The Marriage Trap
Page 18

His hand moved from one of her breasts and traveled downward, stopping at the top of her belly. “I’ve been dying to sink my fingers into you,” he murmured. “Are you ready for me?”
Her breath was a sexy whisper of sound. “You talk too much, Count.”
He smiled and slid his fingers into the swollen folds.
She cried out and threw her head back against the door. Her silky, pulsing channel closed around him and squeezed. He muttered a curse at her response, her need for him evident in the rush of liquid that soaked his fingers. Dios, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, so open to every sensation. He stroked her deep, curling his fingers, and hit the sweet spot as she pumped her hips and reached closer to the edge.
His erection grew painful, but her face was a creation of erotic beauty he didn’t want to miss. Her teeth sank into the swollen flesh of her lower lip, and her eyes half closed as she fought off the growing need for release. Her body bloomed beneath him, but her hands clenched into fists and pushed against his chest. Her endless need to control the result of every encounter taunted him to make her completely surrender. To him. To this.
He swiped the tight, pulsing bud once. Twice. Then lowered his mouth and sucked on her nipple.
“Michael—”
“You talk too much yourself, cara.” His teeth scraped over the swollen tip while his fingers teased mercilessly. Her thigh muscles trembled, and her heartbeat rumbled in his ear. Her glorious musky scent rose to his nostrils and he knew she was about to explode. For the first time, she belonged in the present, surrendering to her body, and open to everything he gave her. His erection throbbed, and the blood roared in his veins.
“Michael! Don’t, I’m going to—”
“I want you to come. Now. Come, Maggie.”
He bit her nipple as his fingers plunged one last time.
She cried out and squeezed him mercilessly. Her scream ripped through the air as she shuddered and arched against him, and he held her as he prolonged her orgasm, keeping her body against his.
She grew limp. He muttered soothing words and pressed a kiss to her temple, slowly removing his fingers. He’d been right about the chemistry between them, but nothing prepared him for the surge of emotion and connection that suddenly squeezed his gut. He wanted to lay her out on the bed and claim her completely. Spend hours in a tangle of sheets until she couldn’t think of another smart remark and only knew how to murmur his name. Where had such tenderness come from?
She lay still in his arms, her breathing returning to normal. He nuzzled her cheek and decided to carry her into the bedroom so they could talk and make love and—
“Well, thank goodness. I needed that.” Her cool, no-nonsense tone contradicted her slight shaking, but before he could soothe her, she gave him a push and scooped the towel off the floor, wrapping it around herself. She tossed her head and let out a long, relieved sigh. “Thanks. Do you want me to take care of you?”
Her flippancy cut deep. He took a step back, wondering if he’d been an idiot. Why was she so determined to act carefree when a minute ago she was crying out his name and clinging to him with a fierceness he’d never experienced from a woman? His gaze picked and shredded, but she remained perfectly at ease. And distant.
“Do you want to take care of me?” he asked coldly.
She shrugged. “If you want. Tit for tat. No time for a long marathon—I promised your mom I’d help her with dinner, so I have to get dressed. Well?” She raised a brow and waited. A sinking sensation told him he was in trouble. For a few moments, she belonged to him completely. Yet she was incapable of maintaining any sort of closeness. Why was he so bothered by her inability to connect? Why did he care?
“Why are you doing this, cara?” he asked gently.
Maggie jerked back as if smacked. She practically snarled. “Sorry if I don’t want to talk about touchy-feely things after an orgasm, Count. I thought we were past that.”
The silence simmered with unspoken emotion and words. Finally, he nodded, then shut down the blossom of tenderness like a delicate flower ripped from the stem. “You’re right, Maggie. I thought we were past this, too.”
He snatched the knob and opened up the door. “After dinner we’re babysitting. Since you were the one to convince Carina to break her promise to Brian, we will take over the responsibility.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Brian has four boys! I’m exhausted. No way am I babysitting tonight.”
He leaned forward with a menacing air and snapped his voice in command. “You will be babysitting tonight. We’ll go after dinner. Get dressed and meet me downstairs.”
He closed the door on her loud protest and stalked off with a hard-on and a boiling temper.
• • •
She’d screwed up.
Maggie peered at her fake husband from under lowered lashes as he fought with his bawling nephew who refused to go into the crib. Michael had rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, and his strong forearms flexed as the baby kicked and spit with growing fury. If she weren’t so miserable, she’d get a chuckle out of the scene. His normally cool appearance now showed a disheveled, tired man who looked as if he craved the couch and a remote.
And it was only 8:30 p.m.
The room looked as if it had thrown up. The cheerful yellow and blue paint with vivid sea animals sketched on the walls now seemed like a scuba diving mission gone horribly wrong. Crayon marked up the walls, books were flung everywhere, and stuffing poked out from a blue teddy bear that had been ripped apart in some sort of weird experiment.
“Is he still hungry?” she asked, taking a step forward and crunching on some sort of cereal.
