Natalie mentally reeled.

  Opened her mouth to disagree that unzipping and giving hell was a negative thing.

  But August had already stripped off his shirt—oh, the muscle—and rolled over onto his back. “Come here.” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, that broad chest beginning to heave faster and faster. “Let me lick it.”

  Her brain had gone offline. “I don’t understand.”

  August either didn’t hear her or was choosing to ignore her confusion, because his teeth were sinking into that glossy bottom lip now, his palm stroking the ridge in his jeans. “Christ, just thinking about you sitting on my face might finish me.”

  “You want me to—”

  “I’m not above begging.”

  Forget the fact that she’d never done that before. Not from the top position. But she’d experienced the force of nature that was August’s tongue on their wedding night and the memories were not just glorious, they were fresh. He didn’t need to beg. He didn’t even need to ask her twice. She straddled the mile-wide mountain range that was his chest, whimpering when he took two rough handfuls of her backside and dragged her onto his mouth.

  Dragged.

  Grinding her there. On his stiff tongue.

  And now, ladies and gentlemen, she would never again underestimate the effects of nipple stimulation. There was no awkward moment or easing into the act of being pleasured from below. Not when he’d already gotten her this wet, this sensitive. There were only the desperate writhes of her hips, the shallow, hiccupping sounds emanating from her throat, August’s moans, and the wild urgency to climax.

  He entered her with his tongue, pushed it as deep as possible—and her womb itself constricted, her thighs going rubbery. “Oh my God. Oh my God.” His middle finger teased her rear entrance, that magical tongue driving in, out, in—and goodbye reality, she was now a resident of the stars. She rode on a rainbow unicorn over the Milky Way and waved at an astronaut. Her body was still in the bedroom, thighs squeezing the sides of August’s head, fingers clutching shakily at the headboard while wave after wave of pleasure rocketed through her lower body, tightening and releasing muscles, brutalizing her in the best way possible.

  Even after the orgasm crested and she came back down the other side, she was still trembling, her skin speckled in sweat. She actually had to blink several times to align her vision again and look down into August’s face. And he was so turned on by her reaction to what they’d done, so visibly heated, that somehow, against all odds, her own lust rose back to the surface. Unrecognizable, eager sounds fell from her mouth as she scooted backward down his body and found he’d already lowered his zipper. Taken his shaft in his hand.

  “The pill, you said?”

  “Pill. Yes.”

  “Doctor said I’m good, Natalie.”

  “Same.”

  “No condom?”

  All she could do was shake her head.

  “Then sit,” he growled through his teeth.

  Speaking of eager young puppies, that’s exactly what she did—taking his thickness all the way home, not stopping until he shouted her name.

  Deep, so deep.

  Fragments of light exploded behind her eyes, her hips moving of their own volition. In a split second, they were fulfilling his promise of fucking like animals, her sex, never wetter in its life, bringing him inside over and over again, her butt slapping down on the top of his thick, hairy thighs.

  “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” he panted, fingertips digging into the meat of her butt cheeks, his lower body slamming upward to meet the breathless bucks of her hips. “If you squeeze up around my tongue that goddamn tight when you come, can’t wait to feel how you grip that dick. You’re going to ride it until I find out.”

  “Uh-huh. Yes, August.”

  Oh yeah. This was the new her, apparently. Obedient as all get-out.

  How else was she supposed to behave when this man had unlocked secrets to her pleasure that she didn’t even know were being held prisoner? He was magic. And his erect penis, God help her, was pure perfection. Normally Natalie would have called it too large. She had called it that at first glance. But the foreplay—the mothereffing foreplay turned that . . . eight? Nine-inch? . . . monster into a jungle gym. And it had a curve in it. She actually had to throw her hips back to accommodate that slight bow and in doing so, her clit rubbed against the solid, so solid base of his sex, turning her into a moaning, sweating mess.

  “There’s a lot happening on your beautiful face, but nothing coming out of your mouth.” He sat up suddenly and she whimpered, because every time this man moved, she found a newer, better angle with which to happily torture herself. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he demanded against her mouth. “While you’re fucking me so fucking good, Natalie, say what’s on your mind.”

  “I love your dick,” she blurted in a rush, holding on to his shoulders so she could maneuver herself even faster. “I love it.”

  His eyes were almost black by now, upper lip curled. “What do you love about it?”

  Why was she shaking so violently when she wasn’t even having an orgasm? Did this man give her pre-orgasms? Was that possible or should she donate herself to science? “It’s . . . y-you made me ready for it,” she gasped. “With your mouth.”

  “When I sucked your tits?” He spanked her hard and she screamed into his shoulder. “Or when I stuck my tongue in your pussy?”

  Actual moisture was beginning to overflow from her eyes, her teeth chattering. So good, so good, so good. “Both!”

  “Tell me the truth. You thought I would throw you into missionary, come in sixty seconds, and fall asleep. Didn’t you?”

  “Yes. No,” she babbled, rocking furiously in his lap. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Not with my wife.” Without warning, he flipped Natalie onto her back and drove her up the bed with one savage pump of his hips. “I’ll be earning the right every single day to come inside pussy this good.”

