A Second Chance at Love: A Hometown Hero Series Novel by Clare Connelly

tongue alone. She bucked her hips as her body was wracked with the unfamiliar sensation.
    “I don’t ever want to stop,” he responded darkly, lifting his mouth back to her breasts and driving himself into her hard, fast, with punishing intensity. She was so wet, and so ready for him. Her whole body seemed to cling to him, to beg him never to leave.
    “I want to touch you,” she moaned, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding him deep inside her.
    “No. You don’t get to touch me. You left me. Now you’re back. And I get to take what I want.”
    His words had a menacing coldness to them. But she ignored it. In that moment, she would have agreed to follow him to the ends of the earth.
    He paused, his body tense, as he reached for her handcuffed hands. He pulled at her finger, dislodging the enormous ring she wore. “And don’t wear the damned thing around me. I don’t want to see it.”
    Madeline was completely lost in the moment, but his anger was enough to make her stare at him, in complete confusion. There was so much more to him than she understood. So much more to them. He tossed the ring across the floorboards, sending hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of jewellery into the corner of his study. Madeline looked away from it. She didn’t care. Dean and she knew what their marriage was.
    “Do you love him?” He demanded, pulling himself away from her so that his arousal teased her entrance.
    She stared at him. “What?”
    “Dean. Do you love him?”
    She lifted her hips, her internal emptiness an actual pain.
    “What are you doing?” She demanded, lifting her knees, trying to pull him closer.
    His smile was cruel. “I’m not going to do this any more, Madeline. Not until I hear the words that you don’t love him. That you don’t want him like you want me.”
    She groaned, her whole body shaking with desire and anger. The secret she and Dean protected was too important to compromise. Even Harrison couldn’t know the truth of her marriage. “He’s my husband,” she said weakly. For their façade needed to continue at least until Kenneth had passed away. And beyond that, for as long as Dean felt the image suited his office. “I haven’t seen you in eight years.”
    He nodded, a strange expression in his eyes. He stood, completely naked, over her.
    “Where are you going?” She squeaked, as he moved towards the door. He didn’t respond, but a few minutes later, he returned with a white ceramic jar in his hands.
    “What’s that?” She asked, curious, but strangely completely trusting.
    His smile was loaded with emotion.
    “A new interrogation technique,” he said throatily, unscrewing the lid with his eyes on hers. He slowly tipped the jar upside down, so that a stream of amber liquid trickled onto her naked chest. She gasped as it landed, and the unmistakable scent of honey assailed her nostrils.
    He lowered himself back on top of her, and traced the honey with his tongue, drizzling it over her breasts, and tasting them until she thought she was going to pass out from the extreme rush of pleasure. He ran the honey lower, over her flat stomach, and then lower still, to her womanhood. But he didn’t taste her. He slipped a finger inside her and drove her almost to the edge, his eyes sparking as she began to tumble down the cliff without him.
    He laughed quietly as he removed his finger, and reached for the cuffs.
    “You’re tormenting me,” she accused raggedly.
    “I’m giving you a hint of the pain I felt when you left me,” he retorted, his eyes shining with intent. “But don’t worry, honey. Pleasure is inevitable for you, in a way it wasn’t for me.”
    He undid the lock and watched as she rubbed her wrists. They were chafed from where she’d pulled at them. Compunction assailed him, but he ignored it. “Are you still with me?” He demanded. “Or do you want to go back to the ranch and the husband your daddy picked for you?”
    She pushed him back onto the ground