Married To Her Ex

by Cantrell, Kat

  Her stiletto dug into his t-shirt and he groaned against her slit. “Be still. Those shoes have been killing me all night.”

  Oh, so she’d gotten into his head too with her sexy outfit and cooking seduction routine. That was lovely. She filed that away for later. “Less talking. More of you, right here.”

  He complied, but teased her with it, wiggling just the tip of his tongue against the place she ached the most. To emphasize the point of what she wanted, she dragged two fingers over her throbbing nub, tangling them with his tongue deliberately. Before she could withdraw, he clamped her wrist and held her fingers in place, licking her through the V as he guided her to touch herself. The duel sensations were so wicked, her vision grayed and she exploded. Ripples of pleasure radiated outward, engulfing her in a whole-body orgasm that was made all the sweeter when he drew it out with hard, repetitive tongue pulses against her sex—just the way he knew she liked it.

  Because he owned her pleasure. Always had, and she was a fool to have resisted the master of seduction.

  But now that he’d taken the edge off, it was her turn.

  Naked except for her heels, she pushed him back and stood, tottering a bit. Oh, God. Her knees were still shaking. It had been a long time since he’d done that so well and so thoroughly.

  Since she wasn’t so steady on her feet anyway, she dropped to her knees and unzipped his jeans. When she released his gorgeous erection into her hand, she met his gaze as she traced her tongue along the head of his shaft.

  His eyebrows quirked as he watched her, his eyes burning like blue coal, but he didn’t react. What, like it didn’t feel good? The man barely had to glance at her to get her hot. It wasn’t fair that he had so much control. It was even more unfair that she couldn’t break it.

  What had happened to getting into his head? Or had telling her to be still been one more way of keeping control over her?

  She swore and sucked him into her mouth, working at him with gusto until he pulled her head free.

  “Enough,” he growled. “I’m not going to come in your mouth. Not tonight.”

  Must be nice to have a choice, she thought darkly. She couldn’t have stopped the orgasm he’d given her at gunpoint.

  He flung off his T-shirt to reveal his perfect abs, shed his jeans and spun her to face the couch, hands to her hips as he ground the length of steel jutting from his body into the groove of soft flesh between her buttocks. “You, however, are going to come again with me inside you. I want to feel you come hard, harder than you just did.”

  She shuddered, clamping down on her sex as it quaked. Dirty talk shouldn’t be so affecting, but God, what about her husband wasn’t?

  A pause. A ripping sound—he must be tearing open the packaging on a condom. Thank God he’d had the presence of mind. Hers was still back on what he planned to do to her to make her come harder than the last time. The heat of his erection disappeared for a moment and then his hot hand hit the back of her knee, drawing it up until she was half-kneeling on the arm of the couch.

  “Hold on,” he commanded and God help her, she gripped the cushion, bracing for that first thrust, throbbing for it despite telling herself she wasn’t impressed with his tactics.

  Finally, his tip nudged her square in the heart of her flooded core. But that was as far as he went. With a sob, she shifted, rolling her hips, seeking the whole of him, aching for it.

  “What do you want, Alexia?” he murmured, holding back deliberately until she gave him what he sought, whatever that happened to be.

  “You.” She shut her eyes as she confessed her deepest longing.

  It wasn’t enough. He teased her some more, circling at her entrance, his hard length sliding against her still-sensitized button. This was part of his game, to tell her to hold on yet hold back in a twisted show of power. And she hated it even as she played along, because she well knew the reward.

  “Just making sure your lights are green.”

  God, how like him to turn this back on her, forcing her to own her acceptance, so there were no recriminations later. She’d have zero room to say she didn’t want this or blame him for seducing her into doing something she wasn’t ready for.

  Yeah, she knew the rewards of being with Jesse, as well as the punishment—like the eternity she’d spent apart from him, cold, lonely, unfulfilled.

  “Jesse, please,” she whispered. “I want you.”

