Husband Heel (Husband Series Book 3) Read online

  The fit wasn’t easy as it slipped and slid along my labia, but I kept moving, smiling down into his tortured eyes as I worked to get him inside me. Then at last I could feel the tip pressing into the right place, and I caught my breath.

  “Don’t stop there,” he commanded, his fingers clutching onto mine again, up over his head, his biceps bunching so deliciously I had to lean over and lick them. In fact, I suddenly realized that I’d wanted to lick that swirling tattoo for some time. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I’m normally a patient man, but—”

  I slid down onto him and he caught his breath, loudly, his eyes widening as they stared up into mine.

  Despite all the lubrication, my vagina was so tight it stung, and that could be due to lack of use.

  He’d been watching me, and he straightway said, “You winced. Did that hurt?”

  I nodded, because the last thing I planned to do with Nicholas was lie. This might be the only honest sexual relationship I ever had. I wasn’t going to ruin that. But I also wasn’t going to sully it with explanations of what had gone before, so I simply said, “It’s been a while.”

  “Then we’ll go slow.”

  Chapter Seven

  He untangled his hands from mine and grasped my shoulders to ease me up until I was sitting astride him with that glorious chest and those spectacular abdominal muscles arrayed before me.

  His hands came to rest on my hips. “I haven’t let myself believe that this would actually happen. Between us.” His voice was husky and his eyes searching mine with some vulnerability I’d never seen before. “But you trust me.”

  I nodded.

  “You’re sitting on my cock with no condom between us.”

  I nodded again.

  “Fuck.” He shook his head, as if his mind was only now catching up. Then his gaze drifted down as his hands slid up from my hips to cup my breasts which weren’t large by any measure but a respectable B cup. His thumbs brushed the nipples and I instantly felt a clutching between my legs, as if the two places were linked.

  Then his hands slid down over my ribs to circle my waist and he shook his head. “You’re so tiny. So delicate.”

  I could have been offended, wondering if he usually had sex with Amazons, like Gisel, but I could see the admiration in his gaze. He was marveling at the differences between us. I was clearly something ‘other’ to him, and whether that involved the mystique of my social position, I wasn’t sure. But I was doing the same thing, marveling that this protective, vigilant—and possibly lethal—professional had lowered his guard so completely.

  In that moment, we were simply a man and a woman, driven by desire. So I put every other thought out of my mind and lifted my haunches, feeling him slide inside me. It still stung, but the pleasure of his touch over-rode that as he slid is hands around to caress my backside and tingles ran up my spine.

  Up and down— my body woke up again as he stared up into my eyes, that magnificent chest rising and falling faster and faster as the stinging faded and an emotion grew inside me, a validation, a knowing that I was okay.

  I could make love.

  I could be what a man wanted.

  I could be what I wanted.

  And this was clearly what Nicholas wanted—me—not someone else. The way he was looking up at me so hungrily, his eyes dark, his breaths growing shorter and shorter. He wasn’t thinking about anyone else in this moment.

  And that was the last coherent thought I had before he growled and rolled me onto my back, driving his fingers into my hair so he could hold my head still and kiss me hard, crazy, as he pounded into me and the angle of our positions rubbed against me so deliciously I started to moan. Again. Somehow the stinging and the rubbing combined to push me over the edge only seconds before he came, and then we were both crying out, clutching onto each other, shuddering and tingling so hard it felt almost painful.

  It was wild, and unlike anything I’d ever experienced before.

  In the aftermath I lay still with my head to one side, listening to our harsh breaths, to the blood pounding in my ears as he hung over me, kissing my cheek, my neck, my forehead.

  When I opened my eyes I was surrounded by biceps again, and it felt safe, and I felt safe, and loved…

  But that wasn’t right. I wasn’t loved by Nicholas. I’d been loved, but emotion wasn’t part of the package.

  Still, the gentle way he was kissing me felt like…something.

