Pillow Chase

“Surprise.” He nudged the tip against her aroused skin, a quick touch to test her response. “The see-through vibrator turned out to be a lot more.”

“What—” she sucked in another hard breath, eyelids blinking against the blindfold in a rebellious attempt to see “—is this? A water torture device?”

“A dual temperature vibrator.” Another quick nudge that made her sex contract wildly as the cold blasted her skin. “The extreme sensations are supposed to push you over the edge.”

“I’ll be over the edge of this chaise if you touch me with that thing again.”

“Sure you don’t want to give it a shot? You’re so hot that cooling down might feel good.” He used his cool fingers to up her temperature a few more degrees.

She might be hot, but when another droplet dripped onto her stomach and into her navel, Miranda jumped.

“How about this to help you decide?” Troy finally went for her bra, lifting the garment under her arms so her breasts tumbled free. He knew exactly how to arouse her, how to make her dissolve in his arms so she’d agree to anything.

And that was exactly what Miranda needed right now. She needed to abandon herself to arousal, wanted to drown out her thoughts with pleasure, so she couldn’t think of anything but the way he rolled her nipples into a frenzy of sensation. The way he swirled the vibrator around a tip. The way the condensation chilled her, shocking in intensity.

“How’s that?” he asked.

She took a few deep breaths, willed herself to relax enough to describe the feeling. As that ache speared through her, she realized that torture wasn’t an adequate description. “It’s…different.”

“Too much?”

She shook her head. “Just intense.”

Touching the tip to her other nipple, he shot the cold through her again, making her arch her back to press into his hands, to feed this icy ache.

With skilled fingers, Troy obliged. He warmed her skin with knowing touches, and hot pleasure radiated through her, a striking contrast to the cold, an intensity that made her realize exactly what she wanted.

Curling her fingers over his hand, Miranda guided his newest toy between her thighs. “Let’s try this.”

She started tentatively, testing the feel of that iciness, pausing to prepare herself for each touch.

“Still intense?” He glided the vibrator lightly along her in a channel of chilly condensation and warm skin.

“Mmm-hmm, but nice. In small doses.”

With the flick of a switch, he made the vibrator hum to life, the pulsation against her oh-so sensitive sex causing her to moan out loud. He rolled it against that bundle of nerves, a glancing caress that made her shiver.

“I like this.” He dragged his mouth over her throat in an openmouthed kiss and pressed the length of the vibrator between her thighs, catching her everywhere with that pulsating cold.

Miranda didn’t reply. She was too busy riding the sensation, and she wasn’t the only one. Troy ground his erection against her back, a demand that conveyed his need louder than words. Her pleasure brought him pleasure. What could be better?

Miranda could think of only one thing.

Scooting up on his lap, she arched her bottom until his erection rode forward. She didn’t have to say a word. He knew what she wanted. Slipping a hand between them, he maneuvered that hardness against her chilled skin, a hot length that sank inside with an unfamiliar force that stole her breath.

She was so tight and wet that he growled, a throaty rumble against her ear as he grasped his arms around her, gave a few driving thrusts that made her gasp. And that sexy device…he held it poised where she could feel it most, and condensation mingled chilly water with their body’s heat to create a powerful sensation that had her rocking back to meet his thrusts.

Only Troy could take her apart this way, could overwhelm her with his body, with his hunger, with his love. He indulged her, took his own enjoyment in her responses, and the simple honesty of his emotions, the overwhelming honesty urged her to reply in kind, to coax him into the same frenzy.

And Miranda could always satisfy her husband in bed. She was an accommodating wife, the perfect match to her equally accommodating husband.

So why had life become such a struggle?

The question sideswiped her, a rational thought that cut through her haze of pleasure, real. And the special connection they shared betrayed her. Troy must have sensed her hesitation, guessed she’d become distracted, because he suddenly slowed his pace to press hungry kisses along her neck.

She didn’t want anything to intrude on their time together, especially not thoughts that had no place in their bed. So arching her head back, she leaned into his touch, reassured by the feel of his mouth on her skin, the way he could turn unwanted doubts into breathless gasps.

His every stroke combined with the vibrator, so direct, so intense, so overwhelming, and she forced her focus onto the way her sex clenched in greedy reply, so close to the edge.

Holding her breath expectantly, she tried to knead her climax into breaking, wanting to lose herself in the ecstasy she knew in Troy’s arms, needing oblivion to drown out the thoughts racing inside her head.

But the sensation remained just beyond reach. Even though her body burned. Even though she wanted release so much that she clung to her husband and rode him with hard strokes. Even though she tried to crowd out the intruding thoughts by the strength of her will and the blinding force of their lovemaking.

Despite the effort, her oncoming orgasm evaporated like a mist beneath the sun. Within the space of a heartbeat, all her pleasure slipped away, leaving behind only a lingering warmth to mock her.

It was gone, and wouldn’t come back. No matter how hard Miranda willed herself to relax. No matter how far she’d already traveled toward fulfillment. No matter how she yearned to feel her husband’s hands on her. The moment was over no matter what Troy might do to arouse her again.

For one blind moment she thought about admitting her climax had gotten away. It happened. All couples faced an ebb and flow of arousal when they’d been together a while. This shouldn’t be a big deal, wouldn’t have been…

Except this wasn’t the first time.

2

TROY HAD MIRANDA on the verge of coming apart in his arms and then in an instant, he’d lost her. Bonelessness had yielded to stillness. Frenzied reactions had become deliberate.

He’d been making love to his wife for a long time and knew neither of them could always be on. Miranda knew that, too. But instead of giving him a chance to find other ways to arouse her or at least being honest about losing the mood, she’d distracted him. She’d kickstarted a rhythm he hadn’t been able to resist.

She’d pretended everything was all right.

It wasn’t. They had a problem here—more than one because she refused to acknowledge what was happening. He couldn’t be sure whether she was in denial or simply hiding the issue, but all the togetherness they were sharing on this vacation hadn’t succeeded in getting her to open up.

“Come here, Miranda.” He hoped she didn’t recognize his raw tone for the disappointment it was.

Threading his fingers around her waist, he helped her maneuver until he could pull her into his arms. She stretched out, her legs twined with his, their bodies pressed close so he could feel her smooth curves against him.

With a few tugs, he loosed the blindfold until he found himself staring into her sultry blue eyes, a gaze that could be polished and cool or so alive with pleasure. Her expression was shadowed now, unreadable, as if she shielded her thoughts behind an invisible wall. He thumbed her cheek, a touch he hoped conveyed his yearning, the pleasure he felt to be with her again.

“I love you, Miranda.” He moved in for a kiss, and his mouth caught hers, his tongue sweeping inside to prove he meant what he said.

He loved her, for better or worse, always.

Miranda snuggled close and returned his kiss with a longing that might have surprised him if he’d missed what had just happened. But he felt her restlessness now, sensed her need for reassurance, even if he didn’t know what she needed to be reassured about. He couldn’t understand what was happening with her, why she’d gone from hot to cold, unless she talked to him. She wasn’t and that bothered him. A lot.

When they finally broke their kiss, he leaned back against the chaise. “I just want to lie here and hold you for a while.”

“Your wish is my command, Lieutenant Commander.”

He wished she would tell him what was wrong. But he wasn’t going to ask again. The last time he’d tried to get her talking, she’d only given him a bunch of evasions. Then she’d retreated behind her perfect wife persona—exactly what she was doing now.