Conflict of Heart

Chapter 31

An ice-like astonishment seized Isabella. She felt her breath freeze in her lungs, and the burning coldness seemed to traverse through every vein and enter every cell until her body felt encased in ice.

On a breathless remembrance of oxygen, she gasped, "W-what?"

The warm muscled body hovering above her shifted, and her dumbstruck gaze flickered up to look into intense hazel eyes. His dark locks spilled onto his strong forehead as he looked down at her. His shoulders, having supported his weight for the better part of five minutes seemed no closer to tiring as he adjust his position to clasp her face in one of his strong, calloused hands.

"Marry me."

It was a demand spoken in such a strong, authoritative voice that Isabella felt her body quiver at the sound. Speechless, she gaped up at the man above her, the delicious warmth of his body seeping into hers, warming her, caressing her.

Her trembling fingers released their vice-like hold on his shirt, her mind reeling, desperate to make sense of the unfathomable situation in which she found herself.

"B-but you've always been against marriage," she squeaked, her voice betraying her to the confusion and surprise that tumbled in her mind.

"Not against it," Ryker replied smoothly, and she released a shuddering breath when she felt his hand leave her face only to find home across the soft skin of her stomach once more. Her body trembled at the feeling, and his heated gaze lowered to her lips. He leaned down, pausing when his mouth brushed against hers. "I've just not considered putting it on the table in a long time."

Her hands fisted the fabric of his shirt once more when he diverted his mouth from hers to trail a destructive path along her jaw. She blinked, trying to orientate her mind and not focus on the delirious bliss that he was giving her. "But a family . . ." she murmured, her voice inadvertently low and sultry. She bit her lip to keep any sounds of encouragement from leaving her throat. "You didn't want one."

She released a shaky breath when his large, roughened palm splayed over her stomach, his fingers stroking languid circles. "You changed my mind."

"I did?"

"Yes," he murmured against her ear, warm breath causing her skin to prickle. His hand drifted from her stomach until it was supporting the curve of her back. "When I watched you in that nursery, I couldn't suppress my feelings for you any longer. As much as I fought against it tooth and claw, your gentle, motherly affection over that child made my desires for you too great to resist. I wanted to see you with child—my child. I want to put as many there as you will allow."

Isabella's hands loosened their hold at his captivating words, and her fingers mindlessly began roaming down his shirt. Children. He was offering her children. Her heart leapt in her chest at the thought. "Adoption?" she asked, a breathy sigh slipping past her lips when he trailed tender kisses along her throat, edging down.

"Within reason," he murmured against her flushed skin, lowering until his body melded against hers.

Of their own accord, her fingers slipped beneath his shirt. Taut, heated skin met her fingertips, and for a moment, she was lost in the feeling of the deep, defined ridges and contours of his stomach. He caught her wrist then, his long fingers wrapping around the delicate joint in a firm hold, preventing her exploration.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Princess," Ryker's voice was a warning rumble from deep within his chest.

A blush coloured her cheeks, but her expression was dazed as she looked up at the ceiling above them. "As many as I want?" she echoed.

He lowered his body further, his weight now pressing her into the mattress. "Yes," he groaned against her throat.

Her thighs trembled against his. "We hardly know each other."