  All at once, he pushed inside and she nearly sobbed as he filled her. So good, so full, so amazing. But she couldn’t see him, and she missed that all at once. He pistoned his hips, slowly, carefully, drawing out her pleasure with measured cadence. It was good. But not good enough.

  Where was the abandon, the inability to hold back? The way they’d been once, unable to keep their hands off of each other, so caught up in being together that they often didn’t make it to the bed.

  She wanted that.

  This was all wrong. She didn’t want a release, she wanted him to want her. He wasn’t the only one who was allowed to set parameters to what they were doing here.

  “Stop.”

  He did, instantly, pulling away so fast that he took a good bit of her composure with him. But then she turned and held out her arms. “This way. Let me see you.”

  Eyes dark with something she couldn’t fathom, he pulled her into his embrace and kissed her. Surprised, she froze for a moment, but yes—this was what she’d been after. Not just sex, but making love. Of course he’d realized that’s what she’d meant because he knew her through and through.

  Instantly, she melted under his talented mouth as he picked her up to lay her out on the couch, then settled between her thighs and gathered her up in his arms to hold her as he pierced her center again. But this time, he engulfed her completely.

  At last, they were joined, body and soul. Relief coursed through her body. Yes, absolute relief, physically and mentally. She craved him, needed him like a sparrow needed the updraft.

  The world righted itself as they unified. All the antagonism and hurt melted away, and her heart swayed as she wrapped her legs around his waist, cradling him inside. They just fit.

  In the circle of his arms, with his length buried to the hilt and touching her very core, the warmth of truth blasted through her. She loved Jesse. Still. Had never fallen out of love with him.

  He knew how to handle her. Expertly. They were made for each other.

  He held her firmly in place against his torso as he began moving with hard, powerful thrusts, and she cried out as he easily wound her up a second time, hitting spots that hadn’t been hit in so very long. The eruption came fast, and it was unbelievable. She fell into the climax, rippling with pleasure and Jesse and love and everything she’d been missing for a long, bleak winter.

  “Jesse,” she breathed and kissed him with all the things inside her. “Now you come for me.”

  Within moments, his dark eyes lost focus with his own release, but it was the only indication. Caught in what should be the apex of ecstasy, he maintained control. Always. She tried not to let it bother her. But it did.

  When she separated from Jesse, she leaned her head against his shoulder. Harmony between them wasn’t easy to come by, but they managed it in that moment. She reveled in it, determined not to dwell on the cost.

  And that’s when she realized the condom had broken. The shimmer from their lovemaking wore off instantly. She wasn’t on birth control pills, not anymore. Why hadn’t she gotten a prescription?

  She could not—absolutely could not—handle another accidental pregnancy. That cost was too high.

  With a sob, she fled blindly, pulling off the shoes she still wore to let them clunk to the floor behind her, not caring where she went as long as it was somewhere he wasn’t.

  Miraculously, she stumbled into the first floor bathroom and fell by the toilet, just raising the lid in time before expelling every bit of pizza and beer.

  The tears, hot and angry, ran down her face, but the grief sat in a tight litt
le ball in her chest. What had she been trying to prove by letting her heart spill open like that? That they were destined to circle the same path again and again?

  She wanted to be a mom. So badly. And it sat just out of reach. Even if Jesse had wanted the baby, her body had betrayed her. And that was perhaps the worst part of it. She might not ever be a mom and might even be forced into reliving the anguish of miscarriage over and over.

  The sink loomed, too high to reach, but she pulled up to it, using the handle on the vanity for support, one hard-fought inch at a time. She rinsed her mouth out, avoided the mirror, then lay back down on the plush throw rug and closed her eyes.

  Jesse’s expression—not the one from today, but the one from right before he walked out on their marriage—haunted her. The miscarriage still festered under the surface of their relationship, poisoning any chance for a real reconciliation. If she got pregnant again, she already knew the outcome. Jesse would leave her.

