Love Is Louder by Antoinette Candela, Paige Maroney Page B

more than I can bear.
    He whispers the things he wants to do to me, how every minute inside me makes him feel.
    “James, oh God...” There’s nothing but the sound of his voice and his cock plunging into me. My lips tremble as the tension mounts.
    “Yes, baby. That’s it,” he moans as my core ripples around his cock.
    He drives in hard so his cock hits the spot inside me that makes everything go blank, a white burst of light as heat mushrooms through my body, setting fire to my every nerve.
    His name leaves my lips in a hoarse cry. Colors burst behind my eyes as my body seizes around his, the explosion rocketing through my core.
    “Yes...baby…just like that.”
    My toes curl as he rolls into the last few strokes that take us both over the edge. With every thrust, he grows, throbbing hotter, thicker, harder, driving toward the finish he needs. His face is etched with determination, and his eyes are wild. He’s losing control as he hurls himself over the edge. Gripping my hips roughly, he buries himself in me one last time with a loud moan.
    Sated and breathing heavily with my arms still around his slick heated body and my legs wrapped around his waist, I look at him and his eyes burn into me, as if he’s branding me and all the fear and uncertainty I sensed dissipates.
    “That’s what you and black lacy things do to me.” James’ face is relaxed, and his eyes are dark and serious. He strokes my face reverently, pushing strands of hair away.
    “Thanks for the reminder.” I sigh softly, tugging at his hair.
    James grips my hips and nuzzles his nose in my neck, pressing into me one last time before I untangle my legs from his waist. He sets me down, still holding me up since my legs feel like Jell-O. This was how it used to be when the sight of one another would make us so horny we would end up fucking until we were both sweaty and breathless. Sometimes it was gentle and sweet, never looking away from each other, and other times it was rough, where all we could hear were our moans and the slapping of our bodies. There was no in between. I still feel those same desires, but I can’t act on my impulses, since I’m unsure of how James feels.
    Could we be turning the corner now?
    “I think my wardrobe needs an overhaul,” I tease as I finger a white dress hanging in the closet. “More black.”
    James scratches his head and laughs a deep, appeasing sound to my ears. His blue eyes soften as he traces his finger across my collarbone and lifts the hair off my neck. A rush of restless butterflies takes flight behind my navel when he leans down and brings his lips to the tingling skin on my neck.
    “Let’s freshen up and celebrate four years together as man and wife,” he whispers, his voice low and husky.
    I smile and stroke his slightly rough cheek, pulling back so that our eyes lock, wondering how my husband can go from being loving to being indifferent so quickly. I can’t explain it, and I don’t want to know the answer. The conflicting emotions overwhelm me, leaving me confused. The heart is stubborn. It holds onto love, even though common sense tells you it’s time to move on, but I just want James. I want us more than anything.

    The valet opens my door as James agilely rounds the front of the car, taking my hand and helping me out. I feel like the belle of the ball, just like our wedding day.
    “I’ve got my wife. You just take care of the car,” James demands.
    I right myself, adjust my short dress, and loop my arm in his, pretending I don’t hear the sternness in his voice. Instead, I focus on his hand on the crest of my back and the warmth of his feral body mere inches from my own as he guides me into the building.
    Pascal’s is my favorite high-end Italian restaurant in town, and tonight it is filled to capacity. It serves authentic Italian food, but it’s nothing like my grandmother’s cooking. The hostess greets us, letting us know our reservation will be ready in five minutes. James wraps