Page 72 of The Marriage Mistake

I nodded.

The restraints tightened around my forearms as he flexed his fist. “Need your words, babe.”

“Yes,” I breathed. I bent my knees and let them fall open. “Please.”

He grunted like I’d punched him in the gut. “Fuck,” he said, hips dropping. I felt the heat of him between my legs. “You look so good, babe. So fucking good like this.” He thrust against me, and the pressure of his cock against my clit made me buck. “Need a condom. Hold on.”

I pressed my thighs against his hips, pinning him in place. “I’m on the pill. Just—please—Jack⁠—”

If he didn’t do this now, right now, my brain would start spinning. If I lost the weight of him on top of me, stopped feeling the tightness of the fabric around my forearms, I might lose my nerve. I’d start thinking about all the reasons this was a bad idea, and I might actually convince myself to stop.

Stopping right now felt like death. Like I would literally die if I didn’t feel him inside me. I would go the rest of my life with the regret of having played it safe when I should’ve risked it.

His eyes flicked between mine. “I’ve never… Not since we were trying for Darby… I’m clean, I promise⁠—”

“Please,” I begged. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease⁠—”

He filled me up. One thrust, and he was buried inside me, stuffed so deep it stole my breath. He dropped his forehead to the pillow next to me and swore. “Fuck, but you feel good, baby. Better than my wildest dreams.”

I wiggled my hips, needing more. “Jack,” I whined.

“You want me to fuck you?” His voice was dark. He lifted his head and looked in my eyes, then flicked his gaze up to the T-shirt he had wrapped around his fist. With his free hand, he slid his palm up my side and squeezed my breast. Touching me like he owned me.

“Yes,” I whispered.

His eyes returned to mine and I saw that he was as lost as I was, carried out to sea on the riptide of…of whatever this was between us. This bright, electric, intense connection. Then he stared at my mouth and said, “Beg.”

“What?”

“Beg for it.”

Heat flushed through me. I wasn’t supposed to like this. I was a self-assured, successful, intelligent woman. And I was turned the hell on. “Please fuck me,” I whispered.

He hummed, shifting his hips minutely. He was still staring at my mouth. His eyes were nearly feverish.

“Please,” I whispered, desperate. My hips tried to roll, but he had me pinned in place. “Please, Jack.”

“Maybe you need to earn it. Maybe you need to have those lips wrapped around my cock before you get what you want.” His voice was black with desire, and his hips were still making tiny movements.

I nodded, wild, desperate.

With anyone else, in any other situation, this would never have happened. But Jack was the man who’d given up love to be there for his daughter and his family. He’d agreed to his grandmother’s schemes because it was what was best for Darby. He worked himself to the bone for his brother’s company.

He was caring, big-hearted, and he put everyone else ahead of himself. He was hurt and protective. And most importantly, I felt safe with him. I trusted him.

And I was white-hot with desire for him.

“Is that what you want, baby?” he asked, voice so soft and calm, completely at odds with the darkness of his eyes and the tension of his body. “You want me to fuck your face so you can earn my cock?” He thrust deeper, and I clamped my lips shut on a moan. “Or are you too impatient for it right now?”

My walls were stripped away. My brain had left the building. That was the only reason that I gave him the bare, unvarnished truth: “Jack. I just want you.”

There was a short, electric pause. Jack stared into my eyes, and I saw an ocean of yearning in his. It was perhaps the first time that he’d let me see to the very core of his soul.

And he looked like I’d just given him his deepest, most secret desire.

Something snapped between us. Jack thrust into me so hard I gasped, and then he swallowed my moan with a kiss. He kept my arms pinned above my head and drove himself into me, his free hand sliding down to feel all the contours of my body. And he kissed me again, and again, and again. The kiss deepened, transformed, and then we weren’t just having sex anymore. His movements slowed until I felt like I was losing my mind with the intensity of it.

With a flick of his hand, he ripped the shirt off my forearms and slid both his hands to my hips. “Put your hands on my body,” he grated, his lips near my ear. “Want to feel them on me.”