Love So Tempting

by Marquita Valentine

  All she wanted was him. All she needed was him.

  The broad head of him brushed against her, and then he was thrusting inside of her, whispering in her ear how he would take care of her, how he would make her come again...

  “You look good on my cock.” He bit down on her earlobe and she shivered in his arms. “Anyone could see us right now, sweetheart, but I don’t give a damn. I want them to see me fucking you. I want them to know you’re mine, Mrs. Lawson.”

  She started at the reminder of what had happened only an hour ago, but then he rolled his hips and hit a spot so sweet that her toes curled.

  He curved his free hand around her thigh and lifted it up, curling it around his hip. The movement sent him deeper, and he groaned.

  She wound her hands around his neck, searching for his mouth. He gave it to her immediately. It was as if he could read her mind before she even had a thought.

  His kiss was in direct contrast to what his lower half was doing to her. While his tongue thrust into her mouth, his cock glided slowly in and out of her, creating a friction that gave her goose bumps.

  Her high-heeled shoes pinched a little in the toes, but she didn’t dare complain.

  “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. About filling you up again, about how tight you are... how sweet you sound when I—” He muttered a curse, as if his words were doing the same thing to him that they were doing to her.

  She was lifted into the air as he strode across the room, his cock firmly lodged inside of her. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To bed. Some fucker was staring at you. Couldn’t take it any longer,” he said, lowering her to the bed.

  He slid his arms under her thighs and began to thrust again, making her breasts bounce. His sexy eyes roamed her body.

  “I thought it was hot,” she said with a gasp.

  “What’s hot is the fact that I’m not going to pull out when I come.” He surged deep, and she grew wetter. “You like the thought of that, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “Can’t hear you, Lemon.” He slowed down

  “Yes,” she said, urging him to go faster with her hands on his hips. “Now, move it, Marine.” She need him to make her mindless, to make her forget all their problems and what waited for them at home.

  Leaning back, he began to rub her clit hard while he pushed into her over and over again. “Is that why you want me so badly now? Because I’m not a farm boy anymore, and I’m not just a librarian. You want my hands on you, the hands of someone who killed people for a living not so long ago?”

  Her eyes opened wide and she stared up at him, desire and bewilderment warring against one another. “No. I mean, yes... Where is this coming from?”

  Letting her legs fall to the bed, he stretched out on top of her, keeping his weight off her by balancing on his forearms. She turned her head and kissed the tattoo written in Hebrew near his wrist.

  “Ah, sweetness. You...” He kissed her again. “Ignore me.” He framed her face in his hands, stroking her cheeks with his fingers. “Sometimes, my brain gets in the way.”

  “Use it for good, then,” she whispered.

  His eyes closed and he began to move once more, sending her higher and higher until her body came apart from the force of her orgasm. She tightened her legs around his waist and he shoved himself deep inside her, his hips moving in short, hard thrusts as each hot spurt left him.

  He groaned her name and kissed her lips before his head fell to the crook of her neck.

  She stroked his back, whispering nonsense words of love and affection. That she wasn’t going anywhere, that he wasn’t a murderer, and they had created something beautiful.

  Finally, he rolled to one side and opened his eyes. She saw so many things in his gaze—her, his vulnerability and shame. While it was common knowledge his twin suffered from PTSD, Tristan never acted as though anything bothered him.

  Only that one letter he’d written to her had ever given any indication of the horror war had been for him.

  “Are you okay?” he finally asked. “I wasn’t too rough with you?” His fingers grazed her stomach.

  “No.” She pushed up a little and removed the rest of her clothes before settling down again. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

  His lips thinned. “No.”

  She brushed back his hair, and he leaned into her touch. That was a good sign, she thought. “How long do you think this will last?”

  “Our marriage or this?”

  “This. It’s like we’ve called a truce,” she said.

  Turning to his back, he shifted his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling. “For as long as I don’t let you out of my bed. Otherwise, I don’t have a clue.”

  “How romantic,” she replied.

  “How practical,” Tristan countered. Fuck if he didn’t feel like an asshole. Of all things, why had what he’d done in a war popped in his head while they were having sex? Worse, why had he given those thoughts a voice?

  Maybe because you’re not as healed as you think you are.

  Never thought I was. Only thought it wasn’t that bad.

  “I’m getting in the shower,” Lemon said primly. “Can I get you anything?”

  He sliced his gaze to her. Shit, he couldn’t even get that right. He should be the one taking care of her.

  Jumping to his feet, he said, “Don’t move.”

  Lemon’s eyes were huge as she watched him walk to the bathroom. He grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in warm water, before wringing it out and yanking the towel off the rack. In no time at all, he was at her side, cleaning up the mess he’d made and watching goose bumps dot the landscape of her skin.

  “Would you like a bath? I made sure to get a room with a huge tub.”

  “Yes, but it can’t be too hot.”

  “Oh, I’ll have to catch up on my reading when we get back.” He knelt beside the bed, dropping the cloth and towel on the floor so he could pay attention to her stomach. While he kissed her there, she sifted her fingers through his hair and made a little sound of satisfaction in her throat.

