Page 73 of An Inconvenient Marriage
With a low moan, I closed my eyes and arched my back. And when Zach dragged his finger out and plunged it back in, I spread my legs even wider.
“So wet and welcoming,” he murmured. “Just waiting for me to make you feel good.”
“Yes.” At least that’s what I wanted to say, but it came all breathy and jumbled. And honestly, I didn’t even care. Not when Zach was being true to his word and making me feel good.
So damn good, my hips bucked off the stool to keep up with the pace he was setting. Which wasn’t fast by any means. It was slow and tortuously delicious. The kind of pleasure that made you lose all sense of time and space.
It was just me and Zach and whatever magic he was doing with his finger.
No way it could get any better than this.
But it could and it did. Without warning or missing a beat, he added a second finger. My entire world flipped on its axis, and I had to grab hold of the counter to keep myself from toppling over.
My hips were moving on their own now, seeking the release already building low in my belly.
“Hmm, I think I like you riding my hand like you can’t get enough.”
I couldn’t think straight, let alone form anything other than moans and whimpers, but that didn’t seem to be a problem because Zach just kept going. He worked me into a frenzy, pushed me right to the edge…
Then he took his fingers away.
Not only that, but he immediately moved back to his food as if nothing had happened. What the heck?
What. The. Actual. Heck?
Was he being serious right now?
“Zach!” I cried incredulously.
With the speed of a freaking tortoise, he turned to face me. Holding me captive with that intense stare, he stuck his index and middle finger into his mouth and sucked on them like they were the most delicious lollipop in the world.
When he was done, he slowly dragged them out and grinned. “You want to come,mi diosa? Be a good girl and finish your food first.”
With a wink—a freaking wink!—he picked up his spoon and snagged a piece of bread from the plate between us.
My brain was having a hell of a hard time figuring out what the hell had just happened. That could also have been because I was still throbbing and aching and way too turned on to even attempt to think straight.
When Zach realized this, he abandoned his food to pull mine closer. Taking a fresh piece of bread, he dipped it into my soup, then held it against my mouth. “Open.”
Was that my legs or my mouth this time? I didn’t know anymore, but luckily my body did. On what felt like autopilot, I parted my lips and let him feed me the dipped bread. By the time I took my last bite from his fingers, his grin was wide.
“Now finish the rest.”
Because my brain cells were finally back and my tummy had reminded me of its empty state, I picked up my spoon and tucked into the soup. Although simply calling it soup didn’t do this culinary masterpiece justice at all.
The moment I took my first bite, a flavor bomb exploded in my mouth. It’d been subtle with the bread, but alone, I could taste the different herbs and spices.
“This is so good,” I moaned around my third bite.
Zach was quiet for a moment, then said, “It’s my mother’s recipe.”
I swallowed whatever was in my mouth and grabbed a napkin. Once I was certain there were no soup spots on my chin, I faced him.
“Will you tell me about her?”
His mother’s death wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew she’d died when he was a teenager, but no one knew her name or what she did or even how she’d died. It was one big mystery. And not the kind I wanted to solve either.
I understood how those kinds of wounds never really truly healed. It was always there at the back of your mind, in the darkest, loneliest corners of your heart.
