Overnight Wife(20)

It lasts until we’re outside. Only then do I let her down onto her own two feet, but only long enough so that I can pin her against the wall of the restaurant, and do what I’ve been hungry to do ever since I saw her this morning—ever since we were torn apart by that intrusion at work.

I kiss her, hard and deep, my tongue slipping between her lips, my hands circling her waist. She arches up against me, with a soft little sigh of relief that makes me growl in response, because fuck, I want her. I want to claim every inch of this gorgeous, sexy, hard as nails woman.

I push her against the wall, and she raises one leg, just far enough that I grab under her thigh and yank her against me. My cock is so hard I’m sure she can feel it, even through the thick fabric of both my jeans and her own. My mouth leaves hers to trail down her neck, kissing and sucking and nipping at her skin, savoring the taste of her, salty and sweet all at once, with a hint of something light and floral, not quite perfume. Maybe the scent of her shampoo? Whatever it is, I love it. I can’t get enough.

I drink her in, tracing my hands down her sides, over the smooth planes of her curves. She shivers under my hands, and I grin down at her.

“See? It’s not so bad going public, is it?”

Her breath hitches then, and she glances to one side, only just now noticing what I knew all along. We’ve got an audience. Several other diners from the restaurant, and a handful more who hadn’t entered yet, all staring open-mouthed. The stares only grow more pronounced when the valet responds and tosses me back the keys. I flash Mara a jaunty wink and head toward the car, leaving her to rearrange her shirt, which had ridden up far enough in all the fuss to show a thin line of her pale stomach.

When she manages, she jogs after me, still glaring as she climbs into the passenger seat beside mine. “You did that on purpose,” she mutters.

“I told you, I won’t hide you, or this marriage.”

“But why?”

I reach across to trace her knee again, and she shivers, even despite all her protesting. “Why do you keep fighting this, I think is the more interesting question, Mara.”

“I never thought about having a husband,” she replies. “I want a career, not… not marriage.”

“Why not have both?” I arch one eyebrow. “I fully intend to.”

Her breath catches again, but when I steal a glance at her, just as I start up the car and pull away from the curb, it doesn’t seem to be because she’s resisting. She honestly looks like she hadn’t considered the possibility.

“I… don’t know. It’s always been an either-or proposition,” she says. “Either a husband and family or a career. I want the career.”

“Don’t limit yourself like that.” I shrug. And the look on her face tells me she’s never considered that point of view, either.

I don’t drive us far. One exit away, and then I’m swinging off the highway already, aimed toward the nearest dark alley.

“Where are we going?” she asks, her hands still tracing my forearm absently, as if she wants to pull me toward her, make me start touching her again, but she doesn’t quite have the guts to go for what she wants yet.

I flash her another grin, sly this time. “I can’t wait,” I say. I put the car into park at the mouth of the first dark, empty alleyway I can find, and grab both her hips, drawing her toward me. “I need you. Now.”

She hesitates, but only long enough to undo her seatbelt. And then she’s swinging her free leg across mine, straddling my lap, and I reach up to cup her face between my palms and pull her down into another hard kiss. While she’s distracted, I reach down to undo the clasp on her jeans and push them down past her ass.

She gasps, glancing out and around the car, worried someone will see us. But I just chuckle and hit a button on the dash, making the windows instantly darken around us.

“Relax,” I tell her, eyes alight with amusement. “I don’t plan on sharing every aspect of our marriage with the world.”

She arches an eyebrow, amused. “Just the part where you touch me under the table in the nicest restaurant in the city?”

I scoff. “That hardly counted. I wasn’t about to make you come right there.”

“How do you know?” She tilts her head, frowning.

My smile widens. “Because, my darling, you not only have an incredibly sensitive, tight pussy.” I emphasize this by sliding one palm under her panties and cupping her bare, clean-shaven mound. “But you are so very easy to read, too.” I stroke her with my thumb, in slow circles, just above her clit, which I can already tell is aroused as hell thanks to my touching her earlier in the restaurant. “I know exactly how to get every response I want out of your body, if you let me,” I tell her.

At that, she arches into my palm, her hips twisting as she grinds against me, her breath coming shorter, faster.

I smile and slide my hand back out, making her twist to a halt, her lips still parted with frustration. Her throat works around a hard swallow, as she clearly bites back her instinctive response, to ask me to keep going.

Then she surprises me. She reaches down between us to cup the hard bulge in my jeans, her fingers digging into the seams a little, pressing around me. She shifts her palm back and forth, and I grit my teeth to stop a low, guttural sound from escaping.

The feel of her small hands on my cock only makes me harder. It makes me want to torment her more.