Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(83)
At first, he keeps his thrusts lazy, but it’s been too long since we did this, and soon it’s a frantic coupling, the mattress squeaking, the headboard banging against the wall. We hump together, our hands everywhere and our bodies rubbing, and I feel the first tingling.
“I’m so close,” I gasp, and he groans.
“Me too.”
He grabs my hands, forcing them up and over my head as he lies fully on me. His stomach rubs against my cock and I moan plaintively, goosebumps rising on my skin.
“Okay?” he grunts.
“Yes, don’t stop.”
He rams into me, his body heaving over mine, and I clutch his fingers tightly. He goes to move back, and I know he’s going to grab my cock, but I clutch his hands and wind my legs tighter around him. “Don’t stop,” I pant again, my focus turning inward as his thrusts constantly graze my prostate.
Finally, everything tightens, and I strain towards the end. It’s just out of my reach, and I moan, but then he leans down and buries his face in my neck, biting down on my shoulder, and that’s enough for me. Sparks fly behind my eyes as I grunt and start to come.
He groans and there’s a flood of warmth inside me as he comes. We collapse into each other and after a moment, his come begins to seep out of me, running hot and sticky down my thighs.
“I want to see,” he whispers, and I shudder as he pulls gently out of me. I hate this part, and I moan at the emptiness. But, showing his usual understanding, he instantly pushes two fingers into me, and I sigh with relief.
“God, that’s so fucking hot,” he whispers. “My come is leaking out of you.”
My cock gives a funny little kick at the heat in his words, but it’s false advertising. I couldn’t come after that orgasm if my life depended on it. I feel drained dry. He lies beside me, his hand still between my legs, and kisses me deeply. When he pulls back, I’m curiously shy, and I have a feeling he’s the same.
“Lachie,” I say.
He closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them, his expression is hard to read. Tiredness rushes through me. It’s been a long day, and I yawn, my body sinking into the mattress.
“I should go back down,” I mutter, my eyes sliding shut.
“You’re staying right here,” he says immediately. “I have something to tell you.”
“Really?” I fight to keep my eyes open but give up. He says something else, but I don’t hear him. Instead, I slide into sleep with his fingers still inside me and the firelight flickering on the walls. The wind roars outside, but in here, I’m safe. It’s my last thought before I go under.
I come awake slowly, feeling warm and snug. When I move, there’s a satisfactory soreness in my arse. Lachlan’s arm tightens, but then he sighs and goes back to sleep, his soft breathing ruffling my hair.
The lamp is on, so the power must have come back on at some point in the night.
I stare at the window. The snow is piled high on the balcony, but the sky is a cornflower blue. There’s a flash of colour and the robin appears on the railing. He cocks his head and looks at me and I wonder what he sees. Two lovers lying entwined on the bed. I suppose anyone looking at us would see us and think we are in love. I stiffen.
It’s time I acknowledged it. I’m in love with my husband. Desperately in love, and I never stopped. Even through the anger and pain, I never fell out of love with him, and that is the reason I still wear a wedding ring and why I never slept with anyone else.
But he signed our divorce papers two days ago. Forty-eight hours ago, we were done with no way back. Can I trust the change I feel in us here, or will it disappear as soon as we go back to reality? Maybe this is the marital equivalent of a holiday romance. The same differences between us are still there waiting to trip us up again. And the idea of it going wrong again terrifies me. I was so desolate, so broken when we finished. I honestly don’t know if I have the strength to go through it again.
The alternative is to go our separate ways but the mere thought of that makes me want to howl. The last few days have been a glimpse of what could have been between us if we hadn’t fucked around. It’s impossible to resist Lachie when he’s in full-on conquer mode. I guess I shouldn’t have slept with him last night, but I’d wanted him desperately and I’ll never be sad to have that last memory.
I sigh, my toes curling with embarrassment at how needy I was.
“That was a deep sigh.”
I jump at Lachlan’s sleep-rough voice behind me. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Yes, your very immobility is a warning sign to me. It foretells crazy plans and schemes.” He grabs me gently and rolls me over. He gazes down at me, his dark hair floating over his forehead. His eyes are shuttered, but I think I see anxiety. “Do you regret last night?”
“No, of course not.”
My reply is fast and sure, and he sags a little. “Then what’s the matter?”
I give a nervous laugh. “I guess I was wondering what happens next.” I hold my hand up as he opens his mouth. “No, never mind. That sounded desperately needy. Shall we go and get breakfast? I mean should we go downstairs where you will have to cook the breakfast yourself?”
He puts his hand over my mouth. “Stop,” he says. The wild tenderness in his eyes stills me. He removes his hand and sits up. He looks suddenly nervous. “How about we throw away the divorce papers and see each other when we get back to London?”