  I turned my head to look up into his eyes, and he smiled, all white teeth and frisky blue eyes. He seemed to have far more energy than I possessed in that moment.

  The smile turned into a grin. “I loved that,” he said simply and I nodded.

  “Me too.”

  I wanted things to be uncomplicated, unburdened by overthinking—as Jill was so prone to—but my logical mind was intent on dissecting his sentence. I loved that. Not I love you. He loved that, the sex.

  And did that matter? Was I really that old fashioned? Could I not have sex with a man unless he was in love with me? And how did I feel about having sex with a man I wasn’t in love with? Was that okay, or did it make me feel cheap?

  I stared up into his clear, blue eyes and realized I didn’t feel cheap. Not at all. I felt relieved, satisfied, and…light.

  “Thank you,” I said, because I wanted to express the gratitude I was feeling, even if he didn’t understand it.

  However, he surprised me by saying, “For proving to you that you can have uncomplicated heterosexual sex and enjoy it?”

  I stared back at him.

  “I’m not an idiot,” he said, which was a huge understatement. I was starting to realize he was very astute. “I understood what this was going into it.”

  A moment of disquiet opened up inside me before I pushed it back. “And what was this?”

  “You, healing your sexuality.” He stared down into my eyes and I suddenly had nowhere to hide. “Although, yesterday I realized there was more going on for you emotionally than just sex. The kitten, Lizzie’s baby. You’re scared of them both.”

  I shut my eyes. It was the only way I had to retreat because he was pinning me down with his lower body. “Are you my analyst now?”

  “As well as your lover?” he asked.

  I felt myself go still. Was he my lover? Did I want him again?

  “So…” he drawled. “The fact that you’re tensing up tells me you’re conflicted.”

  I’d never felt so naked, so vulnerable—or so understood—in my life, and it was beyond unnerving.

  “Louella,” he said softly, and I forced my eyes open. “This attraction between us…it doesn’t have to go any further than sex. I’m not going to get out a shotgun and make you marry me.”

  He was trying to make me laugh, but he was right, I was tense.

  “I don’t know what I feel,” I said, trying to stick with honesty.

  His smile was slow to come. “Satisfied, I hope.”

  Okay, that did make me smile. “Yes, very. Thank you.”

  “Stop thanking me. That was the best hour of my life.” His expression grew serious. “And if you shut me out, I’ll be gutted. I want…more. Of you. With you.”

  I sucked in an unsteady breath. “More sex?”

  He frowned, but looked as if he was trying to smile at the same time. “Is it impossible to believe that I like being around you?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m so much fun.”

  “Yes.” He pushed his fingers into my hair again, holding my head still when I wanted to turn away. “You’re kind and gentle with people, despite what you want them to think about you. I see you noticing ridiculous things and carefully not rolling your eyes. That’s funny.” He grinned. “And I see how fiercely you love your girlfriends, even the crazy redhead who has no boundaries.”

  He had been observant.

  “…and yes, sex, because when you walk into a room, so beautiful and untouchable, I can’t think past wanting to mess you up, to undo all those neat little buttons and s
mear your perfect red lipstick.” He glanced at my lips, before adding, “But I gotta admit, I had no idea that you’d be so uninhibited. So goddamn sexy. Those noises you made…” He shook his head and I felt my cheeks heating up. “I’m completely undone. I honestly can’t think past wanting to do that to you again.”

  “My vagina is sore,” I deadpanned, but instead of bantering back, he eased himself out of me and lay at my side, one hand still restless on my body, as if he didn’t want to let me go. Which was…comforting, actually.

  “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I thought all the arousal beforehand—”

  “I wasn’t a virgin, but…” I weathered my cheeks heating again but I simply couldn’t meet his eyes. “It simply isn’t used to penetration.” I swallowed before I could go on. “You did nothing wrong. I just need…practice.”

  I did glance at him then and he was looking at me very intently. “Was that an invitation?”

  Was it?

