Hard Way (15 page)

She shivered. “Next.”

He watched her for a moment, his jaw shifting. “Have you given up on us?”

Every time Sunny thought they’d shredded every level of hurt, he managed to claw deeper. “I wouldn’t still be here if I had.”

He took her down in a flurry of sleek moves, yet he dropped her rather carefully. Her weight slammed evenly across her shoulders.

He was keeping her safe in the middle of danger.

She didn’t want to be safe. Not from him. She wanted his full force. The full brunt of the rage and his truths, all unleashed on her.

She fought like a wildcat. Her hips bucked. Her hands knotted across the back of his shoulders. There was no gainsaying him. He grabbed her right wrist and yanked it up in a relentless hold. She flipped facedown, trying to escape the sharp pain that lanced up her shoulder. That shift only offered him up her other wrist.

He wrenched them together and held them in one fist. Sunny’s face pressed against the sticky plastic mat. Her breathing was wicked fast, until she thought she might pass out if she pushed too far.

His fingers coasted down the crease between her cheeks and pressed the thin material of her shorts. She writhed and jerked, but his questing touch became rougher and more intimate. He yanked her shorts down to her knees, along with her panties. Her sex was wet and hungry. He grabbed her pussy, then squeezed.

She grunted and pressed her face flat against the floor. With her mouth and nose mashed shut, her breathing was cut off.

“Do you like that?” He pinched. His fingertips dug into the upper crest of her pussy, pushing on her clit. “You do. You’re spilling over my palm. So fucking wet. A dirty slut who wants something, don’t you? You want to be fucked hard?”

She shook her head and kicked between his knees. A spike of fear took her from nowhere. She’d always trusted Liam—but what if she shouldn’t?

Her head spun. Black streaked across her vision. “Eight years. Eight years,” she gasped.

He levered off her. Hands off her wrists. Knees off the backs of her thighs. Just like that, she was free of his weight. She curled into herself.

“Sunny?” His voice was tentative. He touched her nowhere.

She held up a hand, sucking in great blowing breaths. “Couldn’t breathe.”

She shifted to lie flat on her stomach once again. With her head pressed back into place on the mat, she returned her wrists to where he’d pinned them.

Gulping one more shot of air, she nodded. “Go.”

He chuckled as he flattened along her length and took her wrists again. “You do want it. This. Us. I gave you the break you needed and you practically pose for me. Right here.” He twisted his hand and shoved long fingers in her cunt. He coiled them forward to stroke her front wall, where her G-spot took up shivering, rolling notice. “You want my cock right here.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You do.” He curled over her. His voice slithered in her ear. “Tell me.”

“No.”

He rolled along her entire body in a forceful push. His fingers rippled and stroked and took. “You’ll say it, or I won’t fuck you. In fact, I want you to say please. Pretty, pretty please, Dash. Fuck me until I come.”

“Piss off.” She spat the words, even though she wanted it, even though she needed this release with every fiber of her being. Something had coiled in her head, in her body, and the only chance to let it free was the way he took her.

He pulled his fingers free of her pussy. She buried her sad moan in the mat. She wanted that invasion so damn badly.

After shifting his weight more fully across her back, he shoved his fingers into her mouth. “Taste that. Taste how wet you are.”

She’d have refused, but she was too busy licking her flavor off his fingers. Maybe she was a filthy cockslut. Even unlocking the words in her head shocked her with a full-body shiver.

He took his fingers away, and she moaned again—just as frustrated. He pinched her clit between two fingers. Hard. Harder. Oh good God, he was using every bit of force and what tiny bit of nails he had. “Say it, Sunny. Say it or I’ll pinch this pretty little clit right off.”

Her moans broke into full-out cries. “Fuck me, Liam.” She might beg for him, but that meant begging for her husband—not some Air Force puppet named Dash. “Pretty please, fuck me until I come. I need it. I want it. Liam, please.” Her last word extended out and out into a needy cry.

He forced his rigid prick inside, slamming down with every thrust. The mat was too nice. It cushioned her and accepted her, until he squeezed an arm between it and her body. He grabbed one tit and pinched her nipple.

She exploded. The orgasm took her brain away. White fireworks flashed behind her eyes. Great gasping jerks of air filled her lungs, as shining, tingling pleasure spread through her cunt and into her chest.

Liam needed only seconds more. His length filled her and seized with the small twitches of his orgasm. He breathed her name, over and over again. She didn’t think he was aware of it. It just
was
.

Tears burned when they collapsed side by side. She threw an arm over her eyes as she flopped to her back.

A month ago, she wouldn’t have thought Dash capable of getting past her defenses. She’d thought herself armor-plated. After trying for so long, there was nothing to connect her to the man she’d married. Now he was busily prying every weakness she’d never known she had.

It wasn’t enough that they’d rediscovered smoking-hot sex. She knew how endorphins worked and the science of attachment with regards to sex. No, the small things were adding up. Coming home early from his night out. Replacing her ruined groceries. Taking her to the pinball arcade, which obviously meant so much to him.

Dash rustled beside her. He tucked slight touches across the tender inside of her elbow. He was getting good at that, finding the ways to her soft spots.

“You hiding in there?”

She forced a cough and cleared her tears away fast. “Yeah. Fine. Was a little intense.”

“I’m glad we know we can stop.” His flashy eagle grin came out, but he folded it away so quickly that she might’ve imagined it. “Can I come to bed tonight?”

What was she going to do with him? She traced his wicked cheekbones, under his eyes. His whole heart was there on display. “Yes, Liam. Come sleep with me.”

