Chapter 31

DAKOTA

THE GRANDFATHER clock in the hall chimed midnight, I woke from a fitful sleep to sweep a hand over the cool bedsheets beside me. My stomach growled and yanked me into full consciousness. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and stared into the darkness. Perhaps Sam had returned and fallen asleep on the chaise. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I realized I was alone. But not for long.

A sliver of light sliced across the room as the door opened. The tall silhouette of my husband darkened the doorway. Too emotionally drained for another confrontation, I slipped back beneath the sheets and pretended to sleep. The door closed behind him. He stalked across the room on silent feet, graceful as a panther in pursuit of a doe, and came to a stop beside the bed. I felt his gaze drill into me.

“You can stop faking it. I know you’re awake,” he said.

I opened my eyes. He kicked off his shoes. They landed on the floor with a muffled thump. He continued to stare down at me as his fingers unfastened the buttons of his shirt then tossed it to the floor. He unbuckled his belt, sliding it through the loops with exaggerated slowness. The zipper of his trousers growled in the quietness. The walls of my throat tightened as he pushed his pants and boxers over his hips. They puddled at his feet. He wobbled as he struggled out of them.

“Are you drunk?” I sat up, thoroughly shocked. I’d only seen Sam inebriated a handful of times.

“Fuck yeah,” he said, his speech still crisp. He placed a knee on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight.

“Where have you been?” The smell of scotch filled the air between us.

“Do you care?”

“Of course I do.”

“Hollow words, Mrs. Seaforth. I’m beginning to wonder where your loyalties lie.”

I slid closer to my side of the bed and hauled the blanket up to my chin. He pulled it away, exposing my body and the thin nightgown covering it. His eyes raked over me. My insides trembled so violently that I thought surely he would see it. Not from fear but from all the feelings battling for escape.

“You don’t love me anymore.” On arms taut with muscle, he lowered himself onto the bed.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” I clung to my indifference for protection against the emotions surging inside me.

“I know exactly what I’m saying. I no longer hold a place in your heart.” With a slow, graceful slide, he pressed his body to my side. The heat of his torso burned through my nightgown.

I swallowed hard. “You’re being ridiculous.” The floor loomed at my left. I was trapped, unable to move any further.

“Am I? We haven’t slept together in months, and you know what they say.” He bent and blew a hot breath onto my right nipple. It puckered in immediate response. “If you’re not getting it at home, you must be getting it somewhere else.”

“Who says that? No one says that.” I reached for the blanket, but he caught my arm by the wrist. He grabbed the opposite hand and pulled them both over my head, trapping them there with gentle pressure. “Sam.”

His head dipped lower. He took the tight point between his teeth and tugged. I gasped, feeling the pull deep between my legs. “Are you? Getting it somewhere else?”

“You think I’ve been unfaithful? Seriously?” Desire mingled with rage. “I would never cheat on you.”

“But you don’t love me.” He rested his chin on my chest and stared at me through long, black lashes.

“Stop it. You’re being an ass.” I bucked beneath him, hard enough to make him grunt. “It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s just—things are different. I’m not the same person anymore.”

By patiently working his knee back and forth, he managed to nudge my thighs apart and settled between them. The weight of his erection nudged against my clit. He shifted his hips, hitting the optimum spot, causing need to flare inside me. Still pinning my wrists above my head with his left hand, he used his free hand to push my nightgown over my hips. One of his fingers slipped inside my panties and traced my folds where I was slick with need.

“You may not love me, but you still want me.” His eyelids lowered to half-mast, and one corner of his mouth tilted upward in a smirk. “You’re so wet. And I bet if touched you right here, you’d gasp.” To prove his point, he dragged his fingertip in a teasing circle around my clit. Shards of sexual excitement took my breath away.

“Why are you being like this?” I tilted my pelvis, grinding into his hand, wanton with desire, unable to stop myself. It had been too long for both of us. If he touched me like that for long, I’d lose the little bit of self-control I had left.

“Like what?” He continued to tease me with his fingers, using languid strokes, until my legs twitched.

