More Than Need You

by Shayla Black

  “I’ve missed you like hell, angel. One thousand two hundred fifty-four days without you felt like eternity.”

  She stiffens in surprise. Yeah, I counted.

  Then she seems to melt against me again. “I’ve missed you, too, Griff. No one makes me feel the way you do. No one.”

  Her confession pumps my blood, my need. Impatience to get inside her claws at my restraint, and I try to keep it together. This isn’t about me. This isn’t even merely about her. Sure, I could make her come in the next few seconds, then throw her on the bed and tear off those teasing undergarments before affixing my tongue to her sensitive clit and wring another orgasm from her two minutes later. Then I could start the process all over again. If there’s one thing I’ve learned well in the last fifteen years, it’s my way around a woman’s body.

  But I don’t simply want to make Britta feel good. I want to make her mine. I want to make the two of us one again.

  “You close?”

  “Why do you ask when you already know?” Her tone pleads.

  She’s reached the end of her restraint. I’ve reached mine, too. It’s been too long. I want her too deeply. We have too much at stake.

  I grab the thin strings at the sides of her panties and give a vicious tug. They break apart in my hands. Britta is still gasping as I tear her bra off. It’s probably ruined beyond repair. I don’t give a shit. As I cradle her naked breasts in my hands, I doubt she does, either.

  I kiss my way up her neck. Jesus, the smell of her skin mixing with her arousal is making my thoughts hazy, my blood savage. “Get on the bed.”

  She turns, looking at me with big eyes like a blue beacon in the shadowy room, lit only by silvery moonbeams filtering through the folding doors. The waves crash, mingling with the sound of her audible breaths as I jerk my pants down and grab a condom from the nightstand.

  I planned ahead. I’ve been hoping for days, weeks, that we’d be busier. I’m well equipped since I suspect she’s not on the pill anymore. If I had my preference, I’d go in bare. I’ve never had sex condomless with anyone except Britta, and I can’t deny that I would love the chance to get her pregnant again so we could grow our family and I could see it all this time, be with her from the first little plus on the home test all the way through her final contraction and beyond.

  Later. Soon. Hell, maybe even tomorrow. Once I get my ring on her finger, I’ll open the conversation and—

  Britta stops all coherent thought when she lies across the bed, props herself on her elbows, throws back her head, and spreads her slender thighs.

  I kick off my trousers with a curse. In my haste to tear them off, I think I broke the zipper. Who gives a fuck?

  With my teeth, I open the packet and roll it on as I balance my knee on the edge of the bed, catching myself above her, cradled between her legs.

  “This is going to go fast. At least the first time…” I growl. My voice sounds like I’ve been on an all-night booze-and-sex binge. “Ready, angel?”

  She wraps her arms around my neck, plants her feet on the mattress, and lifts her hips to me as if she can’t wait another second. “Stop talking.”

  If I could spare a second or a brain cell for amusement, that would make me smile. But I can’t. Instead, I reach down and line up the crest of my cock against her opening. She’s so fucking wet, and my eyes nearly roll back in my head at the sensation, at the thought that I’m almost inside her again.

  I stretch my body out on top of hers, sliding my palms up her arms until I’m curling our fingers together. We’re touching foreheads, bumping noses, tangling breaths. Britta lies beneath me, pinned to the mattress, unmoving, watching, waiting…

  I brace my knees for leverage, then thrust inside her with one deep stroke. Instantly, she gasps, twists, arches. I can’t stop my invading surge. Straining and undulating, she squeezes my fingers, gripping hard, and moans my name.

  When I’m finally in to the hilt, totally submerged in her tight heat, it’s all I can do not to pummel her like a jackhammer. She feels beyond anything I remembered, everything I’ve ever wanted.

  I pause, drag in a breath. I have to keep myself together and make this good for her.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” she gasps out.

  But she can’t seem to stay still. I’m gritting my teeth, trying not to rock with her yet so she can adjust to the feel of me inside her. And yeah, I’m savoring this hard-won moment.

  But she’s killing my control.

  “What’s the problem?” I murmur.

  She tosses her head, neck arching. All that sensuality I remember awakening once upon a time unfurls for me again. She’s beautiful, graceful, and so much woman I can’t wait another moment.

  “Fuck me. Please…” Britta sounds like she’s in pain with wanting.

  I’m not rejoicing at her demand. “I used to make you say that when you wanted me, but not anymore. That’s not what this is about. I’m making love to you, Britta. That’s all I’m ever going to do.”

  Sure, we’ll get raunchy and desperate and hungry sometimes. We’ll be in the mood to fuck, and there’s no way I’ll say no. But under it all, I’ll be making love to her every single time she’ll let me.

