Page 21 of Her Fantasy Husband

“Let me explain what’s at stake,” she said. “Then you can decide.”

His shoulders stiffened. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to know what’s at stake. It’s not my business, and I don’t want it to be.”

A hurt look flashed across her face, followed by disappointment, but both were gone in a second. She was good at hiding her feelings. No doubt she’d had to be, with that family of hers. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you with my problems. But you agreed to this.”

“IsaidI’d think about it.” The words came out harsher than he wanted, but she was messing with his head. He’d had the craziest urge to hold her close until the hurt went away. To kiss her until she forgot whatever her problems were. But that wasn’t who he was.

She bit her lip and took a step back from him. Her ankle gave in those ridiculous shoes, and she fell backward. He reached for her instinctively, and then his arms were around her. As he hauled her closer, her softness pressed into him, and he accepted defeat.

Not of the war, but maybe of this one small skirmish.

Because he had to kiss her again.

That was all—just to taste her, feel her. The need was overwhelming, clawing at him. Afterward, they’d go back, and tomorrow he would tell her he’d set the paperwork in motion for the annulment. Because she was trouble.

All that flashed through his mind in the seconds it took for her to wrap her hands around his shoulders and raise her head. For a moment, he stared down into her huge eyes as they blinked up at him, filled with longing. For him.

Never underestimate how much of a turn-on it is to be wanted.

And he gave in, lowered his head, and took her lips with his.

There was nothing tentative about her kiss. Her lips parted for him, and he pushed his tongue inside as his hands slid down her back and gripped her ass, hauling her even closer and lifting her so her feet left the ground. He backed her up until she hit the trunk of the oak tree, then he kissed her some more.

Hot, wet kisses, with an edge of desperation, their tongues stroking, caressing. His dick was rock hard now, and his balls ached viciously. How had it gotten so hot, so fast? She wasn’t his type, but with her breasts squashed against his chest and her stomach pressed against his cock, his body didn’t agree.

A little longer. Then he’d walk away.

His hands slid down her thighs and under the skirt, then up again, pausing as his palms hit bare flesh at the top of her stockings, and his breath hitched in his throat. He went still for a moment.

I am so fucked.

As he stopped kissing her, her small teeth bit into his lower lip in protest. He tried to push himself away. Really he did, but instead, his hands continued their course, back to her ass, cupping her through the silky material of her panties. Then he lifted her up.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered against her lips, waiting for her to come to her senses and push him away. Instead her legs clasped his hips, pressing her sex into him, rubbing up against him, and it felt so fucking good. He dug his fingers into the soft flesh of her ass, urging her closer until he thought he might come right there, in his pants, and embarrass himself. Still, he couldn’t stop. She felt too damn good. Her hands were in his hair, holding his mouth to hers, but he needed more.

Just a little more.

Then he’d call a halt.

There was too much material between them. He needed her hot little pussy bare, needed to know if she was as turned on as he was.

He braced his legs, putting most of the weight on his good one, then pulled slightly away, breaking the kiss, and a mewl of protest escaped her. Turning her, he lowered her to the grass, coming down on one knee between her sprawled legs. The dress was still pushed up, the pale skin of her thighs gleamed in the dim light, and he could see the black silk of her panties. His mouth went dry and his cock pulsed, almost painful now.

Her eyes were half-closed, her lips slightly parted, her breasts rising and falling with her shallow breaths.

Last chance to back out, buddy.

He ignored the little voice and studied her for a moment. The dress tied at the waist, and he tugged on the knot at her side, every second waiting for her to object. She stared up at him, blinking, but remained silent, and he reached down slowly and parted the material. Beneath it she wore a black silk and lace bra and matching panties. Her breasts were full and her waist narrow above the curve of her hips, her skin flawless and creamy. He trailed a hand down over the swell of one breast, her breath catching as he scraped over the prominent nipple.

He rubbed it and her hips pushed upward. Then he lowered himself over her, bit down on the taut peak through the lace of her bra, and sucked hard.

She let out a gasp and he glanced up.

Her eyes were wide, startled. But he guessed she wasn’t going to do the sensible thing. Still, something made him give her one last chance. Becausehe’dpassed sensible way back. Probably the moment their lips touched.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and held his breath because if she said no, he didn’t think he’d survive the disappointment.

He’d yearned for this feeling since he’d made that vow to get laid. Now it was here, the heat boiling inside him with her every touch. Hell, every time she looked at him.

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