Page 64 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
He shoved up from the couch, reaching for the jacket he’d tossed aside.
His wallet hit the table with a thud, the foil torn open between his teeth.
The sight sent another pulse of heat through me, lust battling reason. He rolled the condom on, then came back to me in a rush.
His weight pressed me into the cushions, his mouth crushing mine as he drove back inside in one hard thrust.
The stretch tore a moan from me, my legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him deeper.
“God, Tessa.” His forehead dropped to my shoulder. “I’ve been starved for this.”
Each surge of his body slammed me higher, the pressure unbearable until it broke loose again.
I cried out, shuddering around him, nails clawing his back as my climax ripped through me.
My body clamped around him, pulsing hard as I clawed at his back, dragging him closer, desperate for more even as I splintered apart.
My cry rang against his shoulder, muffled by his skin, my nails leaving half-moons in his flesh as the orgasm rolled through me.
Lucian groaned a guttural sound, as his rhythm faltered, and he held me down, hips grinding into mine, fighting for control as I clenched around him.
His breath came rough in my ear, each thrust shorter, harder, until he shuddered.
“Christ, Tessa,” he rasped, voice breaking on my name. His body locked tight, muscles rigid, and then he spilled inside the condom with a groan that vibrated through my chest. He thrust once, twice more, burying himself deep as the release tore out of him. His face pressed to my throat, jaw clenched.
For a long moment neither of us moved, tangled and trembling, sweat dampening the air between us.
His lips brushed my jaw, then lingered against my temple, his chest rising and falling hard against mine.
His breath evened slowly, each exhale hot against my skin. I kept my eyes shut, afraid of what I’d see if I met his, afraid of what it meant that I hadn’t pushed him away.
When he finally shifted, he eased out of me with a low groan and pulled the condom free, tying it off before setting it on the table.
He sank back onto the couch beside me, one arm braced along the cushions, the other dragging over his face as though he could wipe away what had just happened.
I sat up enough to pull the blanket from the back of the couch across my chest. He seemed more tense now than he was before he kissed me, which didn't seem possible.
I scooted a few inches away where I could really take him in, and I felt like he was going to explode. I almost asked if he was okay, if we were okay, but there was no "we" anymore. I didn’t even know if there was an arrangement anymore.
"I need to tell you something," he grunted, and when he looked at me, he seemed upset, not enthralled in post-orgasmicbliss like he should’ve been. "This IVF plan of yours—it's been driving me insane."
I lifted my head to look at him. "What? Why? You seemed supportive before." I sat straighter, pulling the blanket over my chest higher. Suddenly, the intimacy of the moment had vanished and I felt on edge.
"Because I was trying to be noble. Trying to want what you wanted even when it felt like a knife in my chest." His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing across my cheek. "But I can't pretend anymore. The thought of you carrying another man's child, even a donor's, makes me physically ill."
The possessiveness in his voice angered me a little, but it also awakened something deep and primitive in my own chest. "Lucian?—"
"How can you plan to get pregnant with donor sperm when you're here with me, when we're like this together?" His eyes searched my face desperately. "You lie under me moaning my name. Why do you want someone else to father your child?"
I had no words for him. His question stopped me in my tracks like a deer in headlights because he was right.
When we were together, when he was inside me and I was lost in the connection between us, the idea of clinical insemination felt cold and mechanical. I wanted his hands on my body, his voice in my ear.
And though the thought hadn't occurred to me before, suddenly, it sparked a hunger in my chest.
I did want his baby inside me, and maybe that was why his cold dismissal a month ago was even more painful.
"If you're going to get pregnant," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "you'll do it the right way. With me."