  She couldn’t even have sex with her husband for fear of what the repercussions would be. They had to address this huge disconnect or be done forever.

  A hand in her hair announced Jesse’s presence. Just once, it might be nice if he moved like an elephant, so she’d be prepared. His fingers drifted along her scalp, and she jerked away from the token comfort. His weight settled onto the rug, but he didn’t touch her again.

  “Alexia. You wanted that. Don’t make this deal harder than it has to be.”

  This had become so much more than about the patent or the dates. Now her heart was on the line, and she was an idiot for thinking she could keep her emotions out of it.

  She rolled over and sat up.

  With mussed hair, heavy eyes, and T-shirt off center on his broad shoulders, he screamed sex. She wished she could hate him, but she hated herself too much for there to be anything left over.

  “This is miles from the deal I agreed to.” Her voice broke, and she swallowed to beat back the tears. “I can’t do this. I can’t—”

  “Can’t what?” The starkness of his tone almost unleashed more tears by itself. “Can’t handle that you still want me?”

  Among other things. She’d wanted so desperately for things to go back to the way they’d been before. She saw that now. Altering the deal and insisting they spend time together—not to mention putting sex on the menu—had been a poorly-thought-out excuse to try to recapture something that was gone forever.

  It had never been about unearthing his real agenda. If anything, he’d uncovered hers.

  The floor grew hard against her still-sensitive skin, and she leaped up. “The condom broke! That’s what I can’t handle.”

  Chapter 8

  Alexia started to back out of the bathroom, but Jesse wasn’t finished here. Not even close.

  Not with her scent still fresh on his skin and the glow from her beautiful climax flushing across the damp expanse of her neck. He got hard again thinking about it.

  He leaped to his feet and pulled her back inside. One hip hit the door and slammed it shut. He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame so she couldn’t flee.

  The evening had deteriorated so fast his head hurt. “Where were we?”

  Alexia’s eyes went glassy and she blanched. “Move.”

  “No. This evening is about reconnecting. Not running away.”

  Any progress they might have gained had slid away with the busted condom. He got that. Another unplanned pregnancy might be the straw that broke their marriage.

  But he couldn’t let her go. Not with so much unsaid. Not when he had no idea how to say the things that needed to be said. They had to fix this, had to, and he wasn’t going to quit until that happened.

  Unsteadily, she peered up at him, then swayed but snapped upright.

  “Right. Running away is your gig,” she mumbled.

  He acknowledged the point with a nod. “But not this time.”

  That wasn’t who he wanted to be, the guy who’d given up. What was this, but an opportunity to do it better, to be what she needed? If she’d stop looking for problems, and give him a chance, maybe he could figure out how to do that.

  She glared at him. “Are you brain dead? Let me out. I don’t want to talk to you, not after the—”

  Suddenly, she swayed again, cutting off whatever else she’d been about to say.

  Alarmed now, he zeroed in on her chalky face. Alexia was so upset about the broken condom her legs shook. One knee buckled, nearly pitching her to the floor. He twisted her into his arms and pinned her against his chest, half for support and half for comfort. She struggled, rotating her shoulders to break his hold. Tremors racked her entire body. There was no way he was letting her go, not until she calmed down.

  “It’s okay,” he said. Only a whisper, but it worked. She stilled. Her throbbing heart beat against his forearm.

  “It’s not okay. I can’t go through another pregnancy with you.”

  “It’ll be okay. We’ll deal with it.”

  “How will we ‘deal’ with it? Cross your fingers for another miscarriage, like you did the first time?” she snapped, breathing shallowly, but trying to hide it.

  “Is that what you—” Shock pulled the words out of his mouth. His arms tightened involuntarily as he processed that. “You thought I was hoping you’d miscarry?”

  She gulped and rolled her neck. Whispers of her silky hair brushed across his arm. “You were never secretive about not wanting children.”

  “Not wanting children and hoping one dies are two entirely different things!” he bit out.

