Be My Bride: The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby

She swallowed, sure he could feel her heart pounding against him.

‘I’m going to take my time and I’m going to savour every second I have. Don’t plan on sleeping any tonight.’

Oh.

He didn’t take his eyes off her and she couldn’t drag hers away, not when his eyes were deepening so quickly— and inviting. ‘Is that a problem?’

She shook her head, unable to make a sound.

He released her wrists, lifting his hand to cup her jaw. ‘Why have you changed your mind?’

‘I think I was wrong and you were right,’ she whispered. ‘This is…passion.’ She chose her word carefully. ‘And I think it needs to be dealt with.’

‘You think you can deal with me?’

That old arrogance brought back her smile. ‘I think for one night. Yes. I can deal with you.’ She had to.

His eyes flicked to her hair. The way he looked at her made her so hot. She wasn’t sure she was going to be able to go slow and savour; she thought she might incinerate first. She needed to cool off. And suddenly she was conscious of the ratty shorts and tee she had on—and the even rattier cotton robe she’d shrugged on as the evening cooled. ‘I was going to shower.’

‘Later,’ he said, his voice husky.

His fingers traced over her skin—her jaw, down her neck—causing her to shiver even though she was hotter than she’d been in her life. She drew in a deep breath and shifted her feet—so restless.

‘Slow,’ he reminded her with a smile.

‘I don’t want slow.’

He kissed her neck, his teeth giving her a scrape before his tongue and lips soothed the sensitive spot. ‘Yes, you do.’

Frankly she wasn’t going to be able to do slow if he kept touching her like this. She was embarrassingly turned on already, suddenly desperate for him to be inside her. She wanted that intimacy—and that orgasm—right this second. She inhaled deeply and stepped back. ‘Let me undress you.’

His eyes widened. ‘I want to. I have to. Otherwise…’ She trailed off. ‘Okay,’ he answered. ‘If that’s what you want.’

She wanted so many things, but doing this first might help her settle into it.

She started with his jacket, working one sleeve and then the other. He bent his head as she passed in front of him, briefly brushing a kiss on her jaw. She glanced up at him and smiled but said nothing. Slowly she undid the buttons on his shirt and opened it to reveal his chest. Sleek, hewn muscles, smooth strength. The kind of definition that was only built from daily training. And sweat.

Yeah, the guy was fit. So fine.

She hadn’t realised she was holding her breath and she released it now in a harsh sigh. He was silent now too but his chest rose and fell a little faster than it had before. His belt was leather and soft and her fingers struggled to work the fastenings. But he didn’t offer to help and she was glad. She wanted to do it all, discover it all.

She dropped to her haunches as she pulled his trousers down. He wore clinging black boxers beneath, fortunately made from that stretchy stuff as they were straining now. She slid her hands into the waistband. She pulled out the elastic, sweeping the boxers wide past his erection and down his muscled thighs. He stepped out of them. On her knees she glanced back up at him—practically agog at the magnificence of him.

‘Now you’re the one overdressed,’ he said roughly. She didn’t care. She just wanted to put her mouth on him.

But he drew in a hissing breath and stepped forward, bending to haul her to her feet.

‘My turn.’ He didn’t smile. He looked tense.

He pulled the belt of her robe right through until he’d tugged it completely free. She glanced at the length hanging in his hand. ‘What do you plan to do with that?’

‘I know how to tie knots.’

‘Yeah.’ She knew that; he’d had her in knots for a long time now.

But he tossed the belt to the side. ‘This time, I want to feel your hands on me.’

But another time he wanted to tie her up?

‘Ditto.’ She glanced at the belt. ‘But just so you know, I know how to tie some knots too.’

‘I’m sure you do.’ He stepped closer and took the hem of her tee in his hands. His fingers were trembling. She didn’t think he could fake that.

In a second her shirt was over her head and had landed somewhere on the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra—often didn’t at home. So now her painfully tight nipples were bared and screaming out for his touch.

He’d frozen—staring at her. She put her hands to the fastening of her shorts—that got him moving.

‘No.’ He put one hand over hers and pushed them out of the way.

He undid the button and slipped her shorts down. Then, so slowly, he slipped her thin knickers down too.

She stepped out of them both. For a fleeting moment she was surprised she wasn’t more self-conscious. But how could she be when he was on his knees looking up at her like that? He reached out, putting strong hands on her legs—one just above each knee. She stilled, her legs parted.

‘You’re even more beautiful than—’ He stopped, suddenly pressing close, his tongue swiping over her. She cried out and bent forward to put her hands on his shoulders for balance. Instinctively she pressed her hips close to him again.

It wouldn’t take much for her to orgasm. Another touch? It was crazy how close she was just from being stripped by him. But suddenly she didn’t want that—to come in a nanosecond. He was right to want to take this slow—to savour it. To indulge fully and finally complete what had been started so long ago. But she wouldn’t feel as if it was complete until—unless—he was right there with her, every step of the way.

She wanted him to feel this as strongly as she was.

‘I want to come when you’re inside me,’ she said in a quavery voice. ‘When you come too.’

His hands tightened on her legs as he lifted his chin, kissing her right there again. But then he stood, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close.

‘I’m not entering you until you’ve come.’

She blinked. ‘What?’

‘You heard.’

She snapped her spine and tilted her chin to look into his eyes. ‘Well, I’m not coming until you’re in me and on your way yourself.’

A smile stretched across his face. ‘Gonna be a fun night, isn’t it?’

She rose onto tiptoe and kissed him—openmouthed, wet, demanding. He shifted, widening his stance so he could keep them upright as she thrust against him, pushing her weight onto him. She could feel his erection slammed against her belly. She felt the way he kissed her back—as hot, as hungry, his hands sliding over her body, touching every part of her.

She smiled. So much for slow.

He lifted his head; his own smile was wicked. He kissed her again and his hands went to her breasts. She gasped at the touch. He didn’t dive straight for her nipples, instead he cupped the full weight of her breasts, gently pushing, fingers circling. She felt the tug deep inside as he kissed her again. The guy had the most incredible sense of rhythm—sweet, carnal torment.