Chapter 11
He dumped her on the bed and used his body to trap her there. She fought him; he had expected nothing less.
When she stopped bucking him and started using her hands, he simply captured them and manacled her wrists above her head.
If her eyes were a weapon, he figured he would be dead by now.
"Let me up, Craig. Or so help me God-" The rest was muffled by his mouth.
She tried to clamp her lips closed, but he used his teeth to bite her lower lip and had them parting. Using that, he sneaked his tongue in and just avoided getting it bitten in two by capturing her tongue between his teeth.
He used strategy and expertise. Sucking the tongue inside his mouth, he watched her eyes glaze over and felt her body going limp.
He continued to suck on it, slowly drawing it inside his mouth, taking his time, savoring, tasting, until he felt her trembling. Only then did he let up and allowed her to participate.
He deepened the kiss and released her hands, figuring that she was past the point where she wanted to maim him.
Her hands dropped lifelessly onto his shoulders, her body writhing beneath his.
She could say all she wanted that she didn't love him, make all the excuses in the world, but her body didn't lie. He knew she was honor bound to deny her feelings; she had a right to be bitter and angry about what had happened to her.
But what he wasn't going to do, what he refused to tolerate, was her brushing him off.
That's not going to happen. And if he had to use seduction to up the game, then by God, that's exactly what he was going to do.
All was fair in bloody love and war, he thought as he took the kiss to another level. He was going to have her crying out his name, his name only.
When he was through, she was going to sob like a baby. He was pulling out all the stops, going all the way.
He was going to play her like a virtuous. And he knew how.
Ending the kiss, he tackled her forehead and then her lobe, tugging it into his mouth and nibbling. Her hands were clenched on his shoulders and then his back.
Her breathing had accelerated; he could hear her panting through her lips.
He zeroed in on her wildly beating pulse and then simply ravaged the hollow of her throat. He spent time there, licking, using his teeth to scrape the skin, and then soothing with his tongue.
He could feel the rigid hardness of her nipples. His own blood was pounding inside his body, his loins impossibly rigid.
Ignoring his own enormous need, he trailed his lips down, kissing the tops of her breasts, before grazing her nipples. He played around there, gently teasing, teasing, teasing, until she was whimpering.
When he closed his mouth over the nipple, tugging it between his teeth, she bucked and grabbed at his hair, calling out his name.
He suckled slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. He wanted the taste of her branded on his tongue.
Parting the robe, he slid it off her shoulders, until she was naked, her skin rubbing against his shirt. He wanted them skin to skin.
But he did not want her having second thoughts or coming to her senses.
Lifting his head, his eyes on hers, he eased his body a little to fight with the shirt. Tossing it to the floor, he lowered himself and rubbed his body over hers.
The hairs on his chest grazed the sensitive nipples and sent fresh fire coursing through her blood. She was about to combust.
The sensation was exquisitely painful.
She gripped the bunched muscles of his arms as he slid down, lips trailing over her stomach. She was trembling, near to tears as sensation after sensation rocked her and held her in its control.
She couldn't breathe; it was becoming impossible to even think.
His tongue dipped into her navel and had her crying out in shock. Her fingers sought purchase on the quilt, her body vibrating.
When he ventured further down, the tears leaked from her eyes.
Craig inhaled her musky scent and thought he was just going insane. He used his tongue and teeth to drive her wild.
When he slipped his tongue into her, the release came viciously, tearing her to pieces. Her world not only tilted, but it also shattered.
She couldn't feel anything else. His name was on her lips, a prayer, a demand, a plea.
When she drifted down, he covered her body with his, slipping inside her with ease, going in deep. Lacing his fingers through hers, he held her gaze, his face darkly intense, his eyes fierce.
"I love you," he told her roughly, his lips brushing hers. "I love you."
He kissed the sides of her lips.
When he started moving, she had no choice. With her eyes locked on his, she gave herself up to the pleasure that only he could give her.
Within minutes, she was going up again, her world turning inside out. Her hands clutched his shoulders, her body arching, surrendering, seeking, and reaching for what only he could give her.
