The Reluctant Wife: A Bodyguard – Princess Marriage of Convenience Romance (The Davenports Book 4)

My body begins to vibrate. I sense my second orgasm approaching. He slides his other hand between us and pinches my clit. My entire body jolts. My back curves, and my eyes roll back in my head as the sensations swoop over me and I climax. My face is wet with tears, and my entire body is shaking. I gasp for air.

‘That’s it, baby. Let go completely. You’re safe with me.’ His voice croons in my ears as I come down from the high. My scalp tingles, my toes curl. Even my teeth seem to hurt.

Another orgasm? That quickly? Jesus. I’m splintering to pieces, but perhaps, that’s what he wants? To flay me open so I’m at his mercy. I should feel vulnerable and exposed, and I do, but it feels so good. It feels like I’m being reborn.

I open my eyelids to find him watching me with a tender look on his face. There’s love and lust intertwined in a potent combination which warms my chest and ignites a pulse of pleasure in my bloodstream.

He reaches up to loosen the belt, and I lower my arms about his neck. Then, he begins to move slowly again, picking up speed, and when his pelvic bone brushes up against my clit, the telltale tightness in my lower belly signals the beginning of another climax.

‘Not again. I don’t think I have the energy,’ I moan.

‘You don’t have to do anything, baby. Let me do all the work.’ He picks up speed, holding himself up on his arms, biceps flexing, chest planes tensing. The sinews of his neck tighten, etched like cables under his skin. Sweat clings to his beautiful shoulders, a drop running down the cleavage between his impressive pecs. Once again, I’m struck by how chiseled he is. How sculpted. How God-like. And while I project a confident image to the world, I have often felt insecure about my tiny boobs and not-so-tiny butt. But he makes me feel good about myself.

He makes me feel worshipped. He makes me feel beautiful.

As if sensing my thoughts, he leans back on his knees, the angle causing him to sink even deeper inside of me. He hits that spot deep inside of me, and I cry out.

My body jolts with every lunge. My blood boils with such intensity, I’m sure it’s going to evaporate. My chest hurts, my scalp prickles, and the sensation in my lower belly curls into itself, growing tighter and bigger until it seems to fill every part of me and encompass my entire body. Still, he doesn’t stop. Long, smooth lunges when he sinks into me and hits my G-spot over and over again.

Damn, this man knows exactly how to drive me to distraction. And the fact that he didn’t let me come for so long, then rewarded me with not one, not two, but with a third orgasm that threatens to overwhelm me, is too much to bear. Then, he looks deeply into my eyes, and with a final thrust, growls, ‘Come, right now.’noveldrama

The climax crashes over me with the force of a wrecking ball. The sensations sweep me up and away. It’s so acute, so enormous, so powerful, I cry out. The orgasm blooms through me like a mushroom cloud which threatens to shatter me to pieces.

He holds my gaze, peering deeply into my eyes, and there’s this connection, deep, and potent, and profound, and I know I’ve changed forever. And then his features turn fierce, and with a hoarse cry, he follows me over the edge.

I shiver as I come down from the high. My arms and legs are numb—my hands and feet feel like I have pins and needles stuck in them. My scalp tingles. All of my muscles feel lax. I feel like I’ve melted into a puddle and won’t be able to move for a long time.

He collapses on top of me, the weight of his body pinning me in place, and I love that so much. He covers me with the musk of his scent and paints me with the heat that pours off of him. The drumming of his heart matches mine, and the throbbing of his cock inside me is a sweet pressure plucking at my nerve-endings and reverberating around the corners of my mind.

‘I’m too heavy for you.’ He begins to back away, but I hold onto him. I dig my heels into his back and shake my head.

I don’t trust myself to speak—not when what had happened between us felt so sacred, almost like an otherworldly experience. He presses his cheek to mine, and I sense him swallow as, inch by inch, he allows his body weight to sink into me.

My muscles relax, the tension squeezes out of my body, and my eyelids shutter down. I sense him kiss my forehead and pull out of me. I want to protest, lack the strength to speak.

I’m aware of him rolling out of bed and his footsteps moving away. A few seconds later, the sound of water running reaches me, then sleep sweeps me under. When I wake up next, bright sunlight pours into the room.

I’m sprawled over him, the thundering of his heart a soothing background. I push my chin into his chest and raise my eyes to find he’s watching me with a smirk about his features.

‘You don’t have to look so pleased,’ I grumble half-heartedly.

His arms close about me, and he pulls me up for a kiss, a soft kiss that deepens and grows drugging. His heartbeat accelerates, and his cock stirs against my waist. When we finally break apart, we’re both panting.

