This was her heaven. No denying it. Having her hands pinned, being filled by Dominic, nowhere to go. No way to escape the quickening of her body. She could only spread her legs and absorb the weight of him traveling up and back on top of her. A vessel on the water, cresting the waves and plunging back down. Rising and slamming. Her husband’s hips bucked, his teeth leaving marks on her neck, his thumbs pressing into the insides of her wrists, as if searching for her pulse so he could match it. And she swore he did. As her heartbeat kicked into a sprint, the slap of Dominic’s manhood against her happened in faster succession. Without cease or time to prepare, his flesh tunneled into her again and again, hungry grunts coming from his chest, his mouth. Delivered into her neck, they vibrated through her, and she gloried in the using of her body. In that moment, she was this man’s mate, and he was in need, and it was as simple as that.
“Christ. Oh Christ.” He raked his teeth over her shoulder, his hands frantically gripping her knees and pushing them up to her shoulders, pressing down with his entire muscular frame and sending euphoria coursing through Rosie. “Ten years later and I still can’t believe what a tight little fuck you are. My tight fuck,” he groaned, angling his hips and—
“Ohhh. Yes.” Her vision went black, then sparkly, as the base of his driving erection journeyed over her clit. Her fingers flexed in his grip, back arching. “Dominic, don’t stop. Right there. Please.”
“I got you. I’ve always got you.”
“Please.”
Jaw clenching, he bore down with his lower body, and she screamed, a climax tearing through her like teeth one moment, utter bliss the next. “God. Oh my God. Oh my God!”
His forehead dropped to hers. “Mine. You are mine. You are my fucking life.”
“I’m yours,” she sobbed, moisture leaking from her eyes, body on fire, heart under attack. “Yours, Dominic. Come inside me. Show me who I belong to.”
A choked sound fell from his mouth and his body tensed. Rosie clenched him with her intimate muscles for everything she was worth, moaning at the incredible vision above her. This beautiful man floating on the edges of another plane. One they could only travel to when they touched. His flesh jerked inside her, his mouth falling open, hissing her name, big body trembling enough to shake the bed.
“Rosie. Rosie. Fuuuuuuck. So good, honey. So sweet and tight.” He thrust one more time and fell on top of her, muttering brokenly into her hair, his hips rolling like they couldn’t help it. “Mine. Need my wife. Need her.”
Rosie was already halfway to losing consciousness, the tumult of emotions and physical satisfaction leaving her a pile of mush. The last thing she remembered was Dominic kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her mouth, then turning her onto one side and tucking her into the warmth of his body.
What do we do in the morning?
That was her final thought before everything faded to dark.
Chapter Twenty
Dominic woke up to the sound of his phone vibrating. His eyes cracked open and blinked back closed against the early-morning light. His phone wasn’t on the bedside table of the hotel room, and he resented the idea of getting up to find it, because for the first time in . . . he couldn’t remember how long, his wife was naked and wrapped around him, breathing evenly against his shoulder. His arm was asleep and it could stay that way, for all he cared.
They didn’t do this anymore. Cuddling. Unconscious or conscious. When they touched, it was an explosion of lust. Greedy. When it was over, they went about their regularly scheduled program. Rosie went to shower. Not wanting to admit he needed the comfort and intimacy afterward, Dominic went out to the shed and fixed something or simply went to sleep. They hadn’t gravitated toward each other in the dark and clung like this since those months before he’d been deployed.
How had he survived for years without this?
Rosie hummed drowsily in her sleep and the vibration went through him, tumbling end over end in his stomach. His cock stirred against the soft sheets, and he tucked his hips back, not wanting to wake her up just yet. She was too beautiful like this. There wasn’t a time when she wasn’t, but the trust it took to surrender to his protection in sleep was humbling. That trust had been missing—no way around it now. Rosie might have trusted him to provide, to be faithful, to protect her with his life, but she’d been keeping her heart guarded.
Regret clogged his throat. Why hadn’t he recognized sooner that his contribution to their marriage wasn’t enough? At what point had he forgotten the moments like this? They should have been placed ahead of all others. Holding her in the expensive bed with dawn breaking over the skyscrapers in the distance, he was on the verge of being . . . enough. This was what she needed. Affection. Words. Maybe that was the only answer and he didn’t have to search any further.
His wife rolled closer and snuggled into his side, resting a closed fist in the center of his chest. God almighty. Dominic breathed through his nose and closed his eyes. This was heaven on earth. She was soft and sweet and he never wanted to move. Words. Encouragement. He could learn to give his wife those things on a regular basis and this would be his. Last night was proof that he could earn her trust by letting her fly, by supporting her. By being there to lift her up when she needed it. And she did need it. He’d learned from the mistake of his silence and would never let that need go unfulfilled again.
Dominic reached under the fluffy down comforter and trailed a hand over the curve of her hip, smiling softly when her lips popped open and a breath shook out. Not awake, but definitely getting there. He should wake her up, drive her home, and tell her she’d have the rest of the money for her restaurant soon. It was Saturday and neither of them was working. Maybe he could convince her to test her signature asado dish out on him.
Jesus, last night she’d called herself his out loud. Something had shifted between them. So while his gut was screaming at him to tell Rosie about the house he’d bought in secret—the sale of which would fund her restaurant—the absolute last thing he wanted when they’d just risen from the ashes was to crumble them into dust again. Unable to draw a decent breath around the panic, Dominic buried his nose in her hair and inhaled.
Rosie wanted the restaurant. He would give that to her. He had to.
His conscience spoke from the back of his brain, urging him to wake up his wife and just be honest. Lay everything out there. How much he loved her and wanted to make her happy. How he’d put her restaurant aspirations on the back burner and selfishly pursued the dream he’d thought they shared—a house. How he’d been taught to equate showing emotions with weakness, so he’d pushed her away, instead of keeping his walls down, the way they’d been when he was younger. Before he’d looked around and decided his only offering to Rosie was hard work. Reliability. Instead of confiding in her that he didn’t feel like enough, he’d fallen into the pattern he’d been shown his whole life. Head down, work hard, don’t reveal a single chink in the armor. If he just opened his mouth right here and now, they could walk out of this room with no secrets between them.
Do it.
Or he could never tell her about the house and stay on track. Follow the plan. Fix this.
Needing to get his head straight, Dominic carefully laid Rosie among the pillows and got out of bed, already missing her soft curves against him. Missing her breath, her scent, and her sounds.