  Britta bucks up against me as she squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them to stare, gauge my expression. I feel her in the telltale tingling at the small of my back, which tells me I’m too aroused to hold out much longer. I feel her all the way down to my balls, already aching and full. I definitely feel her in my heart, where she’s filled every corner with herself and the promise of tomorrow.

  She’s mine again—body and soul.

  I’m going to take her so thoroughly she’ll never forget it.

  In the silvery shadows, her eyes soften. “Love me, Griff. Always love me.”

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, angel.”

  Then we don’t need words anymore. I cover her lips with my own and find my way inside even as I fill her with slow, controlled thrusts. Quick withdrawals, unhurried plunges forward. Methodical. Rhythmic. Torturous.

  Beneath me, Britta goes wild, heaving and wriggling as she whimpers and pleads wordlessly for more while giving me her all. It was always good with her, every single time. But this pleasure is agonizing, honed like a knife’s edge. It’s excruciating as it opens me up, takes me apart. And with every thrust, I don’t care. I have Britta, so I have everything I need.

  Beneath me, she’s fierce as she fights for the ecstasy we’ve worked so hard to share. It’s the bliss I plan to experience with her for the rest of our days.

  My senses zero in on her. Concentration narrows until there’s nothing and no one else. My thoughts scatter. My body takes over. Restraint evaporates.

  I turn animal.

  Propelling inside her with all the force in my body, I hammer her again. Again. Again. The bed sheets bunch. The mattress jumps the frame. Her nails dig into the backs of my hands. Her keening cries split the air. I feel her tightening. It’s getting serious. Dangerous. Inevitable.

  “Give everything to me,” I demand. “Give it. Now.”

  Her body jolts, freezes, then bucks wildly as I feel her clamp down on me, seizing me, as she shouts out a climax that comes from deep inside her. Sweating, I push through, plunging in, one stroke after another, as desire pools at the base of my cock, heats until I swear she’s burning me, then zips through my body in an explosion that not only staggers my libido but destroys my soul. I’ve just lost everything to this woman—body, head, heart. It’s all hers now. And forever.

  That makes me smile.

  My thrusts slow, along with our breathing. I finally release my harsh grip on her fingers and gather her up in my arms. I don’t want to move. I just want to stay entwined with Britta, attached and attuned to her.

  But I’m probably crushing her.

  I prop up on my elbows and look down at her face, caressing the skeins of her fair hair away from her honeyed face, glowing with a supreme look of satisfaction.<

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  “That was…” I don’t even have words to describe it. “Beyond.”

  “And more.” She nods with a suddenly shy smile. “It was everything I wanted.”

  “I feel so close to you, like we’ve managed to work past the walls dividing us.”

  A little frown that bothers me settles between her brows. “I hope so.”

  What else could there be? Sure, maybe we’ve both got some details we haven’t shared. But they’re not important now. We’ve taken the risk, found the courage. And held tight to one another again. “I know so, angel. We’ve been through a lot, but it was worth it. I love you.”

  She smiles softly at me once more, and my whole heart flips over in my chest. Everything about being with her—minus any of my usual barriers—has scraped me red and raw.

  “You’re right. Now…can we do that again?”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The sounds of waves crashing and the tapping of a keyboard wake me the next morning. I roll over and open my eyes with a scowl. I don’t want to face the real world after such a delicious night with Britta, of being inside her over and over. We made love in bed, on the lanai, against the wall… I couldn’t let her get two steps away from me without tangling myself up with her again.

  About midnight, I crept down the hall to make sure Harlow and Jamie made it back. They were both curled up in the queen-size bed, Jamie in a pair of Spiderman pajamas we had in his diaper bag, sacked out. I don’t hear noise now, so I’ll bet they’re sleeping in. We all should be.

  So why is Britta sitting across the room, typing and clicking on her laptop?

  “Angel?” My voice cracks from lack of sleep. “If I didn’t wear you out enough, come over here so I can try again.”

  She gives me a nervous giggle, then shoves her laptop away. “Just taking care of a few last-minute things… But if you want to muss me up, I should shower first and give you the chance to do it right.”

  When she rises, she’s wearing a clinging white silk robe. Through it, I see the beads of her nipples, the cinch of her waist, the curves of her hips, the delta outlined between her thighs.

  I already had morning wood, but now it’s not a reflex; it’s for real and ready. This woman does something to me every time I see her.

  “Come here…” I coax, crooking my finger and looking at her like I want to eat her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Actually, it’s not a bad idea.

