A thought slid in, unwelcome, but impossible to shove out.Maybe love isn’t something that’s dead in me. Maybe I can feel it.
She made that sound again, even softer this time, and any hope I had of pretending I couldn’t do this with her because of who she was went up in flames. I backed her up against the nearest wall, still not holding her so tight that she wouldn’t be able to stop me if she wanted, but her fingers curled into the front of my shirt, pulling me closer instead.
“Charlotte.” My voice came out rough and strained. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”
“I don’t want you to stop, Trent,” she whispered against my mouth. “Please don’t stop.”
Aw, fuck. God help me, but I can’t walk away. She even said please. It would be rude not to keep going.
Sliding my hands to her hips without any hesitation, I lifted her up, her legs wrapping around me, and carried her to the bedroom. My bedroom that had suddenly becomeourbedroom.
As I carried her to the bed, I realized that for the first time in years, I didn’t feel hollow doing this. It wasn’t just a physical itch I needed to scratch. I felt alive. Hungry. Wanted and definitely wanting in return.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice was whispering something about remembering who she was related to, but I shut it down. Right now, she wasn’t anything other than mywife.
We were newlyweds and I had absolutely zero intention of letting her go to sleep tonight without knowing exactly how Iplanned onacting like her husband. I might not have planned for it to happen like this, or so soon, but I was painfully attracted to my wife and she was finally about to find out just how much.
CHAPTER 29
CHARLOTTE
I’d never even stepped foot in Trent’s bedroom before. During that week I’d slept right across the hall, I’d passed the doorway a hundred times, glimpsing a corner of the massive windows and the heavy wood furniture whenever I’d walked by.
Being carried into it in Trent’s arms now felt like crossing some kind of invisible line I hadn’t even known was there.Our bedroom now. Maybe. God, that’s going to take some getting used to.
It was enormous, with shadowy corners, soft lamplight, and a view of what would probably end up being the entire ranch in the daylight, but I barely noticed any of it. My focus was completely on him, on his hands so confident at my waist, on the heat of his body pressed to mine, and the way he set me down in front of the bed like he was placing something delicate. Something he cared about.
When I’d said that thing about him not having to act like a husband, I genuinely hadn’t thought he’d react the way he did, like he’d been waiting, wanting this for just as long as I had.
Trent kissed me like he was memorizing the shape of my mouth, but the slow, careful kisses didn’t last long before they got deeper. Hotter. His fingers slipped into my hair, tilting myhead exactly where he wanted me. My bones turned to liquid under his touch.
My hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt and he let out a low groan before breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over his head himself. The sight of him made my knees go a little weak, but then he was touching me again, his fingers brushing the edge of my top, giving me every chance to object.
I didn’t. The only objections he would get from me were if he tried to put a stop to this. I wanted him with every fiber of my being, my body practically humming with need. My panties were soaked, my nipples painfully hard, and judging by what I’d felt just before he’d set me down, he was aching in all the same ways.
He undressed me with a kind of reverence I wouldn’t have expected, pausing to kiss every newly bared inch of skin like he was making sure I knew he was here, present andchoosingthis.
Choosingme. His mouth trailed along my collarbone, my shoulder, and the curve of my neck. Each kiss felt like a promise he wasn’t saying out loud, so intense I could barely think. Barely breathe.
“Trent.” His name fell out of me on a whisper, more a plea than anything else.
He pressed his forehead to mine for a moment, his hands firm on my hips and those blue eyes blazing with heat as they held mine. “Tell me if you need me to slow down.”
The fact that he’d asked, like he was holding himself back and I had any sort of control in this moment, made my heart flutter like a butterfly. “I don’t want you to slow down. If anything, I need you to speed up.”
The sound he made in response was quiet, but rough, needy, and it made another flood of heat pool between my legs. We tumbled onto the bed together, kissing like we’d been waiting years for this instead of hours.
I arched into him, obsessed with the feel of his hard, hot chest against my own, but when I reached for his belt buckle, he caught my wrist, putting a stop to the movement. He broke the kiss and pulled back to look into my eyes.
“My jeans are staying on tonight, Charlotte.”
I frowned, my heartbeat hammering in my ears, but a frisson of disappointment laced through me. “Why?”
There was so much heat in his eyes, so much want. His pupils were dilated, his lips swollen from our kisses. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” I whispered, catching his face between my palms. “I want this, Trent. I wantyou.”
The way his hips were twitching just slightly where he’d fitted himself between my legs, like he couldn’t help but seek out even just a tiny bit of friction, was a sure sign that he wanted me right back.