  He almost shoved away from her, from all the blackness riding shotgun in his chest, but he didn’t want her to fall. After all the effort he’d put into accepting the cold hard truth—Alexia was pregnant, and he was going to be a father whether he was ready or not—the miscarriage had only confused everything further.

  No, he didn’t want kids.

  Outlaw needed his full attention, and kids took up time, energy. His dad had always been so drained after working all day and then coming home to eight kids. Jesse had vowed to never do that to his own child. And besides, what did he know about being a dad? He was too selfish and unable to compromise his business for the sake of a family who would need attention he couldn’t give them.

  She knew all this but had twisted it in her mind to cast him as a villain unfairly, then decided to get pregnant on purpose, forcing him to begin accepting the idea. They’d soon have a baby. His baby.

  And then it was gone. He’d lost his unborn child, his wife, and his sanity all at once.

  His temper flared into a slow boil. He shoved it back and breathed deeply.

  It was old news. But that didn’t seem to stop him from a perverse need to rehash it. “I wasn’t hoping you’d lose the baby. But it wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you hadn’t pulled your little stunt.”

  God, even now he was still so angry at her for taking away his choice. It was completely unfair to discount what they’d agreed to before he’d ever married her. But he’d thought he could forgive her or they wouldn’t be here.

  Looked like he still needed a little time to work through that one.

  “I refuse to dignify paranoia with a response.”

  Like always, she wasn’t even going to bother denying she’d stopped taking her pills. The real mystery was why he tried to get her to admit it. No, that was a lie. If she’d just admit it, that might be the key to forgiving her. And he wanted to. After all, there wasn’t a baby anymore, so the damage wasn’t as great as it might have been.

  She shoved against the circle of his arms, and he let go. As she sprang away, one hand hit the picture on the wall, sending it crashing to the ground.

  Throwing the door wide, she guzzled air in huge, noisy gulps. Not the actions of someone upset about a conversation, and way too similar to the scene outside the media room after she’d first arrived.

  The first little tickle of unease filtered through his chest. “What’s wrong?”

&nb
sp; “Nothing.” She clamped her lips together and held her breath.

  “I’m not falling for that. I can tell something’s off. Other than you standing there buck naked.” She didn’t smile at his joke and genuine concern replaced the unease.

  “I can’t breathe. Leave me alone.”

  Not being able to breathe wasn’t a symptom of being pissed off. He reached out and tilted her chin a touch to let the light shine at a better angle. “Your pupils are like dinner plates.”

  She jerked away from his fingers and wrapped both arms around her bare torso, then squatted and poked her head between her legs.

  This had gone on long enough, and he hated whatever she was going through.

  He knelt, and with a tug pulled her back into his arms and rocked, like he’d done the first time. And the second time, during the storm. She settled into him, fitting into his lap so beautifully that he almost lost track of what he was doing.

  But then she started shivering as if he’d pulled her from a freezing pond. Yanking a folded towel from the fancy cabinet across from him, he draped it over her body. He murmured to her, babbling about whatever came to mind, stroking and patting her shoulders, then tangling his fingers in her hair when she didn’t respond.

  Helplessness weighed down, pressing on his shoulders.

  “What’s happening to you?” he murmured, suddenly afraid of the answer. This wasn’t a run-of-the-mill cryfest over a broken condom.

  “Not sure,” she croaked. “I guess I stood up too fast.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Standing up too fast doesn’t make you short of breath and in danger of passing out.” He eyed her. “Your legs were shaking. Start talking. What is it?”

  With a palm to her forehead, hiding her eyes, she whispered, “Panic attack.”

  Panic attack? When had she started having panic attacks?

  And how was he supposed to fix that? A physical malady could be easily healed by taking her to the hospital and ordering tests or surgery. But this…it was all in her head, a mystical, off-limits place he’d never understood.

  “What does that mean? How does it work? How does a broken condom make you react like that, like you can’t even stand? Just stop worrying about it.”