  She flushes sweetly but shakes her head. “What if I play hard to get?”

  “What if I pin you down and fuck you again?”

  “What a bad man, always saying things to tempt me…” She shakes her head, tsking. It’s all playful, flirtatious as she walks past me, casting a come-hither glance over her shoulder.

  “I always will.” I rise from bed to follow her. I don’t care that I’m stark-ass naked. My raging erection is like a divining rod following her wherever she goes.

  I should be sated. Hell, I should be sore. Nope. I just want Britta again.

  “After my shower,” she insists, batting her long lashes. “You want me to smell good, don’t you?”

  She knows putting me off only makes me harder. We used to play this game. I called it one more thing… She would invent a task she needed to complete before we could make love. Then another and another—until I held her down, tore at her clothes, and fucked her breathless. I’ve missed this. I’ve ached to play with her.

  “You smell fine now. Like sex. Like a woman. Like I’ve been all over you. I told you to come here.”

  She reaches into the walk-in shower and flips on the water, then doubles back with a ghost of a smile. “You did. Oops.”

  Oh, she’s going to pay for that. The too-innocent expression she’s wearing tells me she knows it—and is looking forward to it.

  But as I saunter toward her, I see something else I couldn’t at a distance. The set of her eyes is taut. So is her mouth. She’s nervous. Worried.

  The games can wait. I close the distance between us and take her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  The lie is too fast. Something is definitely troubling her. After the night we just shared, how could she possibly be upset?

  I rack my mental checklist. She knows I love her. We’re great together. I gloved up every time. Jamie is fine, and if Britta was awake before me, I’m sure she checked on him. In my head, that only leaves our past…or our future. The former feels as if we’ve put so much of it to rest. How could it be a problem anymore? She finally believes I’m sincere about wanting only her for the rest of my life. And she has a functioning understanding about the reasons I’ve had trouble trusting.

  “I’m fine,” she offers and drops her robe.

  As it pools on the tile floor, I gape at her body. I don’t mean to. It’s just unavoidable. I see the girl who became a woman in my arms. I also see the changes in her body pregnancy wrought. Most of all, I see perfection.

  She scrambles my brain even more by leaning in and kissing me. It’s not a simple peck. Her kiss is a long press filled with something I don’t understand. Anxiety pours off her. Now I’m really worried.

  I pull back and take her shoulders. “Britta?”

  The smile she gives me is totally false. She’s hiding tears as she cups my cheek. “I love you, Griff.”

  I stop, stunned utterly silent. Is that what’s unnerved her, telling me? I’ve waited nearly two months to hear her say that to me again. “Oh, angel…”

  She wriggles gently from my grasp, gives me one last smile that isn’t happy at all, then disappears into the shower.

  And she leaves me standing there, so confused. I want to be thrilled right now. Fuck that, I should be exultant. But I can’t feel anything except gnawing worry until I know what’s troubling her. If it’s not our past, it must be our future. Does she think that, after last night, there’s any way I’m not putting that ring on her finger?

  I stride out of the bathroom and head straight toward my sock drawer. I can fix this. And I’m going to. The last thing I ever want is for her to worry again about the two of us. We’re solid. I’m hers. And I’m beyond eager to make it legal.

  As I round the bed, I see the bright screen of her laptop shining in the shadowed corner. Did something she read upset her?

  What’s on her screen is a hotel reservation. The Four Seasons. One phrase in big, bright text snags my attention: HONEYMOON PACKAGE.

  What the hell is she up to?

  I walk past it, turning the conundrum over in my head, and reach for the knob of the sock drawer. But those words keep poking my brain. Whose honeymoon? Maxon and Keeley have decided they would rather spend a few days alone in their new house than leave the island to enjoy their newly married bliss. Britta has no idea I’ve been planning a surprise wedding for us in six days, unless…

  I march across the room and snatch up my phone. Yes, I know Keeley and my brother just tied the knot yesterday. I’ll make my intrusion short. And I’ll do something deeply apologetic later.

  I dial Keeley. After a few rings, my bestie answers, sounding a little hoarse and breathless. “Griff?”

  Guilt hits me. I’m being selfish. I’m being an ass. Sometimes, it’s a reflex. “Sorry. One question. Did you tell Britta what I have planned next week?”

  “No.” Her answer is quick and emphatic. “I swear.”

  I believe her. Keeley is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. “Nothing slipped out? There’s no way she might have guessed?”

  “Impossible. We mostly talked about the frogs we kissed before we met our princes. Hey… Maxon!”

  I hear rustling, laughter, a growl. That’s my cue. I have what I need anyway. “I’ll let you go. Thanks.”

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