A Wife for One Year

by Brenda Harlen

  Daniel could be the partner who made her feel safe enough to exorcise those old demons. And if she could learn to enjoy true physical intimacy, to fully and freely participate in the act of lovemaking, maybe she would be able to open up her heart and actually fall in love. And then she could finally put her past in the past and move forward with her life.

  Which meant that she had to figure out how to seduce her husband.

  * * *

  It wasn’t until Daniel got out of the shower that he realized he had nothing to put on. But Kenna had seen him in a towel before, and while this one wasn’t oversize like the ones he had in his bathroom at home, he figured it covered him adequately enough for the brief trek back into the bedroom to dig some clothes out of his bag.

  Of course, that was before his sexy wife decided to start a dialogue—and while she was still wearing his old T-shirt and those satin boxer shorts.

  “About last night—”

  He didn’t know where that introduction was going to lead, but the last thing he wanted was to talk about sex they weren’t having.

  “You were right to put on the brakes,” he interjected. “I was out of line and I promise it won’t happen again.”

  He figured that was what she wanted him to say, that she wanted him to take the responsibility and the blame. But she nibbled on her lower lip, seeming more confused than relieved by his assurance.

  “You changed your mind...about wanting to have...sex?”

  And how the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

  He could say, “Yes, I changed my mind,” except that was a blatant lie. Or he could say, “I’m a guy—we always want sex,” and while that might be closer to the truth, he didn’t imagine she would find it reassuring. He decided to aim for something closer to middle ground.

  “I agree that intimacy between us could create more problems than it solves.”

  “So...you’re okay with the ‘no sex for a year’ thing?”

  “Okay might be a stretch,” he admitted. “But I think I can manage to resist the temptation.” Of course, it would be a lot easier to resist the temptation if she’d put some clothes on.

  “Why do I feel both reassured and insulted?”

  He managed a smile in response to her dry tone. “I’m just agreeing that sex would change things.”

  “I want to change things.”

  Though her gaze was steady, he heard the waver in her voice. He thought he understood now what she was trying to say, and he hated to think that he’d pressured her. “Kenna, I don’t expect—”

  The rest of the words stuck in his throat when she reached for the hem of her shirt and began to inch it upward.

  His jaw fell open as the fabric rose to reveal a narrow swath of pale skin. The hem inched higher, that narrow swath grew wider, and his body was suddenly paying very close and careful attention. His avid gaze followed the rising shirt, to the bottom of her rib cage, to the gently curved undersides of her breasts.

  “What—” He swallowed. “What are you doing?”

  She tugged the garment over her head and tossed it aside. “I’m trying to tell you that I want to have sex.”

  “Kenna...”

  She hooked her fingers into the waistband of those little shorts, slid them slowly over her hips, then let them fall to the floor. “Yes?”

  His eyes raked over her, boldly, hungrily, from the tips of her crimson-painted toenails, up those endlessly long legs to the delicate triangle of pale curls at the apex of her thighs, over the slight flare of her hips, the indent of her waist, the long narrow torso, the luscious curve of her breasts—plump and round and centered with tight pink nipples.

  He scrambled to hold on to some semblance of reason, not an easy task when all of the blood had drained out of his head and migrated south. And then he met her gaze, and it was her eyes—the fears and uncertainties swirling in the blue depths—that completely undid him.

  What was she afraid of?

  Did she really think that he would reject her?

  That he could?

  * * *

  Kenna held her breath, silently praying that he would make the next move.

  She’d laid herself bare—literally—and he was just standing there with a shell-shocked expression on his face.

  Obviously she’d surprised him. She’d surprised herself, too. But once she set a course, she rarely deviated from it, and sex with Daniel was her ultimate destination.

  But if it was going to happen, she really needed him to cooperate.

  She didn’t know the first thing about seducing a man. She’d read extensively on any number of subjects, including sex, but right now, she couldn’t seem to recall any of the information she’d absorbed from documented studies or scientific research. What had inexplicably come to mind was a quote from an article in a magazine that she’d thumbed through in the staff room after confiscating it from one of her students. Women worry about how they look naked—whether their hips are too wide or their breasts are too small. Men just care about the naked part.

  She had no idea if it was a universal truth or one man’s personal opinion, but she was gratified to realize that “the naked part” seemed to have affected Daniel. His body’s response to her awkward striptease wasn’t hidden by the towel slung around his hips, and the obvious evidence of his arousal bolstered her confidence and calmed her nerves.

  Then she looked into his eyes, and the blatant heat and intense longing in his gaze nearly made her knees buckle.

  Everything Daniel did, he did with focus and intensity. She had no doubt that he would be an attentive and ardent lover, that she would enjoy an experience beyond anything she’d ever imagined. But what if she disappointed him?

  Nerves and doubts swirled anew. Then he took a step forward and laid a hand on her cheek. Despite the gentleness of his touch, she felt the tension in him, desire tightly leashed.

