A Husband's Regret (The Unwanted Series) (7 page)

She had awakened in his arms. Bronwyn smiled in contentment and snuggled closer. His strong arms tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head almost reverently. They had been seeing each other for only a month but the chemistry between them had been so potent that it had not taken much for Bronwyn to forget all her grandmother’s warnings about men and their “salacious appetites.” In fact she thought she had been particularly strong in not giving in much sooner; Bryce was a
very
persuasive kisser, and tonight it hadn’t taken much for them to fall into bed together. It had been her first time, and Bryce had been a little shocked at the discovery. He had been excruciatingly gentle and incredibly thorough in making sure that she was completely satisfied. He hadn't left an inch of her body unexplored. Now she was limp, sated, and wondering when they would be able to do it again. She moved her thigh experimentally but still found him disappointingly unprepared for a second round.

“Give me a second,” he groaned. “You wore me out, damn it. I need to regain my strength!”

“You just can’t keep up with me, can you?” She purred teasingly and he growled before flipping her onto her back, pinning her down, and kissing her thoroughly. She felt him stir against her and grinned against his lips.

“Now that’s more like it,” she murmured encouragingly, and he grinned, lifting his head to look down at her. The grin faded abruptly and his eyes went silver with desire and something deeper, something so achingly tender it made Bronwyn’s heart melt.

“I can’t remember my life before you,” he said wonderingly. “I can’t remember
me
without
you
. I never want to let you go. Tell me you’ll marry me . . . please?”

“Bryce?” she whispered uncertainly.

“Bronwyn Kirkland, will you marry me?” he asked almost desperately. She was so overwhelmed by his words that she could do nothing but nod.

“Yes,
yes
, Bryce, I love you so much,” she managed to whisper, her voice thick with tears of joy.

“Shhh . . . don’t cry . . .” he soothed as he slid gently into her welcoming body. “No more tears. We’re going to be so happy together.”

She awoke in his arms, feeling both warm and protected. Bronwyn felt a dizzying sense of déjà vu as she struggled to find her bearings. She couldn’t believe that she had fallen asleep after the emotional turmoil at dinner—she had been so certain that her tumultuous thoughts would keep her awake. She had her face pressed to his chest and she could feel his heart beating steadily beneath her cheek.

“Bryce?” she whispered tentatively, not sure where her dreams ended and real life began. Maybe she was just now waking up after their first time together and everything in between had been nothing but a vivid dream. He didn’t stir and she moved restlessly against him, feeling his arms tighten possessively around her. His large hands started stroking her back leisurely and she burrowed closer, reveling in the comfort and not quite ready to relinquish it yet. She still wasn’t certain if this was a dream or real, but she didn’t care anymore; she was in Bryce’s arms exactly where she belonged.

His warm hands crept beneath the thin cotton blouse she was wearing until his dry palms found the soft, naked skin of her slender back. She sucked in a breath at the electrifying contact and arched toward him with a slight moan. It felt like
forever
since he had touched her last. Her hands crept up over his broad chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the thin material of his T-shirt. She looked up, trying to see his face in the dark, but she could see nothing except the gleam of his eyes.

“Bryce . . .” she murmured dreamily, half-asleep and still lost in the memory of her dream. She lifted a hand to his face. She loved the feel of his stubbled jaw beneath her hand. He made a slight sound and abruptly lowered his head to capture her soft, surprised lips with his hard and demanding mouth. The kiss was a lot more ruthless than she had anticipated; she had been expecting gentleness, not this almost violent caress. Still it was
Bryce
, her beloved Bryce, and she would deny him nothing. His kiss softened and became almost desperate as he leaned into her and over her, until she was flat on her back and he was cradled between her spread thighs. He loomed above her, not once relinquishing contact with her soft mouth, and she moaned as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, not wanting to let him go
ever
again.

He eventually came up for air and fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, while she tugged at his T-shirt and dragged it over his head before he had managed even half of the buttons. Losing patience, he ripped the fragile garment apart, sending mother-of-pearl buttons flying everywhere. Bronwyn giggled and Bryce stilled abruptly.

“I’ve missed your laughter . . .” The sound of his sexy, smoky voice startled her into complete wakefulness. “I always loved your laugh.” He sounded so wistful that Bronwyn wished she could see his face. She raised a curious hand to his mouth but he leaned back, denying her the contact.

“Bryce what . . .” she started to say, but he cursed softly before leaning to the side and switching on the bedside lamp. The unwelcome present immediately forced its way into the bedroom as Bronwyn found herself staring up into the rough-hewn features of an older, harsher Bryce than the one she’d just dreamed about. This was not the man she had fallen in love with; this man was battle scarred and hated her more than she had ever believed possible.

“I want to see you,” he muttered harshly. “When you speak, I want to know what you’re saying! When you laugh, I want to see your eyes light up, and when I make you come”—his voice lowered sexily—“I want to see you scream even if I can’t hear it.”

“I don’t think . . .” she began uncertainly, preferring to make love with him in the dark, where she could fool herself into believing that he was the old Bryce, the one who had pretended to love her, even if he now claimed that he never had. A shaft of agony pierced through her as she recalled his confession at dinner, and she tried to move away from him but he would not permit it. He pinned her down, his eyes boring into hers, so that she was unable to hide her pain from him. His brows lowered into an intimidating frown, and she flinched, wondering what scathing remark he had in store for her this time.

“You were crying at dinner,” he said almost accusingly.

“What do you expect?” she asked bitterly. “You can’t keep cutting me without spilling my blood, Bryce.”