  The orgasm slapped harder this time and she soared, loving it, loving being objectified and fucked and revered all at the same time. It was in the way he leaned down to kiss her, letting her know with that cherishing stroke of his tongue that he would be there to take care of her when it was all over. That he adored her.

  She could feel that.

  He made her feel it.

  Now she wanted to return the favor. “You’ve more than earned it,” she whispered, scraping her fingernails along his scalp. Raked them down his back and his eyes glazed over. Then she contracted the intimate muscles between her legs and watched his control stumble, his jaw flexing, a stuttered version of her name tumbling out of his mouth. “Although . . .”

  “Yeah?” he asked hoarsely, hips moving faster. “Yeah, princess?”

  She positioned her mouth against his ear, flexed again, and buried her nails into his back. “Do you really need to earn anything when I want your come so bad?”

  “FUCK,” he bellowed, gripping onto the headboard with his left hand, yanking up her right knee in his other one. The bed creaked ominously beneath them, faster and faster, while he worked through his finishing thrusts, finally flattening her with a snarl and filling her with liquid heat. She took hold of his ass cheeks and yanked him in tighter, purring in his ear. He cursed, panted, and groaned through a renewed series of pumps, their flesh connecting and smacking, hands straining to touch, to gain purchase. From above, his huge body dominated her smaller one in a way she instinctively knew she would crave for the rest of her life.

  Moments later, they were nothing but a tangle of sweaty limbs, their labored breathing slowing in the small room. August’s mouth traveled along the slope of her shoulder, kissing her beneath the ear as his fingers twined themselves with hers. “Holy shit,” he muttered into her hair, sounding completely dumbstruck. “Holy shit.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Seriously, I should get a medal for staying hard that long. You . . .” He rolled her closer, nuzzling his mouth into her neck. “I’ve needed you.”

  “I’ve needed you, too,” she whispered, a sting creeping in behind her eyes.

  He lifted his head to frown down at her. “You sure that falling bucket didn’t hurt you?”

  Natalie felt herself plummet deeper into the feelings that had been building for this man and wouldn’t seem to stop, despite their very opposite objectives. Despite the outward reasons they’d married and the different directions they were heading. “I’m sure.”

  Her heart gave a heavy thud, so intense that she reached out suddenly for the glass of water on the bedside table, just for something to do with her hands. In the process, she bumped her laptop and the screen brightened. She barely noticed at first. Not until August tapped her bare hip. “Who is that?”

  “Who is who?”

  August pointed over her shoulder at the New York Times engagement announcement still very much visible on her screen. The glass of water paused halfway to Natalie’s mouth.

  Chapter Twenty

  Every time things between him and Natalie started to feel right, a snake had to slither through the grass, jump up, and bite him square in the testicles. Swear to God. As soon as her shoulders stiffened, he knew something was up. And he knew he wouldn’t like it.

  A significant part of August didn’t want her to confirm the identity of the suited, smiling golden boy in the photograph, because he’d already put it together. Central Park spread in the background gave it away. That fucker with the whitest teeth he’d ever seen was Natalie’s ex-fiancé. They’d just had sex so incredible that he’d heard “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” by the Beatles playing when he came and this was going to ruin it, huh?

  “Who is who?” Her question lingered in the air, her eyes zipping to the screen, widening, the glass of water stopping before she could take a sip from it. “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  She took a long drink from the glass and set it back down on the bedside table. “That would be my ex, Morrison, and his new fiancée.” Her smile was tight and brief. “I wasn’t internet stalking. Someone sent me the announcement.”

  “When?”

  Jerky shoulder shrug. “I don’t know, a little while ago.”

  It was all coming together now. His stomach pitched first, followed by the scraping out of his chest, leaving it hollow.

  No, not totally hollow.

  There was a big billow of green smoke wafting in, carrying jealousy on its back. Sticky, grimy, and impossible to escape. “A little while ago, as in, right before you asked me for sex.”

  “Asked you for . . .” She opened her mouth and closed it, nose wrinkling up. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

  August lunged off the bed to his feet, zipping himself back into his jeans with numb fingers. “You need me to spell it out for you?”

  “Apparently I do.” Her voice had grown louder to match his. “Yes.”

  Unable to stand the sight of Morrison’s smiling face another second, he crossed to the other side of the bed and closed the lid of the laptop. “You were feeling shitty about your ex getting engaged and I was a convenient ego boost.”

  That marked the first time he’d ever rendered Natalie speechless.

  And it didn’t feel a tenth as good as he expected it to.

  In fact, it felt the opposite of good. It was awful.

  She stared up at him for several beats, then seemed to blink back tears while turning her face away. “Get out of my room.”

  It took him a moment to find his voice. “Deny it.”

  “No, you have it completely right. Everything I said about having feelings for you was a big, elaborate lie so I could get some ego-boosting sex.” She stood up and shoved him toward the door, but he didn’t budge an inch. Couldn’t seem to move at all. “Doesn’t that sound exactly like me?”

  Nope.

  Nope, it certainly did not.

