When he was finally seated fully inside her... the feeling was indescribable. His chest pounded, not just with lust, but also with something far more important.
“I love you,” he said.
And then he proved it.
• • •
How could he do this to her? How could he be so gentle and tender?
This wasColt, for God’s sake. Her hardened, angry ex-husband who’d slept with her for months before giving her any clue that she was more to him than the flavor of the week. She could count on one hand the number of times he’d said he’d loved her, and it had never been like this.
She almost hated him.
Almost.
But that stupid, weak part of her that would always love him was too busy basking in—savoring—every touch, every caress, and every heart-tugging look in his eyes as he thrust slow and deep—achingly slow and deep—inside her.
The pain was almost unbearable. Not in her body—although she’d forgotten that feeling of stretching—but in her squeezing chest.
Her heart wanted to remain indifferent, but under the weight of such a fierce onslaught, it was yearning—longing—to reach for the brass ring that he offered. To let him take away the pain. To let him love her. To let him fill the cold emptiness inside her even if just for a moment.
And with him on top of her, holding her, filling her body so completely with his, that brass ring seemed hers for the taking.
He was tearing down her resistance with every tender,poignant stroke. With sweetness. With gentleness. With emotion.
With the feeling of his body sliding into hers.
“I love you.”
She didn’t want his love, damn it. She wanted to come. She wanted him to take her hard and fast in a blaze of fiery passion. She wanted to pretend it didn’t mean anything. That none of this meant anything. That he wasn’t giving her everything she’d longed for for almost five years.
But he wouldn’t let her. No matter how hard she fought. No matter how she touched him, what naughty things she whispered in his ear, or how hard she gripped the rock-hard ass that she’d always loved to urge him to go harder and faster.
It didn’t matter what she did. He wouldn’t fuck her the way she wanted.
He fought off her attempts with unrelenting purpose that left her nowhere to hide.
For the first time, Colt made love to her. Thoroughly and completely. And when they finally came together, he broke her.
Looking into his eyes as the emotion inside her built to the point of no return, she felt her heart open. She let him in. For one incredible moment she let him fill her with everything he wanted to give her, and she cried out with the joy and pleasure of it.
But when she came down, she came down hard. She hit the ground in a free fall of regret and anger. It jarred her. It made her body, still warm in the afterglow and heat of his embrace, cold.
Reality set in, and the horror of what she’d done—what she’d let herself feel—hit her full force like a slap in the face.
Did she enjoy pain? Was she some kind of masochist?
She pushed him off her and tried to roll away, whichwas easier said than done with six feet four inches of heavily muscled operator on top of her.
“You have to go,” she said, her voice sounding panicky even to her own ears. “I can’t do this, Colt.”
She was too weak. Too vulnerable. Too stripped to the core from her uncharacteristic loss of control earlier.
She tried to scoot out of bed—or maybe she was pushing him out—but he held her down with one arm and lifted up on the other elbow to look down at her.
God, he was sexy. His big, perfectly muscled body leaning over her like that. Perfectly musclednakedbody. She didn’t want to look—liar!—but it was hard to miss. His shoulders, arms, chest, stomach... lower... were all in peak condition and top operational form. In other words, he looked like one of those guys in a fitness magazine but with more scars and without the baby oil. He didn’t need oil to emphasize his muscles. Although the sweat was kind of doing the same thing.
She turned her gaze away harshly.
