Free The Reluctant Wife by Bronwen Evans Page B

for an instant. Could he stop her if she ever chose to invoke her out-clause and take his children with her to England? She wouldn’t if he gave her what she wanted—love.
    Love. Could he trust her? She had lied to him once. Deceived him. And then she left.
    Abby sensed his hesitation and took advantage. She wrested control from him. She rose above him and slid slowly down the full, thick length of him. She shuddered as he filled her.
    Charged with a wild energy, he surged upward, driving deeply into her. Totally in command now, she began to move and he was helpless to slow her rhythmic surging. He battled to disguise his intense pleasure at her wild cries of satisfaction.
    Dante was hard-pressed to maintain his control. She was wild and wanton above him. He tried to silence her enraptured cries with a kiss meant to make her slow down, make it last. He wanted this to last forever, imagined them taking their pleasure in a sensual feast prolonged to exhaustion. He was determined that their first coupling since she’d left would obliterate his continual need for her. Until their physical relationship was on his terms.
    He felt her inner thigh muscles pulsing and his control fled altogether. Each movement was white-hot, an anguished entreaty to finish it now, fast and fiercely. His body matched her urgency, demanded that he roll her beneath him and bring the storm of sensation to its conclusion. Abby shook her head, riding him harder, faster. “For once in our marriage you will allow me…”
    The censure in her tone sent a stab of unease to his gut. Dante acquiesced. He arched against the headboard, his hands molding her hips, trying to slow her pace.
    …
    Abby could hardly believe Dante had surrendered to her. Never in their year together as husband and wife had he allowed her to even imagine owning what went on in their bedroom. He had always ruthlessly dominated, pushing her to a fever pitch of passion, denying his own needs until she had been completely satisfied. Just once she wanted to see him lose that rigid self-control, to be so lost in her that he gave into his feelings.
    Dante inside her felt too good.
    “Come for me, Abby,” he murmured, his face pressed between her breasts, his hands trying to hold her still above him. Instead, she lifted herself higher up the length of him, then slowly sank down again so her muscles clutched around him. His deep groan thrilled her. He arched upward and thrust deep, driving to repeat the maneuver. She sank down, wanting absolute possession of all he could give her.
    He was moving with her now. She rocked, twisted, and teased him, feeling waves of pleasure break over her. Abby had never known anything like this. It was intoxicating—addictive—she was driving him, commanding him…her whole body keyed to reading his response, feeling his acute tension, knowing she was responsible for this crack in his control.
    Now. It was now. She could feel her own peak approaching. She gripped his sides with her thighs and urged a faster rhythm. She longed to take his mastery from him, especially in the place he thought he ruled supreme—their bed. She wanted to make him lose himself in her and bring him to a place where their union was based on mutual need, not a piece of paper.
    She trained every muscle, every nerve, and every movement on making it happen, determined to excite him to fever pitch, caressing, pressing, goading with her thighs, muscles, and hands. She took his mouth in a furious kiss, dueling for supremacy with his tongue. She won. She rained kisses down his neck, tasting him, marking him with little love bites.
    He labored to catch his breath and she exulted in the tightening of his muscles, his thighs becoming rock hard as he thrust deep within her, the ride becoming wild. She heard her own voice crying uncontrollably for him to come…
    And the animal roar in response, rising from deep in his chest, when he finally went taut, lifting her up off the bed as he strove for