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A Husband's Regret (The Unwanted Series)(55)

By:Natasha Anders


She knew that. His ebullience over the last couple of months had been  hard to miss. He was still terrified of losing his temper around her and  Kayla, but Bronwyn wasn't above pushing his buttons in order provoke a  response from him. She trusted him not to hurt them, but she wanted him  to trust himself too. Their therapist, in a one-on-one session with  Bronwyn, had suggested that course of action, and they were making  progress. He had lost his temper with her just two weeks before, after  Bronwyn had ditched Paul while she was out shopping.

Recognizing how furious he was after Paul had informed him of her  transgression, she had deliberately gotten belligerent in an effort to  get him to lose his icy control and had then watched in unflinching awe  as her ex-husband completely lost his legendary composure for the first  time in her memory. He had ranted, raved, paced, growled, and even  snapped a pencil, but he hadn't even gotten close to harming a hair on  her head. After he had calmed down, she had smugly kissed him and  murmured, "You don't scare me, big man. But I promise to be more careful  in the future." He had looked a little dazed after that and slightly  mollified by her words. But the look of befuddled self-discovery in his  eyes had been one of the sweetest things she had ever seen. After that  he had stopped carrying himself like a man tiptoeing on eggshells around  Bronwyn and Kayla.

Bronwyn had learned a lot more about him over the last two months than  she had dreamed possible. At first it had been a little disheartening to  discover just how much he had kept hidden from her in the past, but at  the same time she had recognized that he was fundamentally the same man  that she had fallen in love with all those years ago.

"Sometimes," he was saying, still in that low, rough voice that shook  with the force of his emotions, "I wonder how the hell I got so lucky. I  don't deserve you, no matter what you say, and I am awed, humbled, and  so damned grateful that you're in my life."

He cleared his throat and carefully placed his glass back on the table  before, quite unexpectedly, dropping out of his chair and on to one knee  in front of her. Confused by the clumsy movement from her usually  graceful ex-husband, Bronwyn wasn't sure what was happening at first  until he started patting at the breast pocket of his shirt.  Flabbergasted, she watched as his eyes flared in panic and his hands  dropped down to his jeans pockets and frantically started digging around  in them. She started to get an inkling of what his intentions were and  tried to hide her grin at this less-than-suave proposal.





  

"Damn it, I wanted it to be perfect," he was muttering to himself, but  she didn't think that he was aware of the fact that he was speaking out  loud. He fumbled with something small and gleaming that he pulled out of  the same breast pocket he had abandoned just moments ago. When he  raised his vulnerable gaze to hers once more, there was sweat beading  his forehead, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps.

"I played this out in my head so many times," he confessed hoarsely. "I  envisioned hot-air balloons, brass bands, and huge, extravagant  spectacles. But in the end, perfection for me was having you to myself  in a private place where I could beg you to end my miserable, lonely  existence without you. You give my life purpose and meaning. Every beat  of my heart belongs to you. I love you, Bronwyn. Please marry me." He  opened the palm of his hand and Bronwyn gasped when she saw the ring  lying there.

"Where did you find this?" she whispered, her eyes going misty. It was  her ring, the one he had given her after his first proposal . . . the  one she had so reluctantly sold years ago. "How did you track it down? I  never even told you the name of the shop I used."

"I e-mailed pictures of the rings to just about every pawn shop  proprietor on the Garden Route. It took a while but eventually one  e-mailed me back with the information I needed. He had sold it to an  elderly lady who said that it reminded her of her own wedding set. She's  a regular customer of his and luckily had enough of a romantic heart to  sell the set back to me when she heard why I needed it."

"The set? You have the wedding ring too?" she asked in disbelief, and he nodded somberly.

"Yes . . . I wasn't sure you'd want the rings back, but I took a chance  that you'd recognize it as a symbol of my enduring love for you. I may  not have known it but I loved you the first time I proposed and never  stopped loving you. Not once. If you want something else, I could . . ."

