He pierced her with a shadowy, haunted gaze. “I thought there was no ‘us’ to do anything to, Jen,” he said. “So is there or is there not?”
“There was,” she said softly, fists balled by her side as she tried to stop her hands from trembling, telling herself it was lack of sleep, when she knew it was him, it was Bobby, his nearness. The need to feel him touch her again, the fear he would and that she would lose herself to him forever this time.
“But not now?” he pressed. “Now there is only sex?”
She drew a shaky breath at the directness of the question, at the tension crackling in the air, as if the elements around them waited for an answer as surely as he did. She didn’t understand him, didn’t understand any of this.
“I’m not pressuring you, Bobby,” she said. “I’m not asking you for forever. I didn’t ask you to explain the past. You don’t have to do any of this. I won’t let our past ruin the wedding. But you keep pressing. I don’t know what you want from me. What is it you want, Bobby?”
10
WHAT DID HE WANT FROM HER? The question hung in Jennifer’s office for long seconds as Bobby drew a heavy breath, struggling to rein in his emotions. That she even had to ask him what he wanted ate him alive. But he’d been gone seven long years, home only a few days, and that gave her plenty of reason to doubt his intentions as honorable. She didn’t know what he did—she didn’t know he wanted to wake up next to her every morning forever more, to share the ups and downs of life with her. She didn’t know Bobby wanted it all. That he’d secretly always wanted it all. He knew that now; perhaps he’d always known it.
He pressed his forehead to hers, tightness expanding in his chest. “You want to know why I’m mad?” he challenged, their breath mingling as he returned to her initial question. He could almost taste the bittersweet tang of her mouth. “I’m mad because I had you, and I was foolish enough to walk away. Because you keep pushing me away, and I know you have every right and reason. Because I want more than your body, and all I can have is sex. And I need…” Raw emotion splintered through him, creating jagged, shadowy emotions. “I need.”
She slid into his arms as if she knew exactly what he needed—her.
“Bobby,” she gasped, her hands curling in his shirt, the sexy sound of his name on her tongue exploding erotically into the silence of the room.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, his fingers curving over her lush backside. “Say my name.” He needed to hear it enough to last a lifetime. He gently shoved his way inside her panties and then stroked her sensitive folds. “Say it again,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers.
“Bobby,” she hissed into his mouth, her tongue sucking his. He could feel her responding to the darkness in him, feel her looking for answers, for some sort of completion that words and seven years wouldn’t allow them. He kissed her, sliding his fingers inside her, stretching her, readying her. Moving his fingers with her as she rocked against his hand.
He nipped her lip and then picked her up, carrying her to the desk and setting her down. His zipper hissed as he opened it, and he shoved his pants to his knees. Jennifer quickly got rid of her panties. She spread her legs and scooted closer to the edge of the desk, offering herself in body, if not in heart and soul.
He ground his teeth in anticipation and slid the thick head of his erection along the slick folds of her body, probing, teasing. She stared down at the intimate view, as did he, the thrum of arousal fire in his veins. He circled the blunt head in the wet heat of her cleft and then captured her mouth with his, hot and hungry, and then pressed past the intimate folds of her body, entering her, and then driving hard and deep.
Jennifer whimpered and clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Bobby lifted her, filling his hands with her lush backside. Filling her body with the thick pulse of his erection. Their breath mingled together.
She rocked against his body, slow and sensuous, up and down, side to side; he guided her movements. But it wasn’t enough, not for him, not for her. Bobby used her weight, forcing her down on his shaft—harder, faster, deeper.
Drenching him with sweet, slick heat, she clung to his shoulders, her breasts pressed to his, ravishing him with sweet curves and soft moans. Again and again, he pulled her down his shaft, until she arched her back and hips, a sound of pleasure sliding from her lips just as she spasmed around him.