His fingers on my ass flexed. “Quiet.”
“But –”
He rolled again so he was on top, shifting his hips insistently until I opened my legs and his hips fell between.
“Quiet,” he repeated on a growl, “I’m about to fuck my wife and the only words I want her saying when I do it are ‘yes’, ‘Tor’, ‘my prince’, ‘baby’ and ‘oh my God’. Am I understood?”
God, he was bossy.
“God, you’re bossy,” I snapped.
He slid inside me and my neck arched.
Damn, but I loved the feel of him inside me.
“Cora, am I understood?”
“You’re understood,” I breathed.
His mouth came to mine and he whispered, “Good.”
Then he kissed me and started to move and for the next half an hour the only words I said were “yes”, “Tor”, “my prince”, “baby,” and “oh my God”.
Weak sun was touching the sky as my eyes drifted closed and sleep started to claim me.
“Sweets?” Tor called and my only answer was to press closer. He nevertheless heard my answer loud and clear and kept talking. “That cake was superb.”
My eyes opened and I saw the wall of his chest.
He’d made love to me then I’d gone to the kitchen, got a knife, cut a slice of cake and fed him with my fingers. Then I cut another one and he fed me. Then I licked his fingers clean. His eyes watched my mouth through every second of me doing it, they darkened in a way that was too sexy for words and when his fingers were clean, he made love to me again.
Now I’d had four orgasms, a piece of damn good cake (even if I did say so myself) and the man I loved was in my arms. And, according to my mother and finally paying attention, it appeared the man I loved was both devoted to me and adored me.
All was not right in my world but all was pretty freaking great in my now.
I slid my hand through the hair on his chest and replied quietly, “I’m glad you liked it.”
“‘Like’,” he muttered on a squeeze of the arms he held me with, “is not the word I’d choose.”
I didn’t think he was talking about just the cake.
I smiled against his chest and my eyes started to drift closed.
“Cora?” he called again.
“Yes, baby,” I whispered, not opening my eyes.
“Who are you?” he whispered back.
“Your wife,” I answered sleepily and burrowed closer.
“Bloody right,” he muttered and I smiled again then drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Only Hope We Have
The loud banging at the front door jolted both of us awake.
I blinked, rolled out of Tor’s strong arms and away from his warm body, feeling like I had an hour’s sleep (which, with a glance at the bedside clock, was close to the truth).
Tor had a different reaction.
He threw back the covers and growled, “By the gods, what the bloody hell now?”
With sleepy fascination, I watched him pull up a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms then, still with sleepy fascination, I watched him prowl toward the door then I suddenly was not sleepy or fascinated anymore because I instantly freaked out, threw the covers back, jumped out of bed and snapped, “Tor! Where are you going?”
He stopped and turned his head to me and I started searching for my nightgown and panties, found them on the floor and tugged the panties on in a flurry of motion, my head tilted back to look at Tor when he spoke.
“I’m getting the bloody door.”
I pulled down my nightgown only to see he’d resumed prowling and was out the bedroom door.
I raced after him, hissing, “You can’t! What if it’s Noc?”
Tor stopped at the door, lifted a big hand and pointed a long finger at my peephole.
“You have a tiny porthole,” he replied in a low voice, his blue eyes on me.
Oh.
Right.
I did. I had a tiny porthole.
The banging came back as he bent and looked through it then his head turned to me, his expression unreadable then I stopped trying to read it when I heard Phoebe shouting, “Cora! I know you’re in there! Open up! I don’t have all day.”
Phoebe!
My heart started racing.
She’d called last night. Now she was here.
I didn’t know whether to be terrified, happy or to brace.
My eyes refocused on Tor just as he unlocked the door, pulled it open and when he did, I decided my best option was to brace.
Then I saw my petite, dark-pixie-cut-haired, adorable-faced, gorgeous platform pumps with skinny jeans and kickass sweater wearing friend standing at the door, one hand raised ready to knock again, one hand holding a department store bag by the handles, body arrested and head tipped way back with mouth falling right open when she caught sight of Tor.
Oh boy.
She blinked then her eyes did a top-to-toe scan. They stopped on the way back to the top, arrested on his chest, she blinked again and I had a feeling she also started salivating (I had this feeling because that was what I did when I saw Tor’s chest) then her eyes slid all the way up, they moved over his face then she whispered, “Dude. What happened to you? You didn’t have a scar the last time I saw you.”
Oh boy!
“Phoebe,” I said cautiously, moving into my living room and her head jerked my way, her eyes lost their wonder and her face instantly closed down.
My heart clenched and I stopped moving.
I’d been right to brace. Cora had done something to her.
Really, really, God, really, I hoped I never met that awful woman!
She opened her mouth to speak but Tor got there before her, shifting slightly but the movement was hard to miss since he was a big guy but also because it was vaguely threatening and Phoebe didn’t miss the movement or the vague threat. Her head jerked back as her eyes cut to him and I watched her body go still.
“You are clearly an acquaintance of my wife and we are not unaware that others of her acquaintance are unhappy with her, or, the other her. What you must be aware of is that I will not tolerate you being unkind to her, that is to say, the real her,” Tor declared, Phoebe blinked yet again and I snapped, “Tor!”
He looked to me and asked, “What?”
I didn’t answer and this was because Phoebe whispered a shocked, “Your wife?”
I looked from Phoebe to Tor, pointed to my friend and said, “That’s what.”
“What’s what?” Tor returned.
“Your wife?” Phoebe repeated.
I walked three more strides into my living room, stopped and planted my hands on my hips. “You can’t go around telling everyone we’re married.”
Tor turned to me, crossed his arms on his chest, tilted his head slightly but dangerously to the side and
