shadowed her expression.
“Indeed. Echerson is problematic. I don’t want you around him. You belong to me, Evvie. I want your complete fidelity.” He knew he acted a heel, but couldn’t seem to stop.
Of course, that only stoked her stubbornness and defense. She popped her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I’m not an object to be possessed, Darkemore.”
The absence of his Christan name rankled. “Perhaps, but you are mine. Legally.”
Her chin went up a notch. “Don’t order me about.
I don’t care that we’re married or how the union the union came about.
You don’t have permission to treat me poorly.
I already lived through that; I won’t again, and this time I won’t hesitate to defend myself with whatever weapon I can find, as you well know. ”
A small, tight grin curved his lips, for she was clever and intelligent. His respect for her edge upward. “Fair enough.” He gave her a curt nod. “I apologize for my words and actions this morning.”
“That’s better.” Then she indicated a sheet-covered sofa, and when he sat, she settled next to him. “Is the viscount merely a problem or is he a catalyst?”
Oh, God. He forced a swallow into his suddenly dry throat. “Meaning?”
“You are driven by something I can’t see or understand.” Her eyes were more green than brown again. “Why do I think you only married me as part of a larger game you’re playing and trying to keep me ignorant?”
Damn, but she was far too sharp. It would prove dangerous to the mission, and he refused to fail at it again. But he owed her something. “Suffice it to say, Echerson is a part of my past that wasn’t given closure. Please trust that I will put a swift to end everything if I can.”
For long moments she remained silent. “You were in the war together.”
He nodded but didn’t comment.
“Did you fight together?”
Again, he kept his own counsel even as his thoughts turned torturous. With far too much strength, he shoved them aside and refused to allow them purchase in his mind.
“Why must you prove so aggravating, Michael?” A huff followed the inquiry. “You can’t keep everything inside, else this union, no matter the reason, will fail. We will grow to hate each other, perhaps for different reasons, and it will result in naught but disaster.”
Perhaps that was all he was capable of. “I have provided for you and your future if things go down that path.” Or any other, for he would either kill the viscount, or Echerson would do the same to him. One mission, two different results, for two different countries.
It was always that way.
“That’s not the same.” Reaching out, Evvie rested a hand on his. “I’d like to know the man I married, the man I’m allowing access to my body, the man I’m spending time with. If nothing else, for the companionship. We both don’t need to walk through life alone.”
The words cut him to the quick. Was that worth walking away for? He pushed that aside as well. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“Do not think to consign me to gentle sensibilities and needing a fainting couch.” Her eyes narrowed. “I’m far too old to dance about and try to appease you or tease you into a better mood.”
“Perhaps.” He sighed. “How old are you, by the by?”
“Four and thirty. You?”
“Nearly one and forty.”
“Ah.” For long moments, she studied him with her head slightly tilted. “Eventually, we’ll need to talk, seriously, with no walls, regardless if it’s messy and raw.”
“Perhaps I do owe you something, but not today.” She was a force, that was for certain, and he was equally certain he’d soon be caught in the midst of her storm. “As you’ve said, we have guests, and I’m suddenly famished.”
“Men!” After briefly pointing her gaze to the ceiling, she focused once more on him. “This conversation isn’t over.”
Again, he offered a tight grin. “No, I suppose it’s not.
” Would he confess all to her? Probably not, but oddly, knowing that she wanted to know left him at sixes and sevens.
No one had ever cared about him before. Not even his friends.
None of them had ever sought him out to check on his mental state.
The fact she wished to had him out to sea on foreign emotions.
“Would it appease you if I promise to set aside time for us to talk of things either past or present soon?”
She held his gaze for long moments before finally nodding. “Yes. I would like that.”
So would I. “Then I’ll make it happen.” Quickly, he stood up from the sofa and retrieved his cane. Offering her his good hand, he helped her into a standing position. “Let us go greet our guests. I’ll introduce you to some of my club mates.”
And he would try not to think of the future.