His eyes meet mine. For a fraction of a second, his eyebrows pinch, forming a tight V. I know he can see thoughts jumbling, piling up in my head even if he can’t read them.
“No,” he says. “No more brooding.”
He dips his head. At the first touch of his lips on my clit, my back arches, electric pleasure chasing away all my thoughts. His tongue licks me all over, the touch light, deft and expert. A series of little fireworks seems to go off inside, but it’s just a prelude to where he’s about to push me. He’s too deliberate, too driven.
Cupping my ass, he tilts my pelvis and drives into me with his tongue. My nerves are strung so tight it only takes a couple of shallow thrusts before I’m climaxing all over his face. I cry out, my head thrown back. He doesn’t let up. He increases the intensity, overloading my senses. I twist and turn, but I’m helpless in his grasp.
“Stop, I can’t…” I sob.
He gives another deliberate lick. “Your taste… God, I can do this all night.”
“You’re going to kill me.”
He chuckles darkly, the sound unbearably seductive. “We can kill each other.”
That’s the last thing I comprehend before another orgasm barrels through me, hits me like a locomotive dropped from space. It buries me, and I feel like I’m going to faint.
When I can finally drag air into my lungs again, Elliot is positioned between my legs, his face over mine. He’s sheathed in a condom, and I can feel his cock throbbing against me.
“Now,” I whisper.
He sinks into me, slow inch by slow inch. I start to close my eyes at the amazing fullness.
“Don’t,” he orders. “Look at me.”
I blink, then stare up at him. His face is flushed and stark. Lust and something I’ve never seen before dilate his eyes. His arms and shoulders shake with tight control, and I place my feet flat on the mattress and tilt my hips, pulling the rest of him into me.
Breathing hard and our hearts beating like hummingbirds’ wings, we gaze into each other’s eyes. “Elliot,” I whisper.
“Annabelle.”
Shock stiffens my body. He said he would never call me that because of his ex…
His forehead touches mine, followed by hi
s lips. “Annabelle Reed. My wife.”
A huge knot forms in my throat, and it’s all I can do to swallow it. “Elliot… I thought—”
He places a finger over my mouth. I can taste myself on it. “I know. But I was wrong.” He kisses me with aching tenderness. “It doesn’t matter what your name is. You’re the one. You’ll always be the one. It just took me too damn long to figure that out.”
Tears flow freely. He kisses them away as he moves within me. Each stroke is deeper and hotter than the one before, and it doesn’t take long before I’m consumed with need and love for this complicated man in my arms. Every time I think this is the end, he does something to utterly shatter me.
He raises himself up and looks at my face. His breathing is shallow and rough, emotion inflaming his beautiful face. A scorching erotic tension coils inside my gut so tightly that it’s almost painful.
“Come, Annabelle,” he coaxes. “Come for me.”
And I do, unable to resist. I arch my body, pressing against him. He drives into me once…then again and again and again before letting go with a guttural cry.
Making sure not to crush me, he levers himself off and lies to the side. I clutch him to me. I’m unable to bear an inch of separation from him even as desire dissipates and my head starts working again.
I lay my hand over his heart. It’s knocking against his chest hard and fast. He has to feel something for me. Maybe it isn’t love—not yet—but it’s something deeply emotional and strong, because he has no reason to want to rip up our perfectly fine marriage contract or call me Annabelle.
“What are you thinking?”
I hesitate, then murmur, “Nothing.”
He puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head up. “When a woman says nothing, it’s always something.”