“I thought you wanted this,” she said, all the breathless pleasure of only moments ago replaced with uncertainty, hurt and confusion.
“I do. You know I do...only...” Damn it, he couldn’t believe he was going to say this. Couldn’t believe he had to. Forcing a laugh he didn’t feel, he burrowed his face against the soft shell of her ear. “You’ve been drinking champagne tonight...and after what happened with the wedding...I think we ought to make our most important decisions over coffee and toast.”
“But—”
“Shh.” Catching the slender arms that had sought to stop him scant moments ago, Connor pushed them above Megan’s head and held her wrists in the loose clasp of one hand as he reached for the nightstand drawer.
A moment later, he was buried inside the tight sheath of Megan’s body...working to convince them both to forget about the barriers—both physical and emotional—he’d put between them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THOUGH CONNOR HAD MADE a playground of her body, pleasuring her time and again until she didn’t have the strength to do more than melt into the warmth of his body—as the minutes drifted by with the night shadows, the hours with the darkness, sleep didn’t come.
She’d offered him what he’d been asking for. What he said he wanted.
She’d offered him herself. Their future.
And he’d turned her down.
No. It wasn’t rejection. That was what she’d come to through those sleepless hours. It was protection.
Connor felt he’d failed her the night they married, and he wouldn’t risk letting her make a decision as monumental as this if there was any chance her judgment might be impaired.
It wasn’t rejection at all. It was a good thing.
It was further evidence of the kind of caring she was learning she could count on from the man she married.
A smile curved her lips as she heard his rapid descent down the stairs. There were definitely worse things than having a man committed to her well-being.
Checking her reflection in the microwave door, she pushed a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear, then smoothed her hands over her abdomen, desperate to calm the butterflies within.
With the coffee carafe in hand, she stepped over to the intimate nook and then poured two mugs.
A second later, Connor rounded the corner, immaculately dressed, every hair in place. He flashed her a smile and grabbed a triangle of toast from the plate she’d set.
“Perfect, I’m running late.”
Before she could do more than open her mouth, he’d dropped a kiss on her cheek and thrown back half the coffee.
Taking the mug with him, he paused at the doorway, his eyes flickering to the carafe in her hand and the half-eaten toast in his.
Connor met her eyes and she saw the recognition there. The heart that had been too stunned to beat suddenly picked up, warming the chill within her chest.
“Toast and coffee,” she offered with a small smile.
Connor set down his mug at the counter, his expression reserved. “Megan, you’ve got to believe me when I tell you how honored I am you feel like you’re ready to make this commitment. And I want it. I do.”
Except he didn’t. She could see it in the lines of his face. Hear it in the strain of his voice. Feel it in the sinking pit within her belly.
“I don’t understand.” The words had passed her lips, pleading and broken before she’d had the chance to consider them. Hold them back in an effort to protect her pride. “It sounds like you’re telling me no. Like—”
Like all the fear and worry she’d reasoned herself out of the night before had been more justified than she’d allowed herself to believe.
Connor crossed to her, taking her shoulders in his hands. “I want it. But the more I consider the situation, the more important I believe it is you take the full term of the trial to decide.”
She searched his eyes, refusing to give in to the tears stinging her own. “You were so certain before. You didn’t have a single doubt.”