from his body. But he didn’t want a single night with her. And he wasn’t after the dog-and-pony show of dating either. Even with someone like Megan, he didn’t want to sink another year into a relationship lacking the authenticity of people who knew they were in it for more than a three- or four-hour window at a stretch. He didn’t want to see her at her best. Primped and prepared for some night of romance. He didn’t want to be waiting for the real to start.
He wanted the real right now.
And he’d had it. Until it spilled through his fingers like an overturned cocktail.
Now, no matter how he tried to show her what it had been like, tell her what he’d learned, make her feel the insanity of the connection between them...it wasn’t the same. Wasn’t enough.
She was going to fly away tomorrow. And nothing he did was going to stop her.
Jerking the tap off, he rubbed the water from his eyes and shook out his hair.
Then, wrapping a towel around his hips, he readied himself for the goodbye he was certain awaited on the other side of the door. Or more likely down in the living room. But definitely not on the couch.
Enough pussyfooting around.
He swung open the bathroom door, determined to face the music like a man—and rooted to his spot, stunned by the sight of Megan, swimming in her giant robe, feet tucked beneath her in the wingback at the far corner of the master suite.
“Okay,” she said, nervously wringing her hands. “I’ll be your wife.”
Megan was talking, but damned if he’d understood a word she said after I’ll be your wife. In a heartbeat he’d crossed the room and had her in his arms. Her mouth was still moving when his crushed down, silencing the words he hadn’t been able to follow. She could tell him later, when the adrenaline rush deafening him to everything but the roar of victory quieted inside his head. Until then, he’d keep her mouth busy with something more productive than talk.
Hands splayed over his chest, she pulled back from him, laughing even as he tried to follow her retreat. “Wait,” she pleaded, her hands moving from his chest to frame his jaw. “Wait, Connor. We need to get a few things straight before we go any further.”
Walking them back to the bed, he shook his head. “Later. Postnuptial agreement, whatever, we’ll work it out. Tomorrow.”
“No, that’s not what—” Then, twisting her head around, she looked behind her. “No, Connor. I’m serious. Not the bed—”
Only, he was already tipping Megan back onto it. “I know you liked the door idea, but give the bed a chance. You won’t be disappointed.”
And then his mouth was on hers again, his hand following the smooth line of her thigh to her bare hip. And hell, yes, she was arching into him, moaning around the thrust of his tongue, clutching at his shoulders and then his hair. Opening wider to him and following the retreat of his tongue with the light flick of her own.
She was so sexy. She was his.
And he was going to taste every...single...inch of her tonight.
His mouth was on her neck, his tongue sliding over the rapid beat of her pulse when Megan’s muffled curse, followed by an urgent wriggle and squirm, had him pulling back to meet her eyes.
“Damn it.”
Her face screwed up into a knot of acute frustration, making Connor pull back even more as, baffled, he watched her scoot from the bed.
“Now, Connor. We need to talk now. Because I can’t agree to everything. We need some ground rules.”
“Ground rules.” He didn’t like the sound of that. “Such as?”
Tightening the belt on her robe, she shifted her weight and squinted at him. “No sex.”
Connor’s teeth ground down as he drew a long breath through his nose. “You mean...tonight?”
But even as he asked, he knew the answer.
“No. I’m talking about at all. Through the three trial months.”
Forcing himself to laugh instead of swear, he shook his head. “Forget it, Megan. This is a real marriage we’re trying on, and sex is a healthy, normal part of it.”
“It’s too distracting,” she protested. “I couldn’t even think straight when you and I were—” her hand waved back and forth through the air between them “—on the bed. And I’m talking about changing the plans for the rest of my life. I need to be able to think.”
His brow furrowed. “You’ll have plenty of time to think, sweetheart. How about I promise not to ‘distract’ you when we’re discussing something important?”
“Yeah, I’m not sure your concession is going to be enough. When we’re together...even kissing...Connor, I can’t think enough to tell you to stop when my future is on the line.”
Okay, grinning like a fool probably wasn’t sending the best message, but damn, he liked what he was hearing. “You seemed to manage it pretty well...and more than once.”
“Barely!”
“Have I mentioned how happy I am you married me?”
“Connor, I’m serious—”
“I’m serious too,” he said, following her off the bed and taking her shoulders in his hands. “As far as getting pregnant goes, obviously we’ll wait until you’re confident this is the life you want. But sex? Not a chance. I’m going to seduce you, Megan.”
“I’ll say no,” she whispered, her eyes already drifting to his mouth.
“Fair warning—” his thumb moved to the pale pink line where her bottom lip became skin “—if you do, I’ll stop.”
She nodded, closing her eyes when the motion caused him to stroke across that bit of sensitive flesh. So pretty.
“I know you will.”
Her eyes opened, and this time she looked him over from damp head to precariously situated towel to toe and back again, as though steeling herself against temptation.
This was his wife!
The muscles in her throat moved up and down as she swallowed. Twice. Then those gorgeous blue pools blinked up at him, determination doing its downright best to put in a showing.
“I can resist you.”
Connor gave in to the slow grin pushing at his lips. “You can try.”
“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR ever-loving mind?” Jeff demanded, his outrage reaching through the phone as clearly as if the man himself had crawled through the line to grab him and shake.
“Would you believe out of my mind, over the moon and totally in love?” Connor asked, shouldering his carry-on as he left the airport newsstand.
“No” was Jeff’s flat, less-than-amused reply.
“Yeah, well, you’re right.” Sidestepping a couple locked in a passionate embrace, he scanned the gates and checked his watch. “I’m perfectly sane. Grounded, with my feet planted firmly in reality, and married to a gorgeous, sexy, intelligent woman who happens to be everything I’m looking for in a wife.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize you were looking for a gold-digging brainwasher, Connor, or I’d have pointed out the throngs of them throwing themselves at your feet for the last decade. What the hell happened, man. Did she drug you?”
Connor’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding down.
He’d known what people would think. The conclusions they’d draw. And he’d told himself he didn’t care. That neither of them would. Hell, Megan