“Such drama.” He grinned caustically. “Don’t cry again, it irritates me!” The demand was so ridiculously petulant that she gaped at him in astonishment. He took advantage of her open mouth and swooped in for another hungry kiss.

“I want you,” he groaned, grinding against her so that she would have no trouble mistaking his meaning. “I want to make love with you.” He raised his head to look down at her, trying to gauge her receptiveness.

“Only it’s not ‘making love,’ is it?” she asked bitterly. “Without love it’s nothing more than a cheap screw.” He made a dismayed little sound and covered her mouth with his own before she could say anything more. Bronwyn soon forgot everything as his mouth wove a seductive spell over her. His wicked fingers seemed to be everywhere at the same time, and his mouth soon followed.

He paused when he reached her braless breasts and he stared at them for a long moment. Bronwyn squirmed uncomfortably as she fought the desire to fold her arms over her petite assets. She had always been self-conscious about her small breasts, but Bryce had always loved them. Now he was staring at them almost analytically, and she found herself flushing to the roots of her hair.

“They haven’t changed,” he murmured, almost reluctantly raising his eyes to meet hers. “I expected them to be different . . . you know, after Mikayla?”

“I couldn’t breastfeed her.” She shrugged. “I was ill for a while after the birth, and by the time I was well enough, she was on the bottle and my milk had dried up.” His eyes darkened.

“Ill?” Not wanting to discuss that right now, Bronwyn distracted him the only way she knew how, she arched her back until her nipples brushed his naked chest. She hissed as they made contact with the hot, silky flesh that was lightly dusted with soft, golden hair. He groaned at the contact and lowered his eyes back down to her breasts; they were barely a handful—creamy little mounds with raspberry-red tips. His breath caught on a sob of pure desire, and he bent down and did what she was aching for him to do: he took one of the distended tips into his mouth. She squealed, nearly coming off the bed at the electric jolt that swept through her body, and he raised his head to grin at her.

“They’re still as sensitive as I rem—” He was cut off when she lifted impatient hands and pulled his head back down, forcing him to focus on the task at hand. He laughed wickedly and proceeded to give her what she wanted with as much enthusiasm as she was taking it.

Soon they were both completely naked, and Bryce paused above her, his arms planted on either side of her head as he held himself aloft. He stared down into her face with an intensity that unnerved her, before reaching over to the nightstand and fumbling open a drawer to yank out a condom. For a painful moment, Bronwyn wondered why he had a handy stash of condoms in the drawer, before he spoke again, immediately distracting her.

“Still such innocence in those eyes, such trust, they still stare at me with such adoration,” he muttered, half to himself as he dragged on the condom. “How can your eyes tell such
lies
?” Shocked by the near hatred in his voice, Bronwyn gasped in horror as she recognized that this act of sex, if completed, would be another cruel means of hurting her, just another weapon to use against her. Before she had a chance to formulate any kind of protest, he entered her with a gentleness that belied his harsh words and took what she had so heedlessly and freely offered just moments ago. She was so well-primed for it that despite everything, she moaned and her slender thighs clenched around his hips. Her long legs wrapped around his waist as she welcomed him back into her body. He had gone completely still, and she opened her eyes to see him staring down at her triumphantly. Her eyes filled with tears and he glared down at her.

“Don’t you
dare
,” he warned darkly. “Don’t cry.” She couldn’t help it, tears overflowed even as she shoved herself up against him. He groaned and met her lunge with one of his own.

“Don’t cry.”

Bronwyn found herself whimpering desperately in time with his thrusts, even while her tears continued to flow and her heart continued to break.

“Please don’t. Please don’t,” he continued to almost beg, kissing the tears away. His tenderness acted as a balm to her ravaged soul and worked to end the weeping as nothing else could have. “My beautiful, Bronwyn . . .”

Her body arched as the sensations heightened and he reached down between their bodies to find her sensitive little clitoris. His long, clever thumb rubbed across the excited nubbin and that, combined with his thickness inside of her, sent her hurtling over the edge of reason. Her breath hitched in her chest and her head tilted back while her entire body convulsed and clenched around him. She screamed as the powerful orgasm swept through her, and Bryce half-laughed incredulously.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. So absorbed was he in her climax that his own took him completely by surprise. He shouted hoarsely as his entire body bucked and he jerked once, twice before with another shout—her name—he poured himself into her with a broken sob. His eyes closed as his brain shut down and his body went limp. He stirred himself only to remove the condom before flopping down beside her again, dropping a heavy arm over her waist.

“I miss your breathless little sounds.” He broke the silence five minutes later, after their heartbeats and breathing had returned to normal, just as Bronwyn was starting to feel awkward and wondering
now what?
“Those half-formed gasping little words,
God
they used to turn me on more than you can imagine.” She lifted her head from his chest to stare at him.

“You never mentioned that before,” she pointed out, and he smiled.

“Because I
knew
that if I’d said anything you would immediately have felt self-conscious about it.” His reminiscent smile became a wicked grin. “And I didn’t want you tensing up at crucial moments.”

“Yet you feel comfortable enough telling me about it now?” she asked, curious, and he snorted.

“I can’t
hear
them anymore,” he pointed out, and she tensed. “So getting self-conscious about any sounds you produce while we’re making love is a little pointless.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened to you, Bryce?” she asked faintly, and it was his turn to tense up. “Or are you
never
going to afford me the opportunity to defend myself?”

“You were there,” he reminded grimly, and she frowned irritably.

“
Why
do you keep saying that? What do you mean I was ‘there’?” she asked angrily. “Where the hell was I?”