She heard them pad outside, then waited in anticipation, cold without the sheet and his body.
He came back to the bed and spooned her again, tighter this time. He devoured her shoulder with his hungry mouth, again cupped her buttocks in his hand. “I can hear you breathe, Bethany. You’re not asleep, you’re nowhere even near asleep.”
She fought to control her breathing but felt drunk with his scent, with the wanting spreading through her. This was such a bad idea…sleeping together…after days wondering and thinking about him and wanting to stay away….
He stroked the edge of her panties and tugged. “Can I take these off, hmm, can I take these off, Beth? I’ll kiss you and touch you…that’s all I’ll do tonight, only what you want me to.”
She closed her eyes tighter. His hunger made her feel so special, that she had to remind herself he had been in mourning, was known to be a solitary man, maybe felt lonely. He probably wanted to take something from Hector. It wasn’t her he wanted—he just wanted sex.
But tonight’s unexpected kiss came back vivid in her mind, and when he slid his hand to cup one aching breast, a sound escaped her.
“Ahaaaa—” he drew out the sound, lacing it with pleasure “—you want me?”
She made a sleepy sound, murmured, “Sooo tired,” and rolled onto her stomach. He came with her, his mouth a moist flame ravaging her nape. “It’s been a long time for me, Beth. I won’t pretend I don’t want this. You.”
He didn’t stop touching her. He seemed to be memorizing her curves, seemed to have gone wild, like an animal, a caveman, as his hands traced her sides up and down, his hips rocking seductively against hers. “Turn around and kiss me again, Beth.”
His body heat singed her back, and she could barely keep from moaning when he ground harder against her, tightening his hold on her hips, dragging his tongue up her neck. Her toes curled, and her sex rippled with wanting.
“Landon,” she breathed. She forced herself to lay stiff as a board, but what he was doing felt entirely too good. She went lax, grabbed the pillow in front of her and moaned as he burrowed a hand under her body and pinched one nipple. “Oh.” She arched back instinctively, and then nearly screamed in delight when he circled it with his thumb.
“Kiss me, Beth.”
“I…” She turned around to face him, breathing hard. “I can’t feel my tongue.”
“God, you’re so sexy all uninhibited like this, give it to me.” Sweeping down, he closed his mouth over hers and gently suckled her tongue into his warm mouth. She felt that, goodness, she did. He tasted of champagne and her dizzied senses swam like frantic fishes in all kinds of directions as she let herself get even more drunk on her husband’s intoxicating flavor.
She twisted her tongue around him and trailed her fingers over his chest before she remembered why this couldn’t be. “Oh, no, we shouldn’t—Landon, don’t.” Bolting upright and pushing him away, she smoothed her T-shirt with awkward, trembling hands. “I’m sorry. I can’t. Not after the papers I signed.”
He looked at her for a moment, then gave a long exhale. “I’m not losing another child. If you get pregnant, I want it.”
Regret thickened her voice as she attempted to recover the sheets, needing something to clutch instead of the gorgeous man before her. “I’m not giving away a baby of mine, not even to you—I won’t risk it. Excuse me but you’re sitting on the sheets.”
He cursed and drew her so close, embraced her so tight her breasts were crushed against his chest and her hands had to release the sheets she’d been trying to hang on to for sanity.
“Stop thinking so much and just feel for a minute,” he growled, then smoothed his hands along her hair, and murmured, “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to pleasure you, Bethany, I’m going to make you forget every man in your life but me.”
Her insides disintegrated at that passionate vow. The need to kiss him, be with him, became so acute, she wanted to weep and scream in frustration. She wanted to say, to hell with it! and give her husband a wedding present no husband in his right mind ever forgets.
But he wasn’t truly her husband, and she couldn’t bear to repeat her mistakes, set herself up for heartache again. She’d been an innocent when she’d married Hector, but now she knew better.
She wiggled free of his hold and succeeded in pulling a part of the covers back over herself, as though they were the Berlin Wall itself—probably barely enough to keep a man like him away. Her voice, though she tried to keep it steady, broke in the end. “The black book is in the top nightstand drawer. I’m sure that’s what you want to read tonight, being that you married me for it.”