The Wife Win

Harper

My head spins. My lips tingle. And my body yearns for more than that featherlight touch Marek pressed to my mouth.

I know he’s waiting for me to say something. To give my consent. To give him a green light and go, but I’m honestly stunned and speechless. I wasn’t expecting a man like Marek to be interested in me. Not like this.

It’s been so long since I’ve even dated that I’m a bit out of practice on the norms of physical intimacy. I’m also stuck inside my head, playing a game of what ifs and whys. I must wear an odd expression because one minute Marek has my jaw cupped in his warm hands, and the next he’s backing away, putting enough distance for a small elephant to roam between us.

He blinks and scrubs a hand down his face, a look of uncertainty flickering in his expression. “I’m sorry, Harper. I don’t know what came over me. It was unprofessional and highly inappropriate. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

I slap a hand over his thigh. My eyes follow where my touch meets his, noticing the thick, defined muscle that flexes under my grasp. My gaze tracks upward to the even thicker bulge in his pants.

When I raise my face back to his, he’s watching me with a look of cautious optimism.

“I liked it, Marek. You just took me by surprise is all,” I admit, tracing my lower lip with my finger, still feeling the slight abrasion of his stubble. “But I liked it a lot.”

He brushes a strand of hair that’s fallen from my bun behind my ear, the touch sending shivers down my spine. I lick my lips, feeling my nipples pucker tightly against my bra.

Marek drops his hand and clears his throat. “I know what this may look like,”—he motions around the room—“me inviting you to stay here, all alone in this house. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me. I would never presume—”

I stop him with a finger at his lips. “You didn’t plan this. I know that, Marek. I…well, honestly, I’d be disappointed if you stopped.”

Within a space of a moment, Marek has closed the space between us, cupping my face again in his hands and pressing his mouth firmly this time to mine. I immediately comply, offering everything I have to this kiss. His tongue runs over the seam of my lips and I open for him, allowing him every square inch of my mouth. He explores with confidence, as an urgent and fervent need to be closer to him overcomes me.

Without a second thought, I slide off my chair, planting a foot on either side of his thighs and straddle his lap, latching my arms around his neck. My fingers sift through his gloriously thick strands, tugging him tightly to me. He moans out a desperate sound, which could be a result of the deepened kiss as I tug on his hair, or the fact that I just rocked into the bulge of his crotch.

Marek moves his hands down my back until they curl around my hips, aiding with my upward momentum. His mouth leaves mine and wanders down the crook of my neck as I tilt my head to give him free rein to press wet, hot kisses down my neck to the top of my shoulder where the skin is bared from my slouchy sweatshirt.

“I’ve imagined what your skin tastes like,” Marek confesses between kisses, his tongue rolling over the flesh, taking a journey up to my ear before nipping at the lobe. “But it wasn’t this fucking good.”

I gasp and then tremble, closing my eyes at the erotic sensation his words evoke. All of it leaves me feeling woozy, giving me a better buzz than any wine or shot of alcohol ever could. Marek skims his hand over the curve of my hip, brushing the edge of my shirt with the tips of his fingers before burrowing underneath where he toys along the hem of my pants.

The touch stops short of leading where I want him to go.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, hoping to encourage him along as I run my palms over the top of his shoulders and then down his arms, reveling in the dips and valleys of his biceps. “You can touch me there.”

I drop my arm, covering his knuckles to guide his hand along my stomach, which tightens and clenches at the feel of his heat. No further encouragement is needed as he takes over from there, gliding over my belly, his fingers exploring on their own accord before moving upward. My entire body shivers when his thumb flicks over the lacy bra to touch my pebbled nipple. His mouth once again finds the dip in my throat, his tongue tracing warm, soft patterns over my skin.

I wonder if he can feel the fast-pumping beat of my heart, thumping wildly inside my chest. I feel breathless and out of control when his large hand encompasses my breast, squeezing the firm flesh as I press into his palm, seeking more. I grind my hips in response, welcoming the responding jerk of his erection. My panties dampen and he takes my mouth again in another deep and demanding kiss.

Locking my fingers behind his head, I arch against his erection, rocking rhythmically in search of more friction. More heat. More of him.

With reflexes as nimble as a cat, he jumps to his feet, lifting me in his arms as I wrap my legs around his waist. Holding me close with one arm under my ass, he sweeps another hand out and clears the table, the papers and folders scattering in various directions, the sound of papers hitting the floor making me giggle.

“That’s going to be a mess to clean up later.”

He shushes me, but still a sound escapes my throat, a torn cry of need and surprise when he lays me across the sturdy wooden table.

“Fuck,” he growls. “I need my mouth on you.”

Marek wrenches my shirt up and over my breasts, pushing the cups of the bra out of the way. My nipples respond with hard peaks as they are bared to him. Marek drinks me in, standing over me to stare down at my body like I’m a feast on the table.

“I knew you’d be perfect.”

I want so badly to cover my breasts from view. I’ve long been embarrassed by how large I am, hiding them in every way possible to avoid constant gawking and objectifying leers.

But the way Marek looks at me has the opposite effect. He makes me feel desirable and beautiful. He also makes me want him to continue with what he was doing.

I lift the corner of my mouth in a naughty grin, reaching for the hem of his shirt to give him a good tug, bringing him down to my chest. “You going to do something with that mouth of yours besides talk, Big Man?”