From Fake to Forever (Newlywed Games 2)

“Sorry I woke you up. I just needed to feel safe. Don’t kick me out.”

“’Kay.”

His arm grew heavier and his breathing even. And he didn’t so much as roll away from her even a little. He cared about her; there was no mistaking it. It just wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was time to figure out what could be enough.

* * *

Jason woke all at once, extremely aware of two things: one, the raised curtain let in a hell of a lot of sunlight for 6:00 a.m. Two, Meredith was in his bed, snugged up against him, spoon-style, despite an ocean of bed on the other side of her.

And he liked her exactly where she was. His lower half firmly approved and raised the flag in joyful salute.

That was bad. She’d come to him in the middle of the night looking for a security blanket, not a lover. He couldn’t take advantage of her. They’d agreed to a civil relationship conducted in separate bedrooms. Like what he would have had with Meiling.

She made a noise in her throat and arched, presumably in a just-waking-up stretch. Her bottom grazed his groin and her noise transformed into a sexy moan. She murmured his name and snuggled closer.

He groaned. Who was he kidding? He hadn’t married Meiling. He’d married Meredith and he couldn’t resist her. Not now, not ever. She was in his bed, in his head, drugging him with her seductive lure. Fisting his hands in the fabric at her hips, he hauled her closer, as she twisted against his erection in a slow, sensuous, deliberate slide.

Need exploded in his midsection, urging him to slake his thirst in his wife’s sweet center.

“Meredith,” he growled. She had four seconds to vacate his bed or reap the consequences. Which would be a very delicious and well-deserved punishment indeed.

“Yeah, hon?”

“Now it’s about sex.”

“You better believe it.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His boxer shorts hit the floor.

In seconds, he peeled the lacy top and shorts off her killer body and threw them over his shoulder, then spooned her back into place. He nipped at her throat at the same moment she reached back to guide his hands to her breasts. Hot and firm, they filled his palms, and he explored her peaked nipples at his leisure until she pushed deeper into his hands, silently begging for more.

“I need you now,” she murmured thickly and her desire zinged through him.

He had a goddess in his bed, in his arms, and he wanted to be inside her, pleasuring her, completing her, while she filled him from the inside out with her unique power.

Groaning with the effort, he rolled away and fumbled in his nightstand for the condoms that he was pretty sure were still there from his last relationship...which had ended six or eight months ago if he recalled. His fingers closed around one and miraculously, he got it into place without losing it altogether.

He slid into heaven a moment later. She gasped and tilted her hips, drawing him deeper. The perfection sent him into an upward spiral, nearly initiating a premature explosion he wasn’t ready for.

“Wait,” he gasped and stilled her writhing body with a flat hand to her stomach.

“Uh, no.” She thrust backward, and his eyes crossed as the pressure built. “You feel amazing. I can’t wait. Touch me.”

With no clue how he’d held back, he complied, fingering her center with quick, firm circles and letting her set the frantic pace until she stiffened and cried out. Ripples of her fierce climax set off his and he buried himself to the hilt with a hoarse cry.

Spent, he held her close, reveling in the heat and sensation bleeding through his body.

“You feel free to have a nightmare any night you choose,” he muttered into her hair.

She didn’t respond for so long, he wondered if maybe she hadn’t heard him. Or maybe he’d said the wrong thing. “You okay?”

She rolled to face him and he missed the feel of her body against his.

“What are we doing here?”

Connecting. Exactly like he’d imagined, except better. She belonged in his bed. “I was taking advantage of the fact that it’s Saturday. What were you doing?”

Her brows drew together. “I mean with us. I didn’t climb into your bed with the intent of seducing you.”

He hid a smile. “Is that what you did? Oh, no. I feel all compromised and stuff.”

“Stop making jokes and listen. This is serious. We’re married. We’re living in the same house. We slept together last night and you held me through the remnants of a nightmare. Then we woke up to indulge in wicked, hot morning sex. All things real couples do. What part of this marriage is fake?”

All vestiges of good humor fled as her meaning sank in. “I guess... Well, when you put it that way, none of it is.”