  He glanced up at her, but her eyes were closed. Her breathing slowed and soon, his perfectly prim beauty queen was snoring.

  With a laugh, he sat up, rearranged the covers, and climbed in beside her. Yeah, it was only seven thirty in the evening, but he was exhausted. Mentally, if not physically.

  She snuggled into him and he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her lemon scent. It amused him to no end that her perfume of choice was citrus-based.

  However, it terrified him that he was the father of her child... and her husband.

  But as the saying went, Once a Marine, Always a Marine.

  And Marines didn’t fucking quit.

  Chapter Nine

  “We can take our time going back,” Tristan said as he fed Lemon breakfast in bed. “I took a personal day.”

  “I’m not ready to go back,” she replied, taking a bite of pineapple. “Why would I want to leave this?”

  He laughed, and the sound warmed her heart. “I can feed you at home.”

  “Yeah, but there isn’t any room service so you don’t have to cook.”

  “I’m actually a very good cook.”

  “So am I,” she said proudly.

  “Are you bringing up the time you beat me in Jessamine’s Annual Fish Fry?”

  “Mayyyybe.” She grinned.

  “Tart,” he said with so much affection in his tone that her grin turned into a smile. “We both got beat out by Cecil Woods.”

  “We were robbed,” she said firmly.

  “Damn straight.”

  She giggled. “See why I don’t want to go home yet?”

  Getting up, he placed the mostly empty tray of food on the table by the window, then joined her in bed again. The sight of his muscular, broad chest never failed to elicit a dreamy sigh. His abs were the most lickable washboard she’d ever seen, while his arms had the kind of muscles that
made a woman want to wrap herself up in them.

  Then there were his thighs, his back, and his bounce-a-quarter-off-it behind. Gosh, she could get herself going just by naming the parts she found sexy about him, which was everything.

  Even his hair was sexy in the morning while his scruff felt good against her skin, and his eyes—those slumberous, come-do-me-now blue eyes were—

  She gave herself an internal shake.

  He focused his gaze on hers, and it was all she could do not to jump him.

  “Things don’t have to change between us when we get back.”

  Immediately, all her sexy thoughts were replaced by doubt. “But we always go back to the way we were. Are. Whatever. You know what I mean.”

  He tucked a curl behind her ear. “I think, at least on my part, it’s because that’s what is easiest.”

  “It’s easier to be mean?” she asked, her nose scrunching.

  “To one another other, yeah.”

  She thought for a moment. “You could be on to something.”

  Cupping her cheek, he gave her a gentle kiss. “We could be on to something.”

  “Yes, and we—” A shrill ringtone filled the air. Her eyes widened. “That’s my mother.”

  “Never been caught with a boy before?” he asked with a grin, then lay against the headboard while she grabbed her phone from the nightstand.

  “A time or two,” she said, and his eyes narrowed. His relaxed posture became tense. Was he jealous? Or was he flirting?

  “How many times?”

  “How many times did you get caught?”

  “Never. I was too damn smooth.” He winked at her.

  “You are so full of yourself.” With an eye roll, she kissed him and then answered the phone. “Hi, Momma.”

  “Lemon Anne McCoy, where in the world are you?”

  Her stomach dropped, though it shouldn’t. She was grown, for goodness sake. “At the beach.”

  “Oh, I was worried. Forgive me for being a mother. I called your salon this morning, and Juanita said you weren’t there. Naturally, I panicked and called you.”

  “Thank you, but I’m really okay.”

  “Wonderful. Now, you need to be home by six so we can have dinner with Mark.”

  Oh good Lord. She’d forgotten about the dinner party. Tristan’s hand crept up her thigh, sending every coherent thought skittering. “I’ll be there.”

  “Mark can’t wait to see you.”

  Automatically, she answered, “Can’t wait to see him,” before ending the call.

  Tristan’s hand froze on her thigh. “Who can’t wait to see?”

  One look at Tristan’s face had her panicking. He was ticked off. “Mark Smithson.”

  “You’re going on a date tonight?” he asked, his jaw working. “Wait, let me rephrase that. You are not going out with Mark.”

  “Okay.”

  “Furthermore—what?”

  She swallowed. “I said okay. I didn’t have a date with him, really. My parents invited him to the club to have dinner with us. I forgot about it until she called.”

  “Why don’t you take me as your date?” he asked.

  “I thought you didn’t want me to go.”

  “Yeah, by yourself, but since we’re married...we should go together.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t know.” Honestly, she wanted more time with him. She wanted to call her mother back and say that she couldn’t come at all so she could savor this time with Tristan.

  Her husband.

  But before she could tell him any of that, he was out of bed and getting dressed.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, sitting so breathtakingly beautiful in bed that he wanted to forget his righteous anger and spend the rest of the morning worshipping her body. But he couldn’t.

  He glared at her. “What does it look like?”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “Like you’ve got something stuck up your tail.”