  Now she was covering herself with a pillow. Hiding from him.

  Apologize. Right the hell now.

  “Tell me this isn’t one of the reasons you’re going back to New York,” he growled instead, because he had obviously lost full control of his faculties. The green smoke growing thicker and thicker inside his chest was manning all battle stations. This finance guy was utterly perfect for August’s wife—who he was fucking in love with, by the way—and the whole time they’d been making love, she’d been sad about the asshat marrying someone else.

  She’d just turned him inside out in that bed and the possibility she’d been on a different page was eating him alive.

  “I am not required to deny anything to you,” Natalie said, lips barely moving. Uh-oh. Now there was a whole slew of snakes gunning for his balls, fangs out. “Nothing has changed between us. The original agreement still stands. We’re in this for the money and that’s it. Now get out of my room.”

  His heart climbed up into his mouth and he swallowed it, the whole aching mass of it getting stuck in his throat. “Once I’m out, it’s going to be really hard to convince you to let me back in.”

  “Oh, you have no idea, shithead.”

  “I’m jealous, Natalie,” he said hoarsely. “I’m jealous.”

  “You know what, August? I don’t care. You don’t get to say whatever you want because you’re feeling a particular way. That doesn’t excuse anything. You have to learn to take the information given to you by your brain and stop your mouth from interpreting it first.”

  “Because it hurts your feelings.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, then seemed to regret it. “No. Out.”

  More than anything, he was angry with himself in that moment. Pissed beyond measure. Frustration built higher and higher, any remaining thread of control slipping from his fingers. He couldn’t do anything right. Couldn’t make Natalie happy for longer than a few measly minutes at a time. Couldn’t do justice to Sam’s dream. Couldn’t interpret brain shit, either, apparently. What good was he doing anyone?

  Giving Natalie breathing room was probably the right thing to do, but he couldn’t seem to make himself leave the room. He simply remained there, an inanimate object with his hand on the knob. No, he couldn’t walk away. That’s what they’d both done at the end of every fight, since the beginning, and it had hurt their relationship every time.

  He’d lose her unless something changed.

  Her feelings were hurt because of him, and he wasn’t just going to abandon her.

  August turned around. “What can I do to make this better, Natalie?”

  Her chin snapped up. “Besides light yourself on fire?”

  “Preferably.”

  “I don’t know, August.” She sighed.

  “Tell me how you feel right now.” He ventured a cautious step toward the bed. “That seems like a good start.”

  “Mad.” For a second, he thought she might leave it at that, but she threw up a hand and let it drop. “A little empty.”

  A hoarse sound left him. And it occurred to him that storming away was definitely easier. This was the hard part. Hearing what he’d done wrong and how he’d hurt her. Was that what made a marriage last? Doing the hard shit? “Why empty?”

  “Because I was . . .” She glanced down at the messy sheets. “I let myself trust you and you didn’t trust me back. You made me drop my armor and then, I don’t know, it’s like I’m being punished for it.”

  Her words dug into him like slivers of glass. Christ, that was worse than he’d imagined. What would he have learned by now if he’d just spoken to her like this after all of their arguments? He’d be wiser than Doctor Strange. “God, I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” She laughed without humor. “That’s the thing. I know you’re sorry. I know that so many of your choices aren’t made to hurt me, even though they do.”

  So . . . many of his choices?

  What else was he doing to hurt her?

  He racked his memory bank and came up with nothing. “Natalie, what am I . . .” Out of nowhere, an idea lit up the nether regions of his brain. “I can read you the rest of my wedding vows. Will that make you feel better?”

  Was that reluctant interest he sensed? “There was more?”

  “Yup. Don’t move.” On a mission now, he jogged through the house, which sent Menace into near hysterics, and barged through the half-open door of his bedroom. Where did he put them? Where?

  Bedside table.

  August snatched up the yellow, lined piece of paper and ran back out of the room, skidding to a halt a few seconds later at the foot of Natalie’s bed.

  He cleared his throat dramatically, but she wasn’t ready to smile yet. Fair enough. He’d be lucky if she simply lost that hollow look in her eyes by the time he finished reading.

  Don’t ever hurt her feelings again, you son of a bitch.

  “You can call me no matter where you are and I’ll come. That’s where I left off, right?”

  She nodded.

  Good. He loved knowing she remembered exactly what he’d said at the altar.

  “Okay. Natalie Vos, I vow to hug you when you’re sad. Encourage you when you’re down. And take the blame for a fight if it means we don’t go to bed angry.”

  “No way.” She snorted. “It doesn’t say that.”

  He flipped the paper around and held it out, so she could see he was reciting the vows verbatim. “Read it and weep, princess.”

  She glanced at the page, then studied her nails, trying and failing to hide a glimmer of interest. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah.” He pressed a knee into the bed. Then another. Walking himself closer to her despite the growing stiffness in her shoulders. “If I ever make you cry, you get to give me a purple nurple. Says it right here in bold print.”

  “I’m not crying.”

  “You were close,” he said miserably. “I hated it.”

  “Don’t come any closer. I’m not purple nurpling you.”