‘Wow,’ I breathe.

‘Indeed.’ His touch is featherlight as he sweeps a wayward strand of hair away from my face.

I rub up against the column of wood that’s grown steadily thicker and heavier between us. He groans, ‘I need sustenance before going another round.’

‘Do you?’ I dig the heels of my hands into his shoulders for purchase, then swipe my pussy up and down that very impressive cock.

His grasp around me tightens. ‘Woman, have mercy.’

‘Nope.’ I continue to grind against him, then cry out when he slaps my butt. ‘What’s that for?’ I say breathlessly.

‘Reminding you who’s in charge, baby.’

‘Like I can forget.’ I bat my eyelashes at him, continuing to swipe my clit against that velvet-sheathed shaft of his.

I begin to pant in earnest, that familiar melting feeling radiating out from the point of contact. I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing on those incredible sensations slinking up my spine and down my front, circling my nipples, my belly button, and my clit, oscillating faster and faster until it pushes me over the edge in a gentle swell. I collapse against him, and he holds me closer, running his fingers through my hair.

‘That was incredible,’ he rumbles.

‘Mmm-hmm,’ I say sleepily.

His stomach rumbles, and I chuckle, then laugh when my stomach decides to join in.

He pushes up and, holding me in his arms, steps onto the floor. ‘I hope you’re hungry enough to eat a full English breakfast?’

That was two days ago. He proceeded to cook breakfast for me, followed by lunch and dinner. We didn’t leave the house that day or yesterday. He fucked me every way possible. On my front, on my back, sideways, and on almost every surface.

Two full days of bliss, and here we are on the third day, seated at the outside table on the patio. It overlooks the infinity pool, beyond which, the waves shimmer in the early evening sunlight. I see a boat in the distance, one of the two patrolling the waters to ensure we’re safe.

Ryot told me Quentin and Tyler are on individual boats with their teams. They’ll keep a distance and they’ll be sure not to invade our privacy while patrolling the perimeter.

Every time I look out the window, I spot one of them. Between that and my husband’s presence, I feel secure enough to relax.

Now, he sets the table for dinner for two, complete with a vase of flowers he picked from the garden. Daylight has started to fade, and the colors of a glorious sunset form a perfect background to the dinner.

He serves us starters, then pours champagne into two flutes, one of which he sets in front of me.

He raises his own. ‘To us.’

I clink my glass with us. ‘To us.’ I take a sip, and the bubbles pop on my tongue. Zesty notes of green apple, laced with peach and raspberry, seduce my senses.

‘That’s so good.’ I take another sip and roll it round my tongue before swallowing it.

‘It’s from my personal collection,’ he tells me.

‘You have a personal collection?’

A flush appears across his cheeks. ‘Not something I’d admit to, except to you.’

‘Why not?’ I regard him with curiosity. ‘It’s normal to collect bottles of wine and champagne that you like, no?’

He takes a sip of the champagne and contemplates his flute. ‘You already know how much I hate that I came from money?’

He laughs, the sound self-deprecating.

‘When I joined the Marines, I didn’t keep in touch with Arthur for nearly three years. I tried my best to disown my background. But when my team-mates were wounded in war and found it difficult to adapt back to civilian life, I realized I could use my money to help them.

“I began donating to veterans’ funds to help them find a softer landing. That’s when it hit home that if I embraced my inheritance, I could make a huge impact.’ He rubs the back of his neck. ‘It wasn’t an easy thing to acknowledge.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ I run my finger up the stem of my flute. ‘Not when you’ve spent your life running from who you are.’

He looks at me with curiosity. ‘You seem settled in your role as Duchess of Verenza.’

I blow out a breath. ‘It’s different when you have a birthright thrust upon you.” I take another sip of the Champagne. “When I was little, I would dream of running away and starting life as someone else. But every time, Viktor talked me out of it.’

It’s my turn to chuckle without humor.

‘He knew how it felt, and the responsibility for him was, and is, much higher. It’s a crushing weight, knowing everything you say and do can affect your family and your country. It was either let it get the better of me or come out fighting.’

‘And you fought.’ He reaches over and places his hand on mine. ‘What are the chances that the two of us would find so much in common?’

I turn my palm and twine my fingers with his, feeling that connection between us grow stronger.

“Can I ask you a question?” His voice is soft, but something in his tone makes me wary. “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

There’s curiosity in his eyes, but I don’t see anything that alarms me, so I dip my chin.

“You’re not on birth control”—he clears his throat—“and you wanted me to come inside you.”

I flush a little and look away. “I might have gotten carried away in the heat of the moment.” I pop a shoulder. “I… I wanted to feel you inside of me without a condom.”

