“You—don’t?”
“You are my wife.” He pulled back his hand, and his expression turned wicked as he looked at her with heavily lidded eyes. “I want to get you pregnant. Now.”
“Now?” she said, her eyes wide. It was too soon. She hadn’t even had a period yet, since the birth of her baby three months ago. She shook her head. “I’m not ready …”
“We have eight bedrooms,” he insisted. “I want to fill them. I want the noise and joy of many children. And I want you as their mother.” As he held her wrists, holding her down to the bed, his dark eyes seared hers. “Let me fill you with my baby, querida.”
Callie stared up at him, feeling pinned to the bed. Was she ready to make that lifelong commitment to Eduardo that he wanted? Ready to be bound to him even further? Even deeper?
He pushed himself back into her, and she closed her eyes, gasping with pleasure. He felt so good inside her. Farther and deeper sounded like all she’d ever wanted. She tried to think about the decision that had to be made but her rational mind fell away as he gripped her hips tight. His huge shaft slowly filled her, inch by inch, sliding through her tight, wet passage.
She gripped his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin as she arched her back, her head tilted back. Her whole body was taut and aching with need for more, just a little more. She wanted him to fill her all the way, to ram himself deeply inside her. Her breasts swayed as he penetrated her. Her nipples were taut as he lowered his head to lick one rosy peak. With his rough mouth on her, his hips took decisive action. He thrust deeply inside her, all the way to the hilt, and she nearly screamed with pleasure.
But even then, reality intruded. She’d made this mistake once. Not again. Never again. Her fingers gripped into his shoulders, and she opened her eyes, pushing him back.
“Condom,” she panted.
For a long moment, he stared at her. Then his eyes narrowed. Rolling off her, he grabbed a condom from the nightstand and sheathed himself in a quick movement, rolling it down over his thick shaft in the manner of a man who’d done it many, many times. Then he climbed back on top of her. Anger seemed to seep from his body, and Callie licked her lips, wanting to repair the mood between them.
“Thank—”
He put his finger roughly on her lips. “Don’t,” he ground out.
Gripping her hips with his hands, he thrust himself inside her, all the way to the hilt. She gasped, forgetting their argument, forgetting everything as he rode her, hard and deep. A shudder built inside her, a tremble like an earthquake as he filled her, like an underground river bursting from the cracks of a dam. She felt tension ratchet higher and higher inside her, shaking her. Her head fell back as she held her breath, climbing higher and higher still. She closed her eyes as her lips parted in a soundless cry.
Then it was no longer silent, and she screamed, clutching his shoulders as she exploded.
A low, answering cry came from his lips. His hard, handsome face was pale, as if he’d held himself back by only the slenderest thread. But as she shook and tightened around him in ecstasy, he surrendered. He thrust inside her one last time, impaling her so hard and deep she felt split in two, and he filled her with a hoarse shout, his eyes closed, his face euphoric. Almost reverent.
Collapsing over her sweaty, exhausted body, he held her against his chest. “You will belong to me,” he whispered. “You’ll soon surrender.”
Turning toward him, Callie pressed her cheek against his bare chest. Her own heartbeat roared in her ears. As she drowsed in his powerful arms, exhausted and protected by the warmth and strength of his naked body, she knew it was already true. It had always been true.
Her heart had surrendered long ago.
CHAPTER SEVEN
CALLIE woke up with a start. What time was it? Was that her baby crying?
She rose blearily from bed before she was even quite awake. The moonlight had moved across her bedroom, so she must have slept. With a gasp, she remembered how her husband had just made love to her. She glanced back at the bed with her heart in her throat and a smile on her lips.
The bed was empty. Eduardo was gone.
She glanced at the clock over the mantel on the bedroom’s fireplace. Three in the morning. Where could he be? Why would he leave her in the middle of the night, after he’d so thoroughly reclaimed his bed?
Her cheeks grew hot at the memory of last night. He’d claimed her in a way she’d never forget.
Then her baby wailed again from the nursery, louder this time. She hurried through the adjacent door, turning on a little lamp shaped like a giraffe that gave a soft, golden light. She picked up her baby. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “Mommy’s here. I’m here.” Cradling her chubby three-month-old baby in her arms, Callie carried her to the gliding chair near the window. As she nursed her child, the baby’s complaints faded. Looking down at her, Callie was lost in wonder at her baby’s beauty, at the long black eyelashes she’d gotten from Eduardo brushing against her plump cheeks. One of her baby’s tiny hands gripped her finger.
We have eight bedrooms. I want to fill them.
What would it be like, Callie thought, to have a whole houseful of babies like this? To have a large family? An adoring husband?
Slowly her eyes looked around the cheerful nursery. It was warm and luxurious, but she would have liked to create her baby’s nursery herself, even with just a bucket of paint, a sewing machine and her own two hands—not paying someone else to do it, but doing it herself as a labor of love. Next time, she promised herself. Then stopped.
Next time.
Could she really stay married to Eduardo, knowing he would never love her? He knew how to make love … oh, yes. She shivered, closing her eyes as she remembered how he’d caressed her last night. Remembered the feel of his body against hers. The husky sound of his voice as he’d said, You belong to me.