Chapter 2
Nari.
My body warmed at an alarming rate. I felt him in my dreams, smelled his scent, and absorbed his energy. My God, I’m so weak for this man. Even as angry as I was and as hurt as he rendered me emotionally, my body still craved him, even needed him.
My fists gripped the sheets as my thighs spread wider.
When my groin began to roll over and over again, I lost the battle and took flight.
My hips left the mattress, thrusting forward, and were met by the vicious assault of his tongue.
That’s when it registered. I wasn’t dreaming.
Kincaid was here, in bed with me, his head between my thighs, his lips and tongue rendering me useless.
Through heavy lids, I peered at my husband’s handsome face. His eyes were fastened to mine with a determination that I could feel just as strongly as the wave of pleasure still moving through me. It bubbled in my core, then shot like lightning bolts, reaching every inch of my being.
I had no choice but to brace and allow it to happen. He was in control . . . always in control. That caused a sob to escape. The first one was soft, followed by another, which caused my chest to cave and my spine to tremble.
He was on me quickly, pushing between my thighs, using his body to spread them wider. Pillow-soft lips collided with mine, but the kiss was sensual and tender.
“Don’t cry, baby. If you want the truth, all you have to do is shut off your mind and allow your body to pull it from me.
” Kincaid thrust forward, landing deep, long, and thick, forcing me to bear down from the intrusion.
My body jolted from the force used to penetrate me, but when he pulled back and returned, it was gentle and slow.
He was still deep, but his movements were calculated and purposely slow.
“Haven of truth, remember?” His eyes were on mine, peering with a pleading that caused tears to creep into the corners of my own, threatening to escape.
When I closed them, he pulled back and pressed forward, penetrating me deeper.
“Look at me.”
I turned my head and refused, which granted me a hand on my chin, forcing me back.
“Nari, look at me, baby.” Soft kisses peppered my cheeks and then my lips.
I peeled my eyes open slowly. “Haven of truth. Anytime I’m here with you, in you like this, I couldn’t lie even if I wanted to.
I didn’t cheat. I wasn’t with her. Only you. Only us.”
I stared, not saying anything, and he grew agitated, thrusting into me with a little more aggression. “You believe me?”
I did. I couldn’t explain it, but with him here in me, connected the way we were, I could feel his truth. He wasn’t lying.
My eyes closed, and I nodded, but he growled, hitting me deep again.
“Then say it. Tell me you believe me.”
“I believe you.”
Kincaid got what he needed because his lips met mine again. This time, they attacked me in a needy manner. He had my mind, body, and soul. There was no defense against how he made me feel, which terrified me.
I loved the way he left me completely useless, powerless.
I was sure I couldn’t even deliver my name if asked.
Everything about me disappeared and became Kincaid when he was in me this painfully deep, finding my spot repeatedly before he left that one and discovered another.
This had to be the epitome of delirium. The lines were blurred because I couldn’t decide what was real from fake, pleasure from pain.
It all blended to perfection while he stroked me with purpose, marking me in a way that would erase any doubts that might still linger behind.
He was communicating. I. Did. Not. Fuck. Her.
His gaze weighed heavily on my face, and his eyes fastened to mine while he eased into a steady rhythm that was euphoric. The muscles in his arms and shoulders strained with the controlled movements that he delivered.
“Uxor Mea. mea agendi ratione.” (My wife. My inspiration.)
A smile ghosted his lips before they collided with mine.
Kincaid pulled out and returned harder, repeating the motion.
His body was demanding my attention, and without hesitation, I gave in, hanging on to every ounce of pleasure and pain he provided.
He was embedded in me, but not just physically.
The man was in my soul, and the reality of him had me terrified again.
He could destroy me. This man could permanently damage my entire existence.
I wasn’t allowed to linger with the thought too long because a few more seconds passed before I shattered into a million tiny little pieces that managed to bind again, making me whole, when he spilled himself into me, burying his face into my neck.
His heavy body weighed down against mine, blanketing me in his heat, in his promise, in his love.
