He wanted the real right now.
And he’d had it. Until it spilled through his fingers like an overturned cocktail.
Now, no matter how he tried to show her what it had been like, tell her what he’d learned, make her feel the insanity of the connection between them...it wasn’t the same. Wasn’t enough.
She was going to fly away tomorrow. And nothing he did was going to stop her.
Jerking the tap off, he rubbed the water from his eyes and shook out his hair.
Then, wrapping a towel around his hips, he readied himself for the goodbye he was certain awaited on the other side of the door. Or more likely down in the living room. But definitely not on the couch.
Enough pussyfooting around.
He swung open the bathroom door, determined to face the music like a man—and rooted to his spot, stunned by the sight of Megan, swimming in her giant robe, feet tucked beneath her in the wingback at the far corner of the master suite.
“Okay,” she said, nervously wringing her hands. “I’ll be your wife.”
Megan was talking, but damned if he’d understood a word she said after I’ll be your wife. In a heartbeat he’d crossed the room and had her in his arms. Her mouth was still moving when his crushed down, silencing the words he hadn’t been able to follow. She could tell him later, when the adrenaline rush deafening him to everything but the roar of victory quieted inside his head. Until then, he’d keep her mouth busy with something more productive than talk.
Hands splayed over his chest, she pulled back from him, laughing even as he tried to follow her retreat. “Wait,” she pleaded, her hands moving from his chest to frame his jaw. “Wait, Connor. We need to get a few things straight before we go any further.”
Walking them back to the bed, he shook his head. “Later. Postnuptial agreement, whatever, we’ll work it out. Tomorrow.”
“No, that’s not what—” Then, twisting her head around, she looked behind her. “No, Connor. I’m serious. Not the bed—”
Only, he was already tipping Megan back onto it. “I know you liked the door idea, but give the bed a chance. You won’t be disappointed.”
And then his mouth was on hers again, his hand following the smooth line of her thigh to her bare hip. And hell, yes, she was arching into him, moaning around the thrust of his tongue, clutching at his shoulders and then his hair. Opening wider to him and following the retreat of his tongue with the light flick of her own.
She was so sexy. She was his.
And he was going to taste every...single...inch of her tonight.
His mouth was on her neck, his tongue sliding over the rapid beat of her pulse when Megan’s muffled curse, followed by an urgent wriggle and squirm, had him pulling back to meet her eyes.
“Damn it.”
Her face screwed up into a knot of acute frustration, making Connor pull back even more as, baffled, he watched her scoot from the bed.
“Now, Connor. We need to talk now. Because I can’t agree to everything. We need some ground rules.”
“Ground rules.” He didn’t like the sound of that. “Such as?”
Tightening the belt on her robe, she shifted her weight and squinted at him. “No sex.”
Connor’s teeth ground down as he drew a long breath through his nose. “You mean...tonight?”
But even as he asked, he knew the answer.
“No. I’m talking about at all. Through the three trial months.”
Forcing himself to laugh instead of swear, he shook his head. “Forget it, Megan. This is a real marriage we’re trying on, and sex is a healthy, normal part of it.”
“It’s too distracting,” she protested. “I couldn’t even think straight when you and I were—” her hand waved back and forth through the air between them “—on the bed. And I’m talking about changing the plans for the rest of my life. I need to be able to think.”
His brow furrowed. “You’ll have plenty of time to think, sweetheart. How about I promise not to ‘distract’ you when we’re discussing something important?”