Page 56 of The Mister I Married

Alex drew her into his arms, her back to his front, and Emmy forgot all about the gown at her feet. She could feel his arousal pressing into her lower back, hard and hot with only thin cotton between their bodies. The sensation was alien, wicked. Intoxicating.

His arms encircled her, his palms gliding up her belly to cup her breasts and her head fell back against his chest with a sigh. He kneaded her, his large hands warm, his fingers rubbing and pinching her nipples, and the torment was sublime.

“Alex,” she whispered, her eyes closed, her hands gripping his hairy, muscled thighs. “Alex, please…”

She was begging, her voice reedy with need, and he acknowledged her plea with a low hum that reverberated through his chest.

His hands moved, descending, sliding over her ribcage, her stomach, edging toward the vee between her thighs.

Emmy drew in a stilted breath as his fingers dipped lower, into her heat, caressing her through her chemise.

The barrier should have frustrated her—and, in fact, it did—but the chafing cotton and his slow, circling strokes combined for the most delicious frustration she’d ever experienced.

She widened her legs, thrusting against his fingers, against her now-damp chemise, desperate and aching for release.

“Can’t wait any longer,” Alex rasped, as if reading her mind, and then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

He joined her, his naked skin and lithe limbs limned in candlelight, desire etched into every line of his face, and the sight sent butterflies fluttering through her belly. Beautiful. Her husband was a beautiful man, strong yet gentle. Quiet yet confident.

He moved with efficiency now, stripping off her chemise and tossing it to the floor before moving over her and settling between her thighs.

He leaned down, bracing on both forearms as he took her lips with his, the kiss searing, urgent, his tongue licking deep, drawing a groan from her throat.

She gripped his shoulders and squirmed beneath him, restless, gasping at the press of his hardened length against her quim.

He grunted an oath, his hips shifting, his mouth hot on her throat as he stroked deep, filling her to the hilt.

“Saints be,” she breathed, the invasion so fierce, so intense, it nearly overwhelmed her. She wanted to close her eyes, give herself over to the moment, but she wanted to watch Alex more. She wanted to see his face as he loved her. As he lost himself in her.

She wanted to watch him spend his seed inside her.

“Emmy,” he rasped, his hips pumping, his gaze hot, and she met each thrust with her own, wild, hungry, seeking satiation.

Close. So close.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and tilted her hips, taking him deeper, snapping the final thread of her tenuous control.

She stiffened and cried out as her orgasm shuddered through her, the pleasure immeasurable, pulsing through her body in waves.

Alex came hard, spilling his seed inside her, his head thrown back, his teeth gritted. Emmy drank him in through hazy eyes, satisfaction, joy washing over her that she’d done this to him. She’d made him lose himself, lose control. Only her.

Gently, Alex withdrew and fell onto his back on the bed, his chest rising and falling with each panting breath. A comfortable silence fell between them, and Emmy lay there, contented, listening to their labored breathing and the quieting thump of her heart.

A deep sense of satisfaction settled over her, and she was certain she had never felt so thoroughly relaxed in the whole of her life.

“Well,” she said into the quiet, “I think we’re getting rather good at that.”

Alex barked out a laugh, and Emmy turned her head to look at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “Do you disagree?”

Still chuckling, he met her gaze, his hazel eyes soft with contented mirth. “No,” he said. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

Emmy sighed and reached for the bedsheet bunched at her feet. Now that her blood had begun to cool, the room seemed to be doing the same.

“It’s a shame that women are not permitted to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh the way men are,” she said, tucking the sheet around her breasts. “I might have done this ages ago.”

“Would you?” he asked. “You told me once you’d never met a man you wanted to kiss.”

“True, but if I’d known what kissing could lead to, I might have been keener to test the waters a bit.”