  “At least I’m not ashamed of you.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

  “Then take me to meet your parents as your husband.” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her answer, which seemed to take an eternity.

  Finally, she spoke, “I can’t just drop that on them. I thought... I thought we would take our time, and see how things were going before we did anything else.”

  He fastened his jeans. “And in the meantime? Were we supposed to sneak around? Have undercover sleepovers or some shit like that? Damn it, Lemon. I’m nobody’s dirty secret, and I am especially not yours.”

  Her lips quivered, and tears filled her eyes. Son of a gun. Wasn’t he extra manly and righteous for making a pregnant woman cry? Not just any pregnant woman either, but his wife.

  “You sprung this on me. You and Apple were both insisting on your way.”

  “Don’t you dare put this on me,” he said and her expression turned stubborn. “I gave you the choice. Besides, you came to me, not the other way around.”

  “I know, and that’s why I’ll never—” She smashed her lips together and looked away from him.

  Never what? Love him? Like him? Only use him for sex? Did it matter? They hadn’t even been married a day. Yet, here he was, treating her poorly.

  Uncrossing one arm, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Lemon.”

  She turned her nose up at him.

  He walked to the bed and climbed inside with her, pulling her curvy little body against him. She was warm and soft. Nude. His body got hard, his erection grew, and his hands began to wander.

  And damn if she didn’t allow him to touch her.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said softly. “I’m nervous... and-and scared. What if we made the wrong decision?”

  For once, he had no words to give her, so he turned her to him and kissed her softly. Reverently. Like they still had all the time in the world.

  Her mouth parted beneath his and he swept his tongue inside, learning once more what it was like to taste heaven. With a groan, he pulled his shirt up and over his head, then pulled her close. The feel of her full breasts against him was an overload to his senses. Her hands went to his jeans, and he pushed them away.

  “In a minute,” he said, kissing his way down the graceful column of her throat. He licked her collarbone, nipped at the junction of her neck and shoulder until she squirmed before continuing on his downward path.

  He paid special attention to her breasts, massaging them with his hands while he took each nipple into his mouth until they were hard, greedy little points once more.

  She gasped, arched her back, and rubbed against him until he had to take off his pants. As soon as they were gone, he settled himself between her thighs, ready to make her come with just his tongue.

  “Tristan.” She sighed his name so sweetly that he rewarded her with a long, leisurely lick. Her hips jerked up and he shoved his hands under her, cupping her sweet ass.

  Dipping his head once more, he put his mouth back to work, back to what it did best around her, and made her cry out his name. He loved the sound of it and the way her lips formed the word, caressing each syllable.

  When she cried out his name for the third time, he pushed back to sit on his legs, taking her with him. Her hair fell in bright red curls over his chest and shoulders as she straddled his lap.

  Using his free hand, he grabbed the base of his erection. “Ride me.”

  Small, white teeth bit at her bottom lip as she attempted to sink down on him. He nudged the head in, groaning loudly at how tightly her inner muscles clutched at him.

  Her head fell back as his fell forward. He gripped her hips, helping her move, sending his cock deeper until he was fully seated within her.

  His eyes watered at the feel, at the sight of him disappearing inside her. Each time he withdrew, his erection seemed to grow. She placed her hands on his shoulders, using them for leverage as she bounced up and down.

  Every damn thing she did was
an erotic sight to behold. The woman couldn’t help but be sexy. While he couldn’t help but want her in every way he could have her.

  Wrapping one arm around her, he leaned back on his free arm and began to pump into her for all he was worth. The bed began to squeak and the headboard started banging against the wall, but he didn’t stop.

  No way would he stop until she came all over his cock.

  With a gasp, she clamped down on him hard, milking his dick until he couldn’t help but let himself go. Her hips rocked harder, grinding down on him, like she was afraid to let one inch of him escape.

  He gritted his teeth against the pleasure, riding it out while she rode him to completion.

  “You keep that up, and I’ll get hard again,” he said as her hips slowed but didn’t stop.

  “Promise?” She leaned back a little and gazed into his eyes.

  “I think I’d like to fuck you from behind.”

  “I think I’d like that.”

  He captured her mouth in a kiss. “Favorite position?”

  She started to reply, then turned bright red. “I don’t know.”

  He touched her cheek. “Have I been wrong in assuming what experience you have when it comes to men?”

  “I’ve only slept with you and one other person,” she said quickly and looked away, like that was something to be ashamed about. Except knowing her sisters, it might actually be something they teased her about.

  I think I was born into the wrong family.

  “It’s just a number, sweetness.”

  “But there are expectations that I don’t meet because of that number.” She let out a little puff of air. “My sisters think I’m weird.”

  “I think you’re perfect.”

  When her gaze finally met his, her hazel eyes were shiny. “You do?”

  He nodded.

  “Even though I don’t have the skills a McCoy woman should?”

  “Breaking away from tradition, remember?” he reminded her.

  Chapter Ten

  They didn’t come back to Jessamine for three days, and that, according to Lemon’s sister, was enough time for rumors to take root.