They crested together, bodies clinging, hearts pounding. He captured her moans as he emptied himself inside her.
Even after, he continued to kiss her, his body shuddering, his heart and mind shattered.
It took a minute before he could move. Belatedly realizing that he was probably crushing her, he eased away slowly.
When she stirred and would have moved away, he stopped her, arms wrapping around her.
"No," he whispered, his hold tightening. She didn't say anything.
Couldn't. Words failed her and her throat was raw.
She curled against him, her heart beating in irregular beats. Her skin was still tingling.
He had destroyed her completely. Her mind was racing and going nowhere.
She could still feel him deep inside her.
He stroked her back, his long fingers gliding soothingly over her skin. He felt the after tremors and the wetness of her tears on his flesh.
It moved him beyond comprehension. He didn't say anything; he knew she was not ready for words, and besides, he had already said them.
Regina curled her fingers on his chest and closed her eyes, her heart shattering even more when he kissed her forehead softly, every now and again. He moved her; he was the first person who ever had.
He undid her; there was no mistaking that. He said he loved her and had insisted that she felt the same.
Did she? What was this tingle in her heart?
It was something she refused to acknowledge, not now anyway.
It was true that she felt something for him, something big; she could acknowledge that, but she was scared to go further. She needed time.
She was broken, had been broken for too many years to count.
He felt her mind going into a million directions but left her to her thoughts as he continued to soothe her. He felt the wetness of her tears on his chest and was also attuned to when her breathing slowed, indicating that she had fallen asleep.
He tucked her in even more; his body wrapped around hers and continued his soothing touch, but he was wide awake.
He could wait, he decided. Well, he had to.
He didn't have a choice. He loved her with an intensity that was frightening.
He would wait until she was ready.
Now, she was vulnerable and still hurting. He wanted to find the man who had put her through all of it and beat the crap out of him.
He wanted to protect her from everything and everyone.
He also knew she would not welcome his protection. She was fiercely independent and very strong.
He supposed she'd had to be, considering. But there was also a vulnerability about her that tugged at his heart.
She didn't show it, but her emotions had been stripped, allowing him to see it. Seeing it tore at him.
She was his woman, his heart, his life, and he wasn't going to stop until she gave him everything. He wanted it all.
He would build a life with her. Have children together.
His heart spiked a little as he wondered if the seed was already planted.
He hadn't used anything and he was almost certain she wasn't on anything. But did he want a child in this confusing mix?
She wasn't ready yet and he wanted time with her. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and succumbed to sleep, his arms still wrapped around her.
*****
The rest of the week flew by quickly. After that night, the earth-shattering time they shared, he noticed a change in her.
She didn't talk about her past or bring it up and he wisely stayed clear. They went fishing again the very next morning.
She was the one who rose early, made a gallon of coffee, omelet, and toast to face the rain-drenched morning.
The haul was smaller than the first, but she caught the most, which delighted her. He was happy to see the smile on her face, the glow in her eyes, and would have done anything to make it happen.
They took long walks through the wooded area, stopping to look at an elk drinking from the stream.
He could see that she was enchanted with the place and that made him happy. He promised himself that they would return as soon as they had some free time.
He would see to it. This would be a place where they could get away from the pressing demands of their lives.
They talked about inconsequential details. He noticed that she stayed away from anything too personal.
It disappointed him, of course, but he supposed that was part of the deal of loving her.
She didn't object to him holding her hand while they took their walks. They ate out on the deck, and two days before they were due to leave, he convinced her to take a ride on the boat and a swim in the river.
In between all of it, he made love to her constantly. It was only there that he ruled.
She was unable to hide behind her coolness when he was inside her. When that happened, she was laid bare, naked inside and out before his eyes.
She gave him what he needed. So, he made love to her often, on the deck in the cool of the night, after a picnic lunch they had under the overhanging leaves of the huge oak tree.
He spread a blanket in the thick lushness of the grass and stripped off her clothes, fingers and mouth playing over her body until her cries echoed in the stillness. He would examine every inch of her delectable body until he had the feeling that he knew every inch of it.