He wanted her; he needed her. His hold tightened. “Candice,” he breathed, nuzzling her hair. His hands slid to her buttocks, cupping them, pressing her against his thick arousal.
“Damn you!” she snapped, wrenching abruptly away.
She managed to take only a step when he caught her roughly by the wrist, pulling her back to him. Her fists came up and banged down on his chest. He ignored it, his arms already around her. He was lost, undone, and he groaned, hugging her fiercely. She fought helplessly within his embrace, but his arms were steel bands. His mouth touched her temple, her cheek. He was shaking. She went still.
Candice raised her tear-streaked face and looked at him with wide navy eyes. It was his complete undoing. He groaned and captured her lips with his. He caught great hanks of her hair. She opened, and when he thrust his tongue into her, she met it tentatively, slowly. He swung her up into his arms and carried her to their bed, laying her down carefully. She smiled at him through glistening tears and held her arms wide.
“Love me,” she choked. “Love me, Jack.”
He almost told her that he did.
“Damn,” Jack said huskily, looking at her beautiful face, her parted red lips, her thrusting breasts and tiny waist. Her skirts were spread wide on her opened thighs. He tore off his shirt and moved on top of her.
She moaned with uninhibited pleasure, wrapping her arms and legs around him and kissing him aggressively. His heart was threatening to take flight. Her hands moved down his bare back, to clasp his buttocks and knead them. He gasped as she pulled him harder into her crotch. He gave up her lips to find her soft white throat. She cried out, arching for him.
“I want to see you naked,” he said huskily, kneeling, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on her dress.
“Make love to me,” she demanded breathlessly. “Now, Jack, now.”
“Let me get your clothes off.” Cursing because there were thirty buttons, he ripped open the last few, and pulled her dress over her head, then her petticoat, chemise, and pantalets in rapid succession. She lay spread and white, voluptuous before him.His wife.
He caught her face in his hands and began nibbling her lips, her nose, her jaw. He moved down her throat, lingering on the rapidly beating pulse. He lifted her breasts, crushing them, and buried his face in their silken warmth. His tongue darted around one hard, large nipple, and then he was sliding down her belly, pushing her thighs up over his shoulders. He groaned when he buried his face between her legs, groaned at the potent scent of her, at the soft-slick feel. With his thumbs he held her open and began to plunge into the moist pink depths with his tongue. She shuddered and writhed, and began keening in ecstasy. He didn’t stop.
When she lay still he moved up alongside her, to stare at her face in the soft aftermath. She opened her eyes and smiled. He didn’t smile back.
She leaned up on one elbow and touched his chest, running her fingers over it. The heavy aching of his erection grew almost painful. She slid her hand down slowly to his belly, then paused. Instantly his hand covered hers, guiding her further, until she was enclosing his shaft, squeezing its pulsating length. He fell onto his back, breathing harshly and raggedly as she began to stroke him.
His eyes flew open when he felt her lips closing over the large head. “Candice.”
“Sshh,” she said, and began sucking, her tongue swirling around the tip.
Moments later he grabbed her head, hard, to pull her up. But she wouldn’t move, and then it was too late. His hard arms crossed over her head, locking her in place, as he convulsed violently inside her, his harsh cries ringing out.
She snuggled happily against his chest.
He stared tensely at the ceiling.
Where had she learned that? Had she done that to Kincaid? He couldn’t help it. Not the anger—nor the jealousy. He raised himself up. Her expression dissolved when she saw his. “Did Kincaid teach you that rack?”
She sat up, moved away against the wall. “That’s not fair.”
“He did.”
“He forced me.”
Jack’s jaw clamped hard. The man was dead. He had killed him. He wanted to kill him again.
“You’d better listen to me,” Candice said vehemently. “Kincaid forced me every time. I hated him. It wasn’t my fault. He beat me too. He liked hurting me. Lorna hates me, so she’d probably lie, but if you ask the other girls, I imagine they’d tell you how it was. Then you could stop accusing me of being a liar.”
He folded his hands under the back of his head. “I never said you were a liar.”
“Do you think I liked being raped? Worse—taking that pig in my mouth?”
He stared at her, judging her, and felt guilt again. The truth was on her face and in her eyes. He hated himself for his uncontrollable jealousy.
“I want to tell you something else, Jack,” Candice snapped. “I can’t take much more of your attitude. You have no hold over me. Yes, I’m having your baby. But I’m not the first unmarried mother the world has seen.”
“Are you threatening me?” he asked, sitting up.