When the high settled, my body began to tremble again. I opened my mouth, but the words seemed stuck. Lost. What was I trying to say? What did I need to say?
“I . . .”
His lips gently rested against my forehead and his tone was low and soothing.
“Tomorrow. We’ll talk tomorrow. Tonight, we sleep.
” Kincaid shifted to his side, bringing me with him, pulling me closer as if there were any space between us that he could demolish.
I closed my eyes, inhaled his presence, and drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, my body came alive when my husband found his way between my thighs again. I was still tender from hours before, but I welcomed the connection. His touch, his feel, his scent felt like home.
I moaned deep within, and it remained lodged in my throat because I was still in a haze and groggy from sleep. When my eyes peeled open, his were waiting, telling of his mood. Dark and possibly angry. I frowned, trying to make sense of what the issue was.
“You think about other men being where I am, Nari?” His voice was eerily calm but icy. My eyes went wild before I rushed my answer.
“No.”
Kincaid’s head lowered, and I felt a pinch on my nipple. His teeth grazed it once more before biting down again.
“You sure because that’s what you insinuated.”
“I did not . . .”
That’s when it registered. Our argument yesterday before he left. It must have been playing on his mind, spiraling through his thoughts in the worst ways. My husband was insanely jealous and equally possessive.
“Maybe I do . . .” He repeated my words, and his pace increased to a faster rhythm with more intensity.
In a movement so unexpected and quick that I didn’t have a chance to react, he pulled out of me violently and flipped me over.
I landed on my stomach, and he entered me from behind, just as violently as he had withdrawn.
Kincaid bound my hands over my head one by one.
His long fingers connected them both into one of his large hands with so much strength I was sure they would bruise.
“I asked you if you wanted to sleep with other men. It was a yes-or-no question, sweetheart. Maybe is a dangerous response to provide when it comes to you and other men.”
His movements were calculated. Hard and deep.
I struggled to keep up, to breathe, to deny the pain he caused, but enjoyed the feel of him reaching my depths.
Kincaid was making a point. He was issuing a warning and reminder about who I belonged to.
No other man was even allowed space in my head and most definitely not allowed access to my body.
A body he commanded and controlled, which he reinforced each time he sank into me.
“I was angry.”
He snorted and bit my shoulder. “Well, now, so am I.”
I felt him, every inch full and hard inside me. His anger made me delirious because it felt good being delivered through deep, purposeful strokes. He drove into me like a madman but with a type of control that he executed with precision.
God, I’m addicted to this man.
His body was heavy against the back of mine, and I surmised it was because he was using his weight to thrust as deep as he possibly could.
“Loving you makes me murder with no remorse, no conscience, no discretion. Loving you makes me lose all sensibility. Loving you makes me hurt in ways I can’t even imagine because I haven’t experienced the pain yet, but I know it’s coming.
All of these things will be your burden to bear if the word maybe ever lives on the tip of your tongue again when I ask you about another man. Understood?”
“Yes.” I could barely release that one word because I felt the danger in what he just proposed. He would never lift a finger to hurt me, but anyone who crafted a thought to have any part of me had better be damned.
He took me so fast and hard I was barely able to hold on.
The best part was that I loved the feel of his possessiveness wrapping around me, thrusting in me.
He was so deep it hurt but in the best way.
When I plummeted over the edge, he was right there with me, that last thrust so forceful and intense I felt his muscles tense against me while he grunted through his release.
Heavy breathing was the only sound that danced around us until he calmed enough to regain focus.
The insanity subsided, and soft, gentle kisses grazed my skin.
“We don’t fight dirty. That’s not who we are.
You don’t have to create images in my head to see me, Nari.
I do enough of that on my own each time I’m reminded that I don’t deserve you, and there’s a possibility that I could lose you because I don’t. ”
He was raw, vulnerable, and confiding in me one of his fears . . .
Losing me.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized how deep we both had fallen. We were lost to each other in such a dangerous way that our thoughts cut deeper than our realities. The same way I tortured myself imagining him with another woman, he’d done the same imagining me with another man.
“Come, let’s shower. We need to talk.”