Page 74 of After-Hours Heir

They had found ways to speak over the phone. And they had found a way to speak with their bodies. Someday, maybe he would be able to speak everything with words.

But until then…

He moved his hands over her breasts, then slid one down between her thighs. He began to tease her. Torment her. He tilted her hips back farther, and the blunt head of his arousal pressed against her slick entrance. He slid inside, deep. She gasped, and he gripped her hair as he began to thrust inside of her.

She loved this about him. That he maintained his intensity. That he hadn’t stopped seeing her as a woman, as his lover, even as she took such an obvious maternal shape.

He revered her, enough to want her.

And she adored him for it.

He wrapped his arm around her midsection, supporting her stomach as he thrust deep. And then with his free hand he slapped her rear, and she yelped, the pleasurable sting sending lightning strikes across her skin.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I have wanted this.”

This thing between them was a storm.

It was always intense when they were together. But this was something more.

Everything that wasn’t spoken, everything left unsaid was burning between them like a wildfire.

And she realized then that this was where she was a gladiator. Fighting for him.

This was where they did battle. She was doing battle for his heart and soul. To show him that he could open up.

Because she believed that Christos had a deep and endless capacity for love.

It was the kind of man he was.

If he wasn’t, then she wouldn’t be in love with him.

So many people thought he was cold.

She had for the longest time.

But it was because everything inside of him was too great and too terrible for him to control, and that was what scared him.

So she unleashed her own wildness. And when they reached their peak, she cried out her pleasure.

He held her against him, his body protective over hers as his breathing returned to normal. She could feel his heart beating hard against her back.

He leaned down and bit her shoulder. “Mine,” he said.

And he might as well have saidlove, because she knew for him it was all the same.

She turned to him and cupped his face. “Yours.”

She wanted more from him. She wanted everything. But what they had was wonderful. And nobody had ever said that life was going to be perfect.

After all, her mother had said that she loved her father. But it hadn’t been real.

Not the kind of love she wanted.

This… She wanted this. Whatever they called it.

So she let her husband carry her to bed. And she listened to him breathing until they both fell asleep.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN