The pressure is intense, but in a good way. I’m stuffed full of him and pinned beneath his big body on the bed. I can’t move, can’t even shift to get some relief, and I love it every second.
Heath pulls back and sinks deep again. I shiver, my pussy dripping around his length as he picks up an easy pace. My hips rock with him, our bodies moving in perfect sync.
My boobs bounce over my tangled bra as he pounds into me. The straps slip down my shoulders, and Heath groans.
His cock is so big, so thick, hitting nerve endings I didn’t know existed as he slides in and out of me. The base of his dick presses against my clit with every thrust, driving me crazy.
“I’m so close,” I warn him.
He nods, his jaw popping as he ruts into me.
Seeing him like that sends me over the edge. My orgasm hits me like a wave, like a tsunami, sweeping me along in its strong current.
“Sienna! Fuck, baby,” he grinds out a second later. His hot release splashes inside me.
I tremble against him, and Heath kisses me, moaning against my lips.
Once his orgasm fades, he pulls back and smiles down at me.
“Hi,” I whisper.
He grins. “Hi.”
He pulls out of me gently and collapses onto his side, pulling me against him. I smile as I cuddle into his side. Heath kisses my forehead as he arranges me in his arms with my head resting on his chest.
And that’s when I know.
I’m in love with him.
And I’m so freaking screwed.
This is all fake to him; it’s all about revenge. Falling in love isn’t even on his radar. Heath’s breath evens out as he falls asleep, and I roll to my back, staring up at the ceiling.
What the heck am I going to do now that I can no longer protect my heart?
TEN
Heath
I waketo the weight and warmth of her.
Sienna is sprawled across my chest as if she were poured there, bare skin tangled with mine, one thigh hooked over my hip, her hair a dark spill against my shoulder. The room smells like her shampoo and us. She breathes softly and evenly, her lips parted as she emits a tiny snore that shouldn’t be adorable but wrecks me anyway.
I don’t move. Can’t.
There’s a moment, the first heartbeat of morning, when everything inside me goes quiet and honest. No plans, no inheritance, no family. Just the truth.
I love her.
It’s brutal and simple and complete. I love the way she hums when she stirs a sauce. I love the way she looks at a room and finds the perfect spot to set the flowers, so the entire space feels gentler. I love the way she embraces the good things with her whole body, like she’s surprised the world can still hand them to her.
I should tell her before tonight. Before vows and witnesses. Before anyone else tries to define what this is. I don’t want to go into this marriage with only one of us thinking that this is real.
Her lashes flutter. She shifts, rubbing against me, making a sleepy little sound in her throat that causes my brain to short out. I press my mouth to her hairline, inhale, and force my body to be respectful when it wants to be feral.
“Morning,” she whispers, voice rough and sweet.
“Morning, baby.” I drag my knuckles down her spine, feel her shiver. “I have something to?—”
