Bound By Marriage. Nalini Singh

but.

      She had the feeling he was hanging on by a very thin thread, the pulsing length of his erection a physical mark of desire against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. A small part of her feared the intensity of him, but that part was buried under the crushing force of her own need.

      Gripping her bottom, he nudged at her with that length of hard, hot flesh. Lightning sizzled up her body and when he pushed in, she screamed. But Gabe was true to his word, easing his way into her so slowly she thought she’d go mad. He touched places inside of her that no one had ever touched, bringing intense pleasure.

      And no pain.

      “I’m damn glad you’re a rider, Jess,” he almost growled as he filled her, going so deep that she could feel his heartbeat in her body.

      Not aware enough to understand what he was referring to, she squeezed intimate muscles around him in a reaction as old as time itself. Throwing back his head, he tightened his hold on her and began to move. His rhythm was fast, his strokes deep. She screamed and screamed as he pushed her over the edge in a tempest of hot breaths and powerful thrusts.

      And when she fell, it was as a marked woman. Gabriel Dumont’s woman.

      Jess felt raw, exposed. He’d shattered her, claimed her passion and left her powerless. And she’d let him. Begged him. Now that the haze of desire had faded to reveal harsh reality, she couldn’t accept or understand the depth of her capitulation.

      He wasn’t supposed to be the man who made her yearn!

      It felt as though she’d given up her dream in that bed…given up Damon. Every time she’d felt pleasure, every time she’d screamed, she’d betrayed the love that had lived in her heart for a lifetime. And she didn’t understand how that could have happened. Gabe wasn’t the kind of man she could ever love. She wasn’t even sure she liked him.

      Sliding quietly out of bed, she pulled on the first thing that came to hand. Unfortunately, it was Gabe’s shirt. The scent of him was in the fibers, on her skin, in the air. It mocked her with echoes of what he’d taken…what she’d relinquished. As she searched for her dress so she could get rid of the shirt, she heard the sheets rustle.

      “Where are you going, Jess?”

      A bedside lamp came on.

      Blinking against the glare, she tucked her hair behind her ears and buttoned up the shirt. “To my own bedroom.”

      His eyes were cold, focused. “I was under the impression you were already there.”

      “Look,” she said, finding courage from the ragged tatters of her pride. “We’ve consummated the marriage. There’s no need for us to be in the same bed anymore. I’d rather sleep on my own.” She hugged her arms around herself. “I’ll…I’ll let you know if we were successful.”

      He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not that arrogant—it’s probably going to take more than one try.”

      She bit her lower lip, trying not to look at the muscled upper body she’d caressed so feverishly less than an hour ago. “Well we can’t do anything for a couple of days anyway. It didn’t hurt during but I’m sore now.” Despite the humiliating awkwardness of the admission, she forced herself to meet his eye, aware that Gabriel would capitalize on the slightest indication of weakness with brutal efficiency.

      He flicked off the light. “Suit yourself. But don’t try to use sex against me. I don’t play those kinds of games.”

      “I’m not playing a game.”

      “Aren’t you?” He snorted. “If you think I’m going to agree to carry on with a marriage where my wife saves herself for another man, you’re sadly mistaken.”