Chapter Fifteen

Dash hadn’t awakened with Sunny in his arms for a very long time. Until he wound up in couch purgatory, he’d taken for granted that they would sleep in the same bed. That wasn’t the same as holding her when he first opened his eyes.

When had he let this go so wrong?

He’d been shocked, angry, practically offended by those four life-altering words. “I want a divorce.” The days since, however, had made him reassess. He was still furious that Sunny would even consider welcoming another man into her life. He stared at the ceiling until he could suppress that flash of jealous outrage.

My wife.

Mine.

Breathing, breathing, he calmed his heart rate. With Sunny still asleep and tucked against his chest, curled into him, Dash found it much easier to push the worst of his anger away. At least she was here. Now.

Have you given up on us?

I wouldn’t still be here if I had.

It was enough to build from.

He nestled his face against her hair. Breathing this time meant taking in the very essence of the woman he loved. They hadn’t showered after sex in the garage, where he’d subdued her in every possible way. Instead they’d trudged, exhausted and limp-boned, into their bedroom of three years. They’d done so while holding hands.

Getting ready for bed had been surprisingly intimate—sharing space in the bathroom to brush teeth, watching from the corner of his eye as Sunny applied face-cream concoctions. Finally, they’d removed what was left of their clothes and crawled into bed. She’d been stiff and motionless, and Dash had barely been able to hear her breathe.

“I’d rather go back to the couch than lie here like strangers,” he’d whispered.

“I hadn’t realized your request came with caveats.”

“I hadn’t either. Your call, Sunny.”

After a deep exhalation, she’d budged. It was only a scoot toward him, but Liam took it as a giant
welcome home
sign, the kind she and the other wives held aloft for airmen returning from deployments. So he’d gathered her into his arms. Tears had slicked his chest and shoulder. Maybe it was the coward’s way out, but he hadn’t been able to ask why she was crying.

Good or bad, he’d been the cause.

He wanted to make it good. To make it better. To fix whatever the hell they’d managed to lose. What they’d lost was a beautiful thing. He was only now beginning to realize how much he’d taken for granted, such as holding her in their bed as the sun gilded the room with golden light and potential.

He kissed her crown and deepened his hold. He didn’t want to wake her, per se—only wanted to get closer.

One delicate hand slid across his torso, in the slope between his pecs and abs. She found his side, clenched her fingers and ducked her head more tightly against his chest. Dash barely breathed.

For any other couple, waking in such a position might mean a morning quickie. He was turned on enough for one, and for the most innocent of reasons. At that moment, forcing her held no appeal. He wanted them to come together as a pair. As a partnership. Until that could happen, a morning quickie was anything but simple.

No matter how right she felt in his arms, and no matter how much he wanted to lay her down and join their bodies, they weren’t ready.

That scared the shit out of him.

They were fine with sex that bordered on rape, but forget making love. Tenderness. Generosity.
Emotional
trust.

Time.

Christ, give me more time.

At least he had these days while his opponent was in L.A. or DC or wherever the hell. Grace time. Nearly three weeks to make her doubt her choice and buy them another chance. He had her attention and planned to keep it. Keep her.

Sunny mumbled something incoherent. Her fingers clamped a little more forcibly. Dash closed his eyes, relishing the last seconds when their day would be uncomplicated. Hell, it could be the last time
period
.

He was beginning to catalog every moment, just in case, even as recognizing those moments—rather than taking them for granted—made him all the more determined to keep Sunny as his wife.

She jerked her head upright. So much for the slow lassitude of awaking from a restful sleep. No stretches or smiles or kisses along his bare chest. This was the sudden flinch of a woman who’d broken free of a bad dream. With her gaze locked with his, she blinked a few times, then smoothed dark hair back from her face. The ends tickled the inside of the arm he’d curled around her shoulders.

“Hi,” he said, striving for casual. “Sleep okay?”

She blinked again. To read such obvious confusion in her kohl-dark eyes stabbed tiny daggers into his heart. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.”

Dash pushed a strand she’d missed back from her cheek. She was still staring. He tried to take it in stride. Time. Patience. But damn, he wanted to haul her back down to where they wouldn’t have to look the challenging shit in the face.

If wishes were horses…

“When do you have to be at work?” he asked. The question grated like sandpaper on his tongue, but he was really, really trying to be good.

“Nine. What time is it?”

“After seven. You’re fine.”

“Cool. You?”

“Same.”

She nodded, still wearing the puzzled expression that made him want to crawl out of his skin and into her head. Her fingers loosened. Hand off his chest. And she slipped out of bed.

Dash let her go, all in the hopes that doing so would mean keeping her for good. That meant watching her walk away while she wore nothing but the dark blanket of her long, lush hair. The firm curve of her tempting ass peeked out from underneath the longest strands.

He’d spread her open and fucked her on their sparring mat—a sex act of mind-wiping proportions. Now he wanted nothing more than to kiss his way up her thigh and over those gentle golden curves.

“Hey,” he called. “It’s your turn, you know.”

She paused in the doorway to the bathroom, but she didn’t turn to face him. “For what?”

“I took you to pinball. Your turn to choose.”

“A…” She swallowed. “Another date? Don’t you think you’re laying it on too thick?”

“Maybe, if I’d insisted on my choice again.” He pushed up onto his elbow, conscious that the sheet covered but couldn’t conceal his erection. His brain felt too hot and too large for his skull. He scrubbed his hair down to the scalp—then caught Sunny watching. “But it’s up to you. Take me someplace you never thought to show me. Whatever you’ve hidden because you thought I’d call it boring or stupid or childish.”

“And if you wind up thinking it’s boring or stupid or childish?”

He held her gaze with all of the morning’s emotion. “Then I do. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing, and you don’t have to defend it.”