Game for Marriage (Game for It 1)

“More,” she whispered. “Touch me.”

A woman who asked for what she wanted. He could appreciate that. Without hesitation he slid his fingers farther, tracing her slit, pressing until he was searching her wet folds. A shuddering breath escaped her when he circled her clit. A little scream left her when he slid one, then two fingers inside her, pumping slowly in and out of her welcoming body.

They were out of control. Standing in the hallway of his house, a perfectly huge bed a few feet away. Yet he had Sheridan held against the wall, his fingers busy beneath her panties, her breathy little sighs and impatient thrusts against his hand telling him she was close to orgasm.

Sheridan. His wife. The one he had the marriage clause with. Where they weren’t supposed to have sex or else the contract would become null and void.

“Oh, God. Oh, God…” She was panting, her hips thrusting against his hand. She was so damn close. He couldn’t leave her high and dry.

With expert precision he thrummed her clit with his thumb, watched with utter satisfaction as she stilled, her expression frozen, her entire body seemingly paralyzed before the shudders overtook her completely.

“That’s it,” he murmured close to her ear, still playing with her, fingers still thrusting deep inside her heat. “Come for me.”

She moaned, whispered his name once, then again, and still she kept on coming. Until he knew she was completely spent, the tiny shudders wracking her body the only indication she was coming down from what appeared to be a pretty damn intense orgasm. And he was the one who did that to her. A surge of pride moved through him at the realization.

“Wow.” Sheridan blinked her eyes into focus, the look of utter satisfaction on her face making his cock twitch with eagerness. Yeah, down boy. So not going to happen. “That was…amazing.”

“Yeah, well.” He withdrew his hand from beneath her panties, released his hold on her so she had no choice but to stand on her own two feet again. She was a little wobbly, he couldn’t help but notice as he reached out to set her right, making sure she was stable before he let her go. “We can’t do anything else.”

Her eyebrows crinkled into a frown. “What do you mean?”

“The clause, remember?”

She smiled, reaching for his crotch but he dodged her just in time. If those deft hands touched him again, he couldn’t be held responsible for what he’d do. “Please. Like you’re going to let that stand in your way? I can keep a secret.”

“We take it too far, there’s no going back,” he warned. “We can lose everything, Sheridan.”

The look she flashed him was pure seduction. “Maybe I don’t want to go back.” Those fingers of hers danced across his chest, his skin tightening even with the shirt he wore as a barrier from her touch. “I could give you the best blowjob of your life right now if you’d let me.”

He bet she could. Her confidence was sexy. He could envision that lush mouth wrapped tight around his cock, sliding up and down, lips parted invitingly as he came down her throat…

Hell. He broke out into a sweat just thinking about it.

“We can’t do this. I’m not risking it.”

Her jaw dropped open, and he knew she was going to protest, but he turned away. Before he did something really stupid.

Like drag her into his bedroom, caveman-style.

“So you don’t trust me.” Her voice was flat.

“I never said that,” he started but she glared at him. All signs of the gloriously satisfied woman of a few moments ago were long gone.

“You didn’t have to. I tell you I can keep our secret and you still turn me away. I would say it’s pretty obvious you don’t trust me.”

“Fine.” He threw his hands up into the air. “I don’t trust you. I can’t freaking trust myself. I don’t trust anyone, Sheridan—I can’t, not in my profession. Not after what’s happened to me. People close to me would stab me in the back with a smile on their face if that meant they could make a shit ton of money off my story.”

She blinked, her mouth opening as if she were about to say something.

“We need to stop doing this,” he muttered, rubbing his hand along his jaw. “I’m hurting you every time we come together and that’s the last thing I want to do.” Without another word, he walked away from her. Sporting a raging boner, a confused brain, and an agonized conscience.

At the worst possible moment of his life, he’d actually dug out his moral compass and used it—flaunted it, even. She was most likely pissed, though hell, he was the one with blue balls while she’d just had the mother of all orgasms. Brought on only by his fingers.

Shaking his head, he shut his bedroom door with a quiet click, thinking he might’ve heard an aggravated growl coming from a particular feminine voice on the other side of the door, but he couldn’t be sure. Their already fragile so-called relationship had probably gone right into the toilet with this one gesture. He’d rejected her. Sort of.

And she’d probably never let him forget it, either.

Chapter Ten