  “You need to be sure,” he told her.

  Though she wasn’t nearly as confident as she wanted to be, she had no doubts about what she wanted. “I’m sure.”

  She curled her fingers around his wrist and guided his hand from her cheek...to her breast.

  A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he held her gaze as his thumb brushed over her already peaked nipple. A fiery jolt speared from her breast to her belly, causing the breath to shudder out of her lungs.

  The fire in his eyes blazed impossibly brighter, eliminating any doubts about his desire for her. He lifted his other hand to her other breast, brushed that thumb over that nipple, inciting another fiery jolt.

  She wanted to savor every moment of this experience—to bask in the glory of making love with Daniel. She wanted to remember every touch, every taste, every insignificant little detail of the most significant experience in her life and seal them in her mind forever.

  But when he touched her...she couldn’t think. There was no time to absorb, no room for reason, there was only sensation upon sensation, exquisitely layered and infinitely complex.

  She gave up trying to think or plan and let her instincts guide her. She wanted to touch him as he was touching her, to please him as he was pleasing her. She didn’t let her inexperience hold her back, and she didn’t let herself think about the women he’d been with before her, women with undoubtedly more practice and skill than she. Because she was the one who was here with him now; she was the one he wanted now. The realization was both liberating and empowering.

  She slid her hands up his chest, desperate to feel his skin beneath her palms. And...mmm. Those muscles were as hard as they looked. She kissed his chest, breathed in the fresh-from-the-shower scent of him and felt her head spin with giddy excitement that this was really happening.

  He shifted closer, so she could feel the press of his erection against her belly. She slid a hand between them
, tugged at the towel slung around his hips and let it fall to the floor so that he was as naked as she. She reached for him, gasping with surprise—and maybe just a little bit of fear—at the size and strength of him. He caught her wrist when her hand dropped away and brought it back, wordlessly encouraging her exploration. She wrapped her fingers around him, tentatively gliding them up and down the smooth velvety skin, and was rewarded by a low moan that rumbled deep in his chest.

  “You like that?”

  “Yeah, I like that.”

  She stroked him again, and was rewarded with another rumbling moan.

  “I like when you touch me—and I like touching you.” His hands skimmed over her now, from her breasts to her hips and slowly back again. “You’re perfect. Soft and warm and feminine.”

  She wasn’t perfect. She wasn’t even close. But the way he touched her, the gentle reverence of his hands and his lips as they caressed her, assured her that she was cherished, and that was enough. Then he lowered his head and swirled his tongue around the peak of one nipple—once, twice, before pulling it into his mouth and suckling deeply. And she knew that she was also desired every bit as much as she desired.

  “And I love those sexy sounds you make when I touch you,” he told her.

  His hands moved from her breasts to her back, skimmed down her torso to her bottom. Then he cupped her buttocks and lifted her against him.

  She was surprised by the move—and his strength—but instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping in shock and pleasure as this movement positioned him at the juncture of her thighs.

  In two quick strides, he’d carried her to the bed and tumbled with her onto the mattress. And then he was kissing her. Deeply. Desperately. His tongue swept between her lips, stroked the inside of her mouth, made her shiver. His hands slid up her torso, tracing her curves, making her yearn. Every touch of his hands and brush of his lips made her ache and burn. She’d never felt so much, wanted so much. The onslaught of sensation was overwhelming, terrifying, exhilarating.

  She felt a delicious tension building deep inside as he continued to kiss and touch, to taste and tease. She was pinned to the bed, and gloried in the weight of his naked body on hers. But she didn’t just want him against her. She wanted him inside her, and she instinctively rocked her hips, creating a delicious friction as his hard length rubbed against her.

  She was close to her release. Daniel could feel it in the tension in her body, hear it in her breathing. She was also pushing him dangerously close to his own.

  He clamped his hands on her hips, holding her immobile while he desperately tried to catch his breath and not erupt like the teenager he’d been when he’d first fantasized about making love with her. A lot of years had passed since then, and he was determined to give her pleasure before he took his own. Her surprised responses and hesitant touches confirmed that she wasn’t nearly as experienced as he, and he wanted to ensure that she enjoyed every single minute of their lovemaking.

  “What—” She blinked, trying to focus eyes that were dark and dazed by desire. He had a pretty good idea how she was feeling. “Why?”

  “Condom,” he said.

  “Oh.” She blew out an unsteady breath. “Right.”

  “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

  “Hurry.”

  He might have smiled at the urgency in her tone if he hadn’t felt exactly the same way. It took him about three seconds to find what he needed in his toiletry bag, another four seconds to tear open the package and sheath himself. Those seven seconds seemed like an eternity.

  Then he was kneeling on the mattress, parting her thighs. She opened willingly for him. His heart hammered against his ribs, banging a desperate rhythm that drowned out everything but his need for her. He braced his weight on his arms as he rose over her.

