Page 121 of The Rejected Wife

He stills.

"I love you, Tyler. So very much."

His eyes gleam. Something like relief flashes in his eyes and is replaced with that look which is a combination of love and devotion and lust, all rolled into one. To be desired for how I am. For more than my body. For who I am. For my mind. My emotions. My soul. It’s an all-encompassing, unselfish love which feels huge and monumental and never-ending. And when I bite down on my lower lip to stop my emotions spilling over, his gaze is drawn there. Just like that, the air between us heats. The desire never far from the surface bubbles over.

Oh God. I’ll never take this…carnal need I have for him, this draw toward him, this animal attraction which binds us together, for granted. With a low noise he pulls me into his lap, then kisses me deeply. Our lips fuse together. Our teeth clash. His tongue tangles with mine. I’m burning up, my skin on fire. My core is so wet, surely, I’ve stained my clothes. I wind my arms about his shoulders and hold on as he devours me. The kiss is everything I’ve dreamed of. It’s as if confessing my love for him has added another dimension. The way he holds me is more possessive. More tender. The way he kisses me is both more demanding and gentler. The way my body molds itself to the planes of his feels charged with this growing craving to have him inside of me.

"I love you so fucking much," he growls into my mouth. Then kisses me all over again. My breath grows choppy. My head spins. The sensations crowding my body and my soul are overpowering. I?—

Someone clears their throat.

I flush to the roots of my hair. I try to pull away, but Tyler doesn’t let me. He continues to kiss me. But I’m very aware that Brody or Connor must have walked into the study. Summer left earlier, and Tyler’s brothers took charge of putting Serene to sleep.

I almost forgot they were here.

"Uh—Serene wanted to say goodnight to both of you before she falls asleep," Connor murmurs from somewhere in the direction of the entrance to the room.

This time, when I pull away, Tyler lets me. He groans and pushes his forehead against mine, seemingly for support. His massive chest rises and falls. The musky scent of his skin is laced with desire. I take another deep breath, storing it to tide me over, then push off of him and to my feet.

"I… Uh… I’m going to Serene."

Tyler slumps back against the couch. "You go ahead. I’ll be there as soon as I, uh…put myself to rights."

I take in the tent at his crotch and stifle a chuckle. Then walk past Brody, who’s walking back toward the study, presumably after having seen Lauren to the door. "Kiss Serene goodnight from me," he says.

I nod, then take the steps up to Serene’s bedroom, my cheeks still on fire. By the time I walk into Serene’s room, I’ve managed to get myself together. Serene’s under the covers, clutching her favorite soft toy, a bedraggled dinosaur. When I sit next to her, she opens her eyes. "Mommy." She smiles.

"I’m here; go to sleep, baby." I kiss her forehead.

She sighs, then rolls over onto her other side, still clutching the doll. I push her hair back from her face. This burst of activity is typical for her. I’ve learned it signals that she’s comfortable and ready to go to sleep. Still clutching her toy in one hand, with the other, she grips my hand and tucks it under her chin.

My heart swells. Warmth coils in my chest. That absolute trust she places in me is humbling. It makes me want to take care of her. Makes me want to do everything in my power to protect her. Makes me wonder… How could Lauren have given her up? Makes me realize, she must have been very scared by the situation she found herself in. Enough to break so many rules to track down Tyler, then go so far as to walk away from her own daughter. The thought of it is incomprehensible to me.

It makes me so grateful that I found her and Tyler all over again. I bend and kiss Serene’s forehead, staying with her for a few more minutes as her breathing deepens.

Then, I rise to my feet, turn, and still. He’s propped one arm against the doorframe, with his broad shoulders taking up most of the space.

He looks from me to his daughter’s face, then back at me. There’s so much warmth and tenderness in his eyes, it flips my stomach. That feeling of knowing my husband loves me is the most incredible, most comforting feeling in the entire world.

"She fell asleep before you could wish her goodnight," I whisper unnecessarily.

His lips quirk. "I can see that." With his other hand thrust into his pocket, he straightens. His hair is tousled, softening the strong planes of his face. His shirt has a few buttons open, enough for me to see the demarcation of his pecs. The planes of his chest stretch the shirt and the rest of the buttons. Then, there’s the way he’s folded up the sleeves of his shirt. It exposes his hair-roughened, veiny forearms, and oh God, the sight is like sex-come-to-life. He’s sex-come-to-life. Adonis and Eros combined. An erotic dream. He’s hot and dominant and has such presence, he takes my breath away.

Heat flushes my skin. Sparks simmer in my bloodstream. I take a step in his direction, and they turn into little tendrils of fire. He watches me closely, not moving as I float toward him. The very air between us turns into a lasso of need. It settles around my shoulders and tightens with every inch I close between us.

My pussy clenches. My stomach stutters. My nipples are so hard, I’m sure he can see them through my blouse.

I stop in front of him, and he looks down at me from his great height. He must have stopped to wash the colors off of his face, for some of the strands of hair lining his forehead are wet. And his face is free of colors. Mostly.

"You missed this." I reach up and rub off a dab of color at his temple. The skin of his face is cool—as a result of washing up, no doubt—but the rest of his body feels like a furnace. A cloud of heat spools off of him and crashes into my chest. I gasp. My head spins. His nearness, his scent, the sheer force of him presses in from all sides.

Combined with that tender look in his heterochromatic eyes, it’s more potent than an aphrodisiac. I begin to withdraw my arm, but he catches my wrist, presses it close to his cheek, then he turns his face into the palm of my hand and kisses it.

I shiver. The touch of his lips on me alerts every single nerve ending in my body. And when he drags his five o’clock-shadowed chin against the soft skin in the center of my palm, every pore in my body seems to open with need. I make a soft sound at the back of my throat, and he snaps his gaze on me.

"You’re beautiful," he says in a low, hard voice that shivers over my skin, draws more moisture from my core, and makes my toes curl.

"So are you," I whisper.

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