“Let go of my hands.” I struggled against his grasp, desperate to regain control.

“And what if I don’t?” The plush stubble of his five o’clock shadow tickled as he nibbled and sucked along the column of my neck.

“I’ll scream.” We both knew this was a lie, but I was so desperate to feel his skin, to smooth my hands along his back, to pull him closer, that I’d do just about anything to get my way.

“Give me one good reason why I should let you go.”

“I need to touch you.” My words came out stilted and breathy.

One of his fingers slipped inside me, followed by a second. My muscles clenched and fluttered in pre-orgasmic warning. “Oh no, no you don’t. Not yet. You’ll come when I’m damn good and ready and not a minute before.”

“Please, please let me come.” I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled my head from side to side. He removed his fingers. The abrupt end to his touch sent a shudder down my body. When I opened my eyes, I found him staring down at me, green eyes almost black. I strained upward to find his lips, desperate to have his mouth on mine. I wanted him, the friction of his tongue, the firm softness of his lips. He pulled back just enough to put an inch of space between us. A small groan of frustration slipped out before I could stop it.

“So greedy.” He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

“You could fuck me,” I replied hopefully.

“What’s the magic word?” He arched an eyebrow.

“You could fuck me. Please. Sir.” I blinked innocently.

“That’s better.” A ghost of a smile teased his lips.

Once again, I went in for his mouth. This time he let me kiss him, slowly at first. Our lips met tentatively. I felt his hesitation and confusion, things that I’d given him. The taste of scotch burned my tongue. He held still, letting me come to him. When I deepened the kiss, he released my hands. I dug my fingers into his hair, angling his jaw to give me better access to his tongue. A deep growl rumbled through his chest. With a sudden jerk, he slid his knees apart, opening my thighs wide. Heat raced from my core and up my chest.

“What’s gotten into you?” My heart pinged against my ribcage, so fast and so hard that I thought my chest would explode.

“I’m going to make you remember why you loved me.” He dragged a hand along the length of my neck and down to squeeze my breast. “I’m going to fuck you until you remember why you married me.” His hand continued down my side to grab a handful of my bottom. With a shift of his hips, he nudged his cock inside me, sliding in all the way to the root with a slow, torturous shove. The friction of his bare skin inside my channel sent a wave of gooseflesh along my forearms.

He picked up a furious rhythm, hard enough to make the headboard thump against the wall. I lost track of who we were or why we’d ever been estranged at all. I clung to him, dug my nails into his back, and wrapped my legs around his pumping hips. The mattress creaked and groaned. As pleasure swept up my limbs, I moaned, lost in the sensation of a powerful man between my legs.

In the morning, I awoke and stretched luxuriously, basking in the sensation of being well-fucked. The feeling passed when I realized I was alone and the mattress cool to the touch. I dressed quickly and trotted downstairs. I found Sam in the kitchen. When I entered the room, he glanced up, avoiding my gaze.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Morning.” A plate of biscuits rested on the counter. He buttered the top of one, took a bite, then set it down.

“Hung over?” I asked. A peculiar air of estrangement lurked between us. The afterglow of our torrid lovemaking faded away with the night.

“Yes. A little.” With a heavy sigh, he covered the plate with foil and turned to leave. “I’ll have our luggage brought downstairs. We can leave right away if you want.”

“Wait.” I touched his arm. He stopped but didn’t look at me. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” The line of his jaw tightened. He shoved a hand through his hair. “About last night—I owe you an apology. I was drunk and didn’t know what I was doing.”

No, no, no. A mistake? The tenseness of his shoulders sent a shard of panic straight into my soul. “It seems like all we do anymore is apologize to each other.” I covered my face with my hands before straightening. “I love you, Sam. Last night was just what I needed. I needed you. You. All this time I’ve been pushing you away when all I really wanted was you.” He stared at me, eyes narrowed, disbelieving. “Please tell me it’s not too late.”

In two steps, he crossed the room and took my mouth in a deep and lingering kiss. When he pulled back, he said, “It’s never too late for us.”