"Don't you dare," she choked out the words. "Don't even think about it."

"So you'll marry me?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course I'll marry you," she said with a watery smile, cupping his  jaw before leaning down to plant a kiss on his beautiful mouth. "I love  you too. So much!"

He started grinning like an idiot before clumsily placing the ring on  her finger. They both stared down at the gleaming diamond and emerald  cluster before Bryce lifted her hand to his mouth and dropped a  lingering kiss on the ring.

"Don't take it off again," he whispered.

"Never," she promised fervently. "Never." She kissed him again, winding  her arms around his strong neck and toying with the hair at the nape of  his neck. She felt him tense as he pushed his way to his feet, taking  her with him. She refused to relinquish her hold on him, and he wrapped  his arms around her slender waist, dragging her even closer. The kiss  got hot so quickly they were gasping for breath but unable to surrender  each other's mouths.

"God, I could eat you alive," he rasped, lifting his lips from hers and  sweeping them down over the graceful column of her throat, over her  delicate chin, until they once again landed, with searing intensity, on  her open and gasping mouth. His hands moved to frame her small face, and  his palms drifted down her cheeks until his thumbs brushed the  underside of her jaw, where they exerted enough pressure to tilt her  head back even farther in order to accommodate him more fully. His  tongue swept into her mouth, and they both shuddered at the invasion.  Her delicate hands molded over the strong, sculpted contours of his  torso and up over his pectorals until her fingers unintentionally  brushed over the small, flat male nipples, which were hard as pebbles  beneath the thin material of his shirt. He hissed at the sensation, and  she teasingly moved her hands away from the highly sensitive area.

"Touch me like that again." He lifted his lips only long enough to issue  the rough command, and Bronwyn moved her fluttering fingers back up and  over his chest, kneading and exploring hungrily along the way, until  she reached her goal. She copied a move from his playbook and gently  flicked the tiny nubs with her thumbs until he groaned against her lips.  She was fully committed to the kiss, enjoying the musky taste of his  mouth and the unbearably erotic sensation of the rasp of his tongue over  hers. Her skin burned at every point of contact, but she still couldn't  get close enough to him. It had just been so long since they had been  together like this.

He cupped her firm behind through the denim of her jeans and hefted her  up. She happily took the hint and wrapped her long legs around his  waist. She kept her mouth glued to his, even while he stumbled his way  into the living room and nearly dropped her in the process. He got only  far enough inside to turn and brace her against a wall.





  

"Sweetheart, I'm so hard for you," he whispered. The words were  completely redundant since she couldn't miss the solid ridge of his  masculinity pushing up against her through the thick denim of their  jeans. He shifted her until her own hot core was rubbing up against that  delicious length of flesh that she could feel throbbing despite the  layers of clothing between them. She wriggled and ignored his groan as  she tried to lower her legs, wanting to stand. Thankfully he seemed to  know exactly what she wanted, and he stepped back to allow her down.  Free to do what she was aching to do, Bronwyn clumsily unbuttoned the  fly of his jeans. No easy task when he was pushing up against the  unyielding material and leaving her with little room to maneuver. She  succeeded at her task and his rigid penis spilled into her waiting  hands. She gripped him tightly and stroked him in a way designed to  drive him a little crazy. He groaned, fighting to maintain his composure  and kissed her gently, his velvet-soft lips firm while his tongue  forged its way into her mouth. Bronwyn was helpless to do anything but  open for him, and she gasped when his hot tongue immediately sought and  coaxed a response from hers. Her grip tightened around him and the sound  that emerged from his throat was so anguished that for a second she  thought she might have hurt him. He lifted his head and stared down at  her intensely.

"I love what you're doing, Bron, but I don't think I'll last much longer  if you continue doing it," he warned. Bronwyn sighed and reluctantly  released her prize after one last, lingering stroke that very nearly  undid him if his reaction was anything to go by. It took a few moments  of gasping and muttered curses before he opened his eyes again to scowl  down at her feverishly.