  “Because,” he went on. “I know the moment you walk out of this room, you’re going to think up a hundred reasons why you should never be naked with me again. I can see that coming. But I don’t want any of those reasons to be He doesn’t want me. Because I do. I want you very badly, on every level.”

  I caught my breath, because that was one of the sexiest things I’d ever heard. But I had to ask, “What does on every level mean?”

  He stared at me a moment longer and frowned. “Maybe we shouldn’t get ahead of ourselves. Maybe we should just stick with sex—”

  “Until what? My divorce comes through, because I thought—”

  His mouth fell open in shock. “Are you married?” His hand came off my waist and he actually backed up on the bed. “I thought Marcus Knight was your ex-husband? Are you only separated?”

  My heart started racing and I told myself to calm down. This wasn’t my problem. It was his problem. “I have several months to go before our year of living apart is completed. After that I can file for divorce—”

  “Christ!” He backed out of the bed and stumbled upright to stand naked and glorious before me, the swirling tattoo on his bicep the only decoration on a body Michelangelo could have sculpted. I had a second of realizing why my vagina had been stretched before he said, “I’m such an idiot!”

  Belatedly, I refocused on his face. “What’s wrong?” I sat up in the bed, pulling the sheet primly up over my breasts.

  He waved a hand in my direction. “For all I know, you could get back together with your husband tomorrow. Maybe you’re waiting for him to sort out his financial mess—”

  “What part of my husband is gay don’t you understand?” I hated that I’d raised my voice but his frustration was contagious.

  He looked at me scornfully. “I’ve been a bodyguard in Sydney for ten years. You don’t think I’ve seen marriages of convenience? I can’t tell you the number of men and women I’ve guarded who were having affairs with the consent of their spouse.”

  I knew of people like that myself and I, too, found it abhorrent. “You suspect me of being like them?”

  I could see from his sudden stillness that he realized how insulting his accusations were.

  When he made no reply, I said, “Clearly you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

  “So you don’t plan on getting back with him.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Can you pass me something to wear?” I said. “Or excuse yourself…” I pointed at his adjoining bathroom, “…so I can leave?”

  “Here’s the thing,” he said, and I raised one eyebrow, trying to be patient but I really wanted to be out of his presence because I was starting to feel angry, which I knew wasn’t an appropriate reaction in the circumstances. “I have strong boundaries about marriage,” he went on. “I don’t take it lightly. So despite that I’d walk through a warzone to get another hour in bed with you—I want you that much—I won’t do anything about that until your divorce is final.”

  Silence pulsed in the room and he swallowed loudly, as if he was only just realizing what he’d said.

  I merely waited until I was sure he was finished, then I said, “May I leave now?” my voice as calm as if I was telling the housekeeper which flowers I wanted this week.

  “Not yet.” He gazed at me for several more seconds before he said, “I want to check the house, check your room. We’ve been here for hours and I haven’t been working.”

  I could see he was regretting that now, and I had the tiniest moment of thinking I wish this had never happened, before I was forced to admit that I was very glad that it had. I’d stepped over a threshold into ‘normal sex’ and I felt good about that— thrilled, in fact, that my body had been so responsive.

  The heterosexual orientation I’d been born with wasn’t broken. My years with Marcus hadn’t turned me into some weird deviant, despite my euphoria at the sadism I’d experienced. That had been anger. This had been sex. I could see the two were different, and I was relieved beyond measure that normal sex—boring sex according to Fritha—satisfied me so completely.

  I was also glad that my affair with Nicholas had ended so decisively, because otherwise I might have tried to talk myself into something regular with him because the pleasure had been so…unforgettable?

  In any case, it was over now—his choice—and I should be relieved about that.

  “Thank you,” I said, and watched while he turned around to find his jeans. I hadn’t seen his naked back before, and it was just as glorious as his front—wide and muscular— not to mention the length of his legs and those beautifully proportioned thighs which ended in a backside so delicious, I could suddenly understand why women would say I just want to bite it!

