“Not even then,” he insisted, but her lashes lowered hiding her thoughts from him. “Look at me, dammit.” Lashes lifted and he smiled, caressing her face. “I’m not leaving. Ever.” This time she didn’t turn when he kissed her. He teased the seam of her mouth until she parted her lips. Sinking his hands into her hair, he growled and kissed her. Hard and deep. He slaked his thirst, his hunger on her, on her lips and tongue.
“I want you,” she whispered against his mouth.
“Take me.”
She lifted up and away from him, her dark hair spilling over his chest as she looked down. The silky strands were like cool water against his overheated skin. They reached for his pants at the same time and all thoughts of going slowly, of savoring the moment fled. Somehow he got his pants off, then his boxer-briefs.
Her lips wrapped around his cock. He cursed. Her clever tongue slid around the head and he almost came. Sweat gathered on his brow and along his chest as she aroused him further, using her mouth to tempt him to spill.
“Zoe, stop,” he gasped.
Peering up at him through heavy lidded lashes, she said, “Something else you wanted?” She licked the length of him.
He grabbed the bedcovers, fisting them tightly. “Yes…Christ…yes.”
Leaning to one side, she opened up the top drawer of the night stand and pulled out a condom. She ripped off the foil, then grabbed his cock. For a moment he was content to let her stroke him, until a small bead of pr**cum appeared.
“Now.” His command more a plea.
Rolling the condom on, she positioned herself above him. His back bowed off the bed when he felt the first slide of her tight heat onto his erection. He let his head fall back and eyes close as she took control.
She rocked upon him, bearing her hands on his chest and taking him deep inside. Unable to not touch her, he opened his eyes and grabbed her ass, helping her ride him.
White teeth bit down on her bottom lip as she moved, seemingly holding back any verbal response.
He slid his fingers between her curls, where she was hot, swollen and wet. Crying out, she rocked faster, her br**sts bouncing and her hair flowing down her back.
She shoved his hand away. “No.”
“Yes.” He’d be damned if he’d let her satisfy him only.
Pushing her off of him and down onto the quilts, he buried his head between her thighs. She tensed, shivered and let out a small moan. Knit stockings rubbed his back when he placed her legs over his shoulders and spread her wider, seeking to have his fill.
Over and over, he licked and sucked at her, reveling in her taste and scent. How could he have not known this was the woman he’d been searching for? She tasted uniquely Zoe. Undeniably his.
He stiffened his tongue and plunged it inside, then stroked his thumb across that swollen part of her. She moaned louder than before, her fingers tugging at his hair. He stroked her again. Her entire body trembled, her ni**les tightened to hard points and she cried out his name. The sweetest sound he thought he’d never hear again.
Flipping her over, Christian mounted her from behind and sank deep inside. Hot. Wet. Tight. He drove deeper, utterly consumed by her. She filled his empty body. His heart. His soul.
She gripped the footboard, her knuckles whitening. Convinced he was being too rough, he stopped. She made a sound of frustration and pushed back on him. “No…don’t!”
“Never.” He steadied her hips in his hands and surged inside. Once, twice, a third and then a fourth and final time when his own orgasm claimed him. “I love you, Zoe. I never stopped,” he managed to say. “I’m not leaving you ever again. Not tomorrow. Not next year. Not fifty years from now.”
Chapter Thirty
Zoe wanted to believe him, wanted to be confident in his words, but it was difficult.
Raw pain resided in her heart and soul. Still, she had made a conscious decision to have sex with him. As if on some idiot quest to make him leave. To prove that he was exactly the heartless playboy actor the world knew him to be.
But it had turned into something more. It had turned into making love.
The mattress dipped as he moved away from her, heading to the bathroom. She dropped to her side, tracing the pattern on the quilt at the end of her bed.
“It worries me to see a woman thinking so hard and so long without speaking,” Christian said teasingly, his eyes seemingly full of love, as he approached the bed. Their icy veneer had melted and his entire demeanor was relaxed. As if he knew she was his. That she had succumbed to him. Once again.
“Afraid I was comparing you to Gabriel?”
His perfect mouth twisted. “There’s absolutely no danger of that.”
“I slept with him when I came home,” she said, trying to hurt him with a lie. Just leave already, she wanted to scream, then guilt assailed her. This was so not her.
“You were alone on Palm Island.”
“How did you know?” Outrage filled her, chasing away the guilt. “You were spying on me?” Well, that would explain the two men she had seen walking up and down the mostly empty cul-de-sac her family’s beach house sat on, day after day.
“Gotta protect my assets.” He reached for her, but she scooted away.
“Of course you do. That stupid post nuptial I signed had an adultery clause. Too bad it didn’t extend to you.” Sliding from the bed, she grabbed her robe and headed to her office.
“I have not been with anyone else. From the moment I rammed into you at the airport, I have only been with you.” His heavy footsteps sounded behind her. “Besides, there’s no way in hell we would have had sex if you didn’t believe me.”
True, but she wouldn’t admit it. She slammed the door, not bothering to lock it.
“That doesn’t mean I want to continue this relationship.” After flipping on the lights, she started up her laptop and turned on the printer.
“Let me in, Zoe,” came his terse command.
She ignored him, searching through her email, until she found what she wanted and hit the print button. She grabbed a pen and waited for the last page to pop out of the printer.
The door opened.
He strode in, took one look at the pen in her hand and snatched it away. It landed on the floor and rolled under the bookshelf near it. He grabbed the sheets of paper from the tray and began to slowly tear them in two directions, his eyes boring into hers as he did.
“There’s not going to be an annulment.”
She crossed her arms. “I’ll divorce you,” she threatened, her heart not in it.