“No. Lizzie said one bottle is all he needs to get to sleep.” The baby squirmed in his crib, wet drool pooling out of his mouth and ruining the third bib of the night. The playful ducks on his onesie mocked their inability to make him happy as he renewed his screaming. “Do you think he needs to be burped more?” he asked with a frown.
She blinked. “I don’t know. When Lily cries for too long, I just hand her back to Alexa.”
Michael gave a sigh. “Where are Luke and Robert?”
She shifted her feet. Somehow, she had a bad feeling about his next reaction. “Playing.”
“I thought you put them down to bed.”
“I did. But they didn’t want to go to sleep so I told them they could play.”
He muttered something under his breath and wiped more drool from baby Thomas’s mouth. “Of course they don’t want to go to bed, Maggie. But we’re the adults. Just tell them no.”
“I did. Three times. But Robert started crying because he wanted his mother, and then Luke joined in, so I told them five more minutes.” No way would she admit those crocodile tears broke her heart and she’d give them anything they asked for.
He huffed out a breath. “They played you big-time. Fine, keep it to books. Nothing messy.”
Maggie wondered why she was suddenly afraid to tell him about the Play-Doh. Wasn’t that kid-friendly stuff? That’s what the commercials always advertised. Robert told her his mother always let them play with the stuff when they couldn’t sleep.
Suddenly, she realized Michael was right. She’d been played. Big-time. No wonder they’d both been so excited when she took it out from the top shelf of the closet! She nibbled her bottom lip and decided to sneak back in and take it away before Michael found out. His directives began pummeling her faster than angry bees. “How about Ryan? Is he asleep?”
She blinked. “He kept popping up because he was thirsty. I gave him some water in that sippy thing.”
He placed a pacifier into the baby’s mouth and lifted his eyes up to God. “Don’t tell me this, Maggie. He wets the bed and he’s not supposed to have liquids after seven.”
She cut him a glare. “You didn’t tell me that. He grabbed his stomach and said it hurt because he was so thirsty. You’ve been in here over an hour while you left me with the sons of Satan. Let’s switch. I’ll put the baby to bed, and you handle the Outsiders gang.”
“Outsiders what?”
“Oh, never mind. Here.” She snatched Thomas from the crib, slanted him in a football stance so he hung loosely from one arm, and stuck her finger in his mouth. The cries stopped and he sucked on her knuckle like she was surf and turf. His eyes half closed in ecstasy. “See, he’s teething.”
Michael looked in disbelief at the happy baby. A blessed silence soothed their ears, until they heard a weird half yell from down the hall. “Stay here. I need to get Ryan and make him go potty again.”
Maggie watched the baby suck furiously. She always knew she’d make a terrible mother, and now the fact was proven. How did Lizzie handle so many requests all at once? This whole evening was becoming an even bigger disaster since she’d had an orgasm. How the mighty have fallen.
She paced and brooded. What was wrong with her? Maybe she needed therapy. A man gave her intense pleasure, tenderness, and emotional warmth. What did she do? Blast him away from her faster than a Buzz Lightyear laser gun and pretend not to care?
Because it wasn’t just the orgasm.
It was how she felt wrapped up in his arms.
For the first time in her life, she felt out of control. Way past her comfort zone. And she honestly didn’t know how to handle it. Her entire life revolved around controlling her relationships while she hoped to find the man who could feed her heart and soul. She figured she’d be able to break down the wall once she found her mate, but instead, Maggie began to realize she was way past the point of turning back.
She didn’t know what it was like to have a normal, real relationship. To give up a part of herself and offer it to another. Maybe it was too late for her. Because just a taste of what Michael Conte could offer rocked her world and the very ground she’d rebuilt herself on. So instead, she acted like a total bitch and deliberately hurt him. Her gut wrenched from the memory of the look on his face. The total disappointment as he stared at her dead-on and challenged the basic soul of who she was.
She had to get out of here. Cut the trip short. Do anything possible to stop the oncoming train wreck she saw hurtling toward her. But what if she woke up and discovered he was The One?
The one man she could possibly love. The one man who loved her best friend and could only offer her second best.
“Maggie!”
Her name ripped through the room and she winced. The Play-Doh? Or something worse? Her head hurt with all the instructions and fear she’d do something wrong. “What?”
“Did you give Luke one of those juice box things?”
Damn, which one was Luke again? All of them had gorgeous curly brown hair, dark eyes, and mischievous grins. Like the Three Stooges gone horribly wrong. “Yes!” she screamed back. “He saw Ryan get a drink and cried, so I gave him one of those.”
“Can you come in here?”
The yelling back and forth was getting ridiculous. She hitched Thomas higher on her hip as he madly sucked and picked her way around the toys down the hallway. “Talk to me like a human being, please,” she said, wondering why she suddenly sounded like a parent. She skidded to a halt and stared at the once clean kitchen. Five juice boxes lay discarded on the floor. Juice splattered the counters, refrigerator, and walls in a crazy homicide pattern. Luke shifted his feet and looked guilty. “Oh, my God, what happened?”