  “I have to be inside you,” he said. “Now.”

  “Yes,” she panted her agreement. “Please.”

  Despite her obvious readiness, their joining wasn’t easy. She was tight—a lot tighter than he’d expected. And he thought there was a moment, just an instant, of resistance. But he barely had a chance to wonder about it before she was lifting her legs to wrap them around him, pulling him deeper inside.

  He started to move, slowly at first, desperately trying to regain the control that was sliding like a slippery thread out of his grasp. But it had been a really long time, and she was so incredibly and passionately responsive.

  She let him set the pace but met him thrust for thrust, matching his rhythm as easily as if they’d done this a thousand times before. He’d never felt so perfectly matched with a partner, so completely connected. It might have worried him a little, if it hadn’t felt so incredibly and undeniably right.

  It was a long time later before he managed to lift himself off her. She murmured a half-hearted protest, then sighed contentedly when he wrapped his arm around her and tugged her close to his side.

  His heart was still pounding and every muscle in his body was lax. No experience had ever left him feeling so completely drained, or so completely fulfilled.

  He pried open an eyelid to peek at Kenna. Her pale, silky hair was spread out over the pillow, her eyes were closed and her lips were curved. The sheets had all been shoved down to the foot of the bed, leaving her completely and blissfully naked, and she didn’t seem to care.

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed that they still had another couple of hours before checkout, and as his mind considered various ways to fill that time, his body started to stir again.

  He pulled up the sheet—not because he wanted to cover up her nakedness but because he didn’t want her to get cold—and brushed a quick kiss on her lips. Then he eased out of bed to dispose of the used condom—and maybe retrieve another one.

  When he walked into the bathroom and turned on the light, his head was still swimming with euphoria so that it took him a minute to put the pieces together. The tightness, the resistance, the blood on the condom.

  He returned to the bedroom, no longer feeling relaxed or satisfied but absolutely furious.

  “You were a virgin.”

  Chapter Nine

  Kenna winced at the accusation in Daniel’s tone.

  She eased herself into a sitting position and pulled the sheet up over her breasts. Although his words had been more of a statement than a question, he seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, so she nodded.

  “Goddammit.” His eyes were blazing again, but this time with fury rather than passion. “How could you not tell me something like that?”

  Her fingers tightened on the sheet. “Because I didn’t want you to make a big deal out of it.”

  “Except that it is a pretty big frickin’ deal.” He stalked across the room, shaking his head. “You’re twenty-six years old—how the hell is it possible that you’ve never...”

  When his rant trailed off, she knew that he’d remembered. And when he looked at her, the righteous fury in his eyes had been supplanted by sympathy and apology.

  She preferred the fury.

  “Don’t,” she said, before he could say anything else.

  “Don’t what?”

  She lifted her chin. “Don’t you dare feel sorry for me because of what happened that day.”

  He went to his suitcase and yanked out his clothes. He seemed unconcerned about his nakedness, but despite the recent joining of their bodies, watching him dress seemed incredibly intimate to Kenna.

  When his shirt was tucked in and his pants done up, he walked back toward the bed. “Are you saying that almost being raped when you were fifteen had nothing to do with the fact that you were still a virgin more than ten years later?”

  “I’m saying that what happened back then had too much of an impact on my life for too long,” she told him.

  For a
lot of years she’d been not just afraid of intimacy but ashamed of her body. The lingerie that she now favored was a deliberate choice that she’d made for herself, because it made her feel pretty and feminine, even if no one else ever saw it.

  “Yes, almost being raped messed up something inside me,” she continued, “so that whenever anyone got too close or tried to touch me intimately, I froze up. And yes, a lot of guys got frustrated because I couldn’t respond appropriately to their kissing and groping. So forgive me for not wanting to ruin a moment of long-overdue physical pleasure by telling you that it was my first time.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean—you froze up?”

  She dropped her gaze. She really didn’t want to talk to him about this, but maybe she did owe him an explanation. “I mean that I’d suddenly feel cold all over, unable to respond, even if I wanted to.”

  “That didn’t happen with me,” he said, though she heard the note of doubt creep into his voice and knew he was worried she might have given some subtle signal that he’d failed to recognize.

  “No,” she confirmed. “It didn’t happen with you.”

  But he still didn’t look totally convinced.

  “Maybe it was a trust thing,” she admitted. “Maybe I didn’t know any of those other guys well enough to let myself be intimate with them. Maybe it was easier for me to relax with you because I know you, and I know you would never hurt me.”

  He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress. “I must have hurt you,” he said, his tone apologetic. “I certainly wasn’t gentle.”

  “You were exactly what I needed you to be,” she told him.

  “You should have told me. If I’d known—”

  “If you’d known, you wouldn’t have touched me.”

  “You’re probably right,” he admitted. “Are you sure you’re...okay?”