Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(81)

“What do you mean?” Melissa asks, her combative air fading.

“Well, that’s another part of my knowledge, dear. Let’s see. What do the words ‘Room four at the Excelsior’ mean to you?”

“Shit,” she mutters.

We’re all leaning over the table so far now we’re nearly in their laps, but Melissa and David continue to ignore us. “Oh yes,” he says. “Every Monday in room number four with Ben from the Accounts department. For the last year.” He looks her up and down. “You always did like a routine, darling.”

At this point, the game ends when Melissa upends the table and starts screaming at David.

“We did win, though,” I say, watching Ryan and Noah separate the warring couple. “Surely that should be more celebrated?”

“I can think of a better way to celebrate,” Lachlan says. His voice is husky, and the rest of the room dies away as we stare at each other. “What do you say?”

I swallow hard, my pulse suddenly racing. “Why now, when you’ve held off all this time?” I whisper.

He shrugs. “Because I can’t resist you anymore. I have never been able to resist you.” His words are rueful, but his eyes are full of wicked temptation, and I go under without a second thought.

I’ve been so lonely without him. I can finally acknowledge it.

And, of course, I want him desperately, and this might be our only chance to be together before we once more separate.

I lean closer, watching his eyes dilate. “I say that I really fucking like games night.”





Chapter

Eighteen





Joe



We burst into the bedroom, kissing frantically with our hands all over each other.

“I want you so badly,” he gasps, pulling away to strip his shirt off. He throws it over his shoulder, and there’s a distant crash, but both of us ignore it as I run my hands greedily over his torso.

“You have lost weight,” I say, punctuating my words with kisses to his wide, hair-roughened chest.

“I’m not… not hungry. Oh god, do that again,” he says as I lick and suck his nipple.

I oblige, feeling his hands on my head, keeping my face pressed to him. I can smell his cologne and a slight trace of sweat, and my heart hurts at the pleasure-pain of being this close to him again.

I only pull away when he pulls my shirt over my head. His hands are immediately back on me as if he can’t bear to be parted from my skin.

The whole thing has an air of obvious desperation and need, and it’s more erotic than anything I’ve ever experienced.

He goes to kiss me and then pulls back as there’s a pop, and all the lights suddenly go out.

“What happened?” I say, looking around blearily and then groaning as he kisses the place where my neck meets my shoulder. It’s a hotspot for me, and he obviously remembers that as he bites down on it. “Oh fuck,” I gasp. The room is lit only by the fire, but I can see his eyes flaring hotter than the coals.

“The electricity went off.” He fumbles between us for my jean buttons, and I do the same to him, so consequently, we’re a tangle of hands and fingers. In the end, he puts me back. “Do your own,” he says hoarsely. “Strip.” Then he forgets the order because he pulls me close and kisses me, pushing his tongue into my mouth and giving little groans.

I grab his brawny shoulders, dig my fingers into the skin, and struggle to get closer to him. I need to be closer.

When air becomes necessary, we step apart and strip, our eyes hot as we gaze at each other’s bodies. As soon as the last item of clothing hits the floor, he pushes me onto the bed.

“Joe,” he says, staring down at me. “Joe,” he says again, and the marvelling note in his voice makes my eyes hot.

“Come here,” I say huskily. “I need you.”

He lies over me immediately, and we both groan at the beauty of our two bodies together.

“I missed you so much,” he says between kisses. “So fucking much. I dreamt of you every night.”

“Me too,” I gasp, grabbing his hips and winding my legs around him. Our cocks slide together, precome making the glide sublime. “Come inside me.”

“Yes,” he says frantically. “I need to be in you.” He pulls back, and I groan in protest.

“No. Where are you going?”

“To get the lube out of my case.”

I struggle up on my elbows, watching as he crouches to fling open his case and paws through a pocket. The wind blows against the window, and the fire roars, sending flickering light over the lines and planes of his muscled body. He looks like a god come down to earth.

Then a horrible thought occurs to me. “You packed lube to come here?” He looks up, and I grimace. “Sorry. You’re a free agent. Of course, you had lube. Ignore me.” I hold out my arms to him and stare as he stays still, staring at me. “Lachlan?”

He shakes his head. “It’s been there since we married and took that last trip to Bruges. I swear I haven’t been with another man, Joe.” His eyes are glittering. “You do believe me, don’t you?”

“I believe you, but you could have slept with a football team, and you wouldn’t have been in the wrong.”