“And if there were a child?” he asks softly.

I reach for the glass of water and take a sip before I tip up my chin. “I want kids, and if there were one, I’d keep the child. But truthfully, I wasn’t thinking that far. All I wanted was to feel you without barriers.” Ugh, that sounds so irresponsible. But it’s the truth. “I know it must be difficult for you to talk about having children after what happened with your wife.”

His gaze shutters, and his features set into hard lines. Then he sighs. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk about this earlier, but being with you seems to blow my composure to smithereens.”

“Me too,” I say softly.

The silence stretches. I want to ask him what he thinks about having kids. I want to ask him if he’d stay married to me beyond the year he set as a timeline for us, if I did get pregnant. To be a mother to his child, to see him as a father, to carry his child… My head spins.

I’m unprepared for the surge of emotions that storm my chest. For the yearning that catches me unawares and forms a pit in my belly. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to have kids with him. Until now. I was too consumed with the preparations for the wedding and, before that, with the emotional upheaval from the anonymous note and the assassination attempt. Maybe, a part of me thought we’d get around to talking about it; perhaps, even hoped we’d last beyond a year. Now, I realize how much I’ve left up to chance. Because the thought of being without him, of not having children with him, opens up a crater in my heart.

“Hey”—he squeezes my hand—“talk to me, baby. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

I’m not going to beg him to love me. I’m not going to plead with him to realize what we have here is so much more than temporary. He’s going to have to figure it out. Hopefully, the more time we spend together, the more he’s going to find we fit so well, he’d be crazy to give that up.

He dips his chin and peers into my eyes. I’m sure he can see the turmoil on my features and how my thoughts are racing ahead, and I want to look away but find I’m helpless.

He reads my features, and his own soften. “I do want kids,” he says slowly in answer to my unspoken question. “And I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you. I just—” His Adam’s Apple bobs. “Just be patient with me. Give me a little more time to get over this…inability to trust in the future.” A tortured expression takes over his features. Then, he seems to get a hold of himself. “If I could, I’d turn the world upside down to give you what you seek, but I can’t make promises unless I’m sure I can keep them. You understand?”

I think I do. At least, I’m trying to. Even though a part of me wants to shake some sense into him and tell him that he needs to let bygones be bygones and move forward.

I’ll never find anyone else I feel so much in sync with. Someone who makes me feel comfortable and turned on, all at once. Someone who I feel knows me almost as well as I know myself. And in some respects, better. Someone who knows exactly how to take charge and please me in bed.

He gets me. He sees through the façade I wear, the mask I present to the public. He makes me feel important, like I’m all that matters to him.

There will never be anyone else who can read my mind as if I were saying things aloud, and that is so special. So unique.

Our gazes meet and hold, and that chemistry between us spikes the air.

The sound of the waves on the beach, the lapping of the water in the swimming pool… All of it fades. The skin of my hand where I’m connected to him tingles. An electric current runs up my arm. I feel the pull toward him like it’s a living force. I rise to my feet as if in a dream and walk around to straddle his lap. He places his hands on my hips, a curious look filtering into his eyes. He leans back in his seat, seemingly laid back, but his gaze is hawkish.

I bend and try to press my lips to his, but he holds me back. I try to lower my chin, but his hold stops me. I frown. ‘I want to kiss you.’

‘You don’t set the pace,” he warns.

I narrow my gaze, then reach forward and dig my fingers into his thick, silky hair and tug on it.

His lips twitch. Then, he raises his hands, curls his fingers around my wrists, and notches my arms behind my back. The position forces my chest forward, and my breasts jut out. I’m not wearing a bra, so I know my nipples can be seen through the almost transparent dress.

He rakes his gaze across my chest, and his pupils dilate. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he says in a gravelly voice, then leans in and closes his lips around one nipple. I groan and try to push more of my breast into his mouth, but he merely laughs.

What the— Before I can complete the thought, he bites down with enough force that I cry out, ‘That hurt.’

‘Good.’ He brings his mouth to the other breast and gives it the same treatment. Despite being prepared for the pinch of his teeth, it doesn’t stop me from shuddering. Another cry escapes me. My thighs hurt; my pussy feels so empty.

I begin to hump the ridge in his crotch, trying to make myself come again, but he shakes his head. ‘Oh no, you don’t.’

‘Aww, you’re such an unfeeling man.’ I pout.

‘That’s not unfeeling’—he rises to his feet, and I wrap my legs about his waist—’but this is.’

He walks over to the pool, and before I have a chance to figure out what he’s up to, he steps in.