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Craving Resurrection

Page 45

   


“I didn’t ask your mother to say anything to you,” I snapped back, pushing against his chest so I could sit up to and wrap the flannel back around me. “Someone had to get me out of that fucking dress!”
“I told ye I wanted to take ye out of it. I’ve been fantasizin’ about dat very t’ing since ye stepped into de fuckin’ church!”
“Then maybe you should have listened when I said I was tired! Maybe you should have stopped for one second to think about me, your wife! Instead, you went back to drinking with your friends.” I choked back an angry sob. “Maybe if I hadn’t felt like a leper when my hands started to break out, I could have stayed outside and you could have helped me with my dress!”
We were screaming at each other, and it was absolutely heartbreaking because it was the last thing I wanted to be doing. What had I done? Why had I married this man I barely knew? Where was the Patrick I loved? Why was I in bed with this stranger?
I tried to climb over him, but he was up and tossing me back onto the bed before I could get anywhere. Our chests were heaving, and I wanted nothing more than to lock myself away from everyone and cry my eyes out.
“I hated not bein’ near ye,” he said, pinning my legs with his and bracing his elbows near my head. He reached down to grab my wrist and pulled it between us, inspecting my hand before letting go and doing the same thing with the other one. When he was finished, he kissed it before placing it against his heart. “It felt as if I was comin’ out of me skin when Mum pulled ye off to introduce ye to people. But at de same time, de closer we were, de harder it was to stop meself from kickin’ every one of dose people out of de fuckin’ house. I’m dyin’ for ye. I’ve been dyin’ for ye for mont's, and once I knew I could have ye, it was torture not to do so.” He leaned his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. “I was just tryin’ to distract meself wit’ de lads. Dat’s all it was. Just until it was over and I could have ye to meself.”
“You hurt my feelings.”
“I’ll try not to do it again,” he said earnestly, ghosting a kiss over my lips.
There was my Patrick.
“You looked so handsome today,” I whispered, lifting my hands to his face. “I’m sorry I threw such a fit.”
“I was an arse.”
“You were, but you’re not now.”
“Forgive me? I’ll make it up to ye.”
“Just don’t go out for a smoke or something and leave me giving birth on my own.”
“I’d never do dat.” He ran his hand against the side of my face, then threaded his fingers through the hair at my temple. “I’ll never leave ye again.”
“I love you.” There was forgiveness in my words.
He sighed into my mouth, his shoulders sagging in relief. “I love ye, too.”
His head tilted as his hips pressed down, and I spread my knees to make room for him above me as his tongue slid into my mouth. He groaned as I dug my nails into the back of his neck.
We were ravenous. We bit and licked and sucked at each other’s lips and tongues, fighting for the dominant position, but it wasn’t long before he’d gained the upper hand with a jut of his hips. We’d never had so few layers between us before, and my breath caught as he ground against my clit through our underwear. The feeling of him with so little between us incredible, made even more so by the lack of hair shielding my femininity. I could feel every single movement, every twitch and slide.
“I thought we were going to a hotel?” I gasped as he tore his mouth from mine.
“I cannot wait dat long.” He leaned back on his knees and pulled me with him, lifting my arms above my head so he could slide off my shirt. “We’ll go later.”
“But—”
“Me mum’s stayin’ at Kevie’s mum’s tonight.” He assured me, setting his palm on my breastbone and shoving gently so I fell backward. “She didn’t want to intrude on our arguin’.”
His smile turned devious, and then he was twisting around to shove all but the bottom sheet off the bed, mumbling. “We’re goin’ to need a bigger bed.”
My nipples pebbled hard as he turned back to take me in, and my stomach became even more concave as I tried desperately to catch my breath. He was all muscle. His chest was muscular, and it tapered down to a rock hard stomach with a light thatch of hair swirling below his belly button. The muscles in his shoulders bunched as he reached out, and I shuddered as he laid his palm flat on my throat then dragged it down the center of my body until he’d reached the band of my light blue underwear.
“Ye bought de fancy undert'ings I asked for.”
“Yes.”
“Dere gorgeous, but dere comin’ off.”
He pushed the tips of his fingers beneath my underwear at my sides and slowly slid them down as I raised my hips from the bed. It was a smooth motion, slow and steady, until suddenly, he paused for a moment before ripping them down my thighs. I was startled, my body frozen at the unexpected move, but I didn’t resist as he lifted one leg and then the other to pull the blue scrap of satin completely off.
He was staring.
“What did ye do?” he asked hoarsely.
The reason for his change in demeanor became clear and mortification set in. I laid my arm over my face.
“I tried to trim it.”
“Dat’s not trimmed. It’s gone.”