Page 38 of Slightly Married
“I have, and will do it again if you keep testing me.” I leaned closer, dropping my voice to a dangerous register. “Are you fucking Yiorgos?”
“If I am,” she answered breathlessly, chin tilted in defiance, “it’s none of your goddamn business.”
“You are my wife. Not his.”
She let out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the man with a fiancée. Let me make something clear to you. I can fuck and suck whomever I please.”
The thought of her with another man tore through my control. I seized her wrist, pulling her closer until our breaths mingled. “Not while you bear my name,” I growled, not recognizing my own voice.
Kayla leaned closer, challenging me with her proximity. “It’s temporary. Just like this marriage.”
I dragged her onto my lap. “There’s nothing temporary about what I feel when I touch you.”
The confession surprised me as much as it seemed to surprise her. Her eyes widened, and before I could say any more, she captured my lips within hers. I tasted the sweetness of the berry lip balm she favored.
The kiss was hot and heavy, a battle for dominance that neither of us was willing to lose. Her hands gripped my shirt;whether to push me away or pull me closer, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t care.
My hands glided over her curves, drawing a gasp from her lips as I cupped her breast through the delicate fabric of her dress. I growled in frustration, needing more, needing her.
The kiss turned feral—too much want, not enough control. Her moan was a promise. Her hands didn’t push me away. They pulled.
And that was my undoing.
With a sudden, violent motion, I tore her dress, the sound of ripping fabric filling the car.
13
Icouldn’t believe he’d torn my dress right down the middle. The garment was new, cost a small fortune, and now hung in tatters around my waist.
“Are you kidding me?” I started to protest, but the words died in my throat as his mouth captured my nipple.
My body betrayed me instantly, back arching as a moan escaped my lips. His tongue circled and flicked while his thumb worked my other nipple into a tight peak. Without conscious thought, my fingers threaded through his thick hair, holding him closer instead of pushing him away like any rational woman would.
I caught a glimpse of my wedding ring, stark against the glossy sheen of his hair. We were coming together as husband and wife after over two months of chaste avoidance. After I promised myself to keep my distance...
What was happening to me? I should be furious about the dress, about being manhandled out of the garden, about thisentire caveman display. Instead, heat pooled between my thighs, and my skin felt hypersensitive to every touch.
“Konstantin,” I breathed, my voice unrecognizable even to my own ears. When he looked up at me, my nipple still between his lips, the raw hunger in his eyes sent a shiver through my entire body.
He released me with a wet pop that should have been ridiculous but somehow wasn’t, then trailed hot kisses up my chest, my neck, my jaw. His mouth reclaimed mine with a possessiveness that made my toes curl.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing myself against him, meeting his passion with my own. Whatever battle of wills we’d been fighting had transformed into something else entirely.
The car rolled to a stop, but I barely noticed. My world had narrowed to this man, these sensations, this moment.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice warned that I was crossing every line I’d drawn for myself. I ignored it.
He lifted me effortlessly, moving me across the seat and laying me back against the cool leather. His weight settled over me, deliciously heavy as his tongue explored my mouth with renewed intensity. I tugged at his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine, my legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer.
His lips traveled down my jaw, my neck, the sensitive hollow of my collarbone. Each kiss left a trail of fire in its wake. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, mapping every curve of my body with possessiveness.
When his mouth moved between my breasts and continued downward, my breath caught. His tongue circled my navel as his hands spread my thighs wider. I gasped, gripping his hair as he continued his descent.
At the edge of my thong, he paused, breath hot against my skin. He inhaled deeply before pressing his lips against the thinfabric covering my mound. The light pressure sent electricity shooting through me, and I couldn’t stop the tremor racing down my back.
His fingers hooked into the waistband, drawing the material down my legs. I couldn’t look away from his eyes, couldn’t control my rapid breathing, couldn’t quiet the thundering of my heart.
When he discarded the scrap of fabric and gripped my thighs, spreading them wider, I should have felt vulnerable. Instead, I felt powerful.