  He pulled denim over it and turned back to face me. “Wait here,” he said, his bodyguard face very much in evidence—completely unreadable.

  “Certainly.”

  I breathed slowly as we stared at each other a moment longer, and I didn’t miss the moment when his gaze dropped to my breasts, still modestly hidden by the sheet, then he turned away, let himself out, and shut the door behind him.

  It had been my intention to slip straight out of bed and find something in the bathroom—a towel—that I could be wearing when he came back. But as I slid to the side of the bed, I realized I was shaky. When I stood, my knees wobbled and I had to remain still for some time before the dizziness passed.

  Was I lightheadedness from pleasure? I wasn’t sure if I’d ever experienced an orgasm like that before, let alone two. Nicholas was right. I’d been completely uninhibited. Later, that might frighten me. But now, while necessity drove me, I filed it away, alongside the fact that semen was running down my leg.

  While I waited for my legs to stop wobbling, I touched the sticky liquid out of curiosity, then raised those fingers to my nose. Which was a mistake. Because the moment I smelt it—smelt him—the throbbing returned.

  Nicholas wasn’t even in the room and I wanted him.

  That frightened me. There was no way I was having more intercourse. My ‘girl parts’ as Jill so coyly put them, hurt. But the idea of touching Nicholas, of making him come, the way he’d made me…

  That though flashed into my mind and I closed my eyes to smell those fingers again, shamelessly indulging in a fantasy that would not be acted upon.

  Only, the door opened and Nicholas caught me inhaling.

  His non-expression immediately altered, his eyes darkening, his shoulders dropping. “What are you sniffing?” His gaze dropped to my pubic mound, covered only with a dusting of blond hair, and it was quite clear that he understood instantly what I was doing.

  I pushed down embarrassment—not only at being caught, but at being naked. My hand fell to my side and it was all I could do to stop myself covering my breasts.

  He took a step into the room and shut the door. “Is that a new experience too?” He nodded at my groin.

  “Yes.” My voice was husky.

  “Do you have any idea how…territorial that makes me fe
el, to see that running down your leg, and to know it’s mine?”

  “No.” But I could see the heat in his gaze, the way his deep voice had roughened slightly.

  He stepped back against the closed door, as if he wanted to put as much distance between us as he could. Then he said, “I’ve always considered myself disciplined, controlled, but you’ve been chipping away at that for days. Hell, weeks.” He shook his head. “All I have to do is look at you and I’m derailed. Even now I’m thinking separated is nearly divorced, when I know damned well it isn’t.”

  It was a revelation to me that Nicholas had been looking at me ‘that way’ for weeks, but it didn’t clarify anything. In fact, it made me even more confused. “I don’t know what to think of this.” I swept a hand toward his bed. “But you’ve made your position clear. I’m still married. You have morals and I respect that.”

  “So you’re going to walk away?” He sounded as confused as I was, and the frown beneath his rumpled dark hair made him look…vulnerable.

  “When my wobbly legs will work, yes.”

  His frown deepened for a split-second, then his expression cleared. “Are you telling me…I made your legs wobbly?”

  All of a sudden, I couldn’t stand the nakedness, so I pulled the sheet off his bed and wound it around myself to buy time, but in the end, I had to be truthful. I owed him that, if nothing else.

  So I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin and said, “That was the best sex I’ve ever had, the best sex I’ve ever heard of, and perhaps the best sex I’ll ever experience in my life. So yes, I’m entitled to a few minutes of wobbliness while my body tries to find its way back from planet euphoria. You are not the only one derailed here.”

  He smiled at me then, a soft and completely genuine smile that made my heart stutter in my chest, despite my best intentions to get out of his room with my composure intact.

  “Thank you,” he said softly. “That means a lot.”

  For some completely crazy reason, my eyes prickled then, as if I might cry, which was beyond ludicrous, so I said, “Is my home safe? May I leave your room now?”