The Love Series Complete Box Set

by Melissa Collins

  Letting my legs fall to the side, he lowers his mouth to my mound and kisses every inch of me. Soft, almost reverent lips float along the surface of my skin while his fingers return to their gentle motion. Pulling back my folds with his fingertips, he exposes my clit, and when his tongue traces along the hardened bud, I claw at the sheets with such intensity that I think I might actually rip them.

  Unable to control my body, Bryan drapes his arm across my belly to hold me in place while he devours me. Licking, tasting sucking—my God, it’s all too much. On one final plunge of his fingers and one long, broad stroke of his tongue over my clit, my orgasm rips through me and I shriek out his name.

  My skin flames and then cools as the waves of pleasure rise and fall throughout my body. Bryan pulls a blanket up over us and he lies to my side. Brushing the hair that has swept across my face out of my eyes, he kisses my lips sweetly. “I really enjoyed doing that, Melanie.” He smirks and looks thoroughly pleased with himself for having given me my first orgasm.

  Dazed and relaxed, I mutter, “Hmmmm. I really enjoyed that too.” I feel his chest rumble next to me as he chuckles at my response. Lying next to him in this unfocused and hazy post-orgasmic state of bliss, I wonder if this glowing and overwhelmingly warm feeling in my chest is love.

  But, I promised myself not to think—to just feel, so feel I will.

  Overcome by the desire to touch his skin, I trace my finger along the waistband of his boxer briefs. Peaking up through my long lashes, I meet his gaze. “Is it okay if I touch you now?” Instead of waiting for a response, I cup his erection and watch in amazement as his eyes roll back. The sound of him groaning my name makes my body crave him more—even though I’ve just had him.

  My touches grow firmer, more daring, and when I reach inside of his boxers to free his hardened length, I kiss and nip at his neck. “Melanie, I can’t take much more. Your hands . . . oh God.”

  When he starts pushing his cock up into my small hand, I know what he wants. I want it too. So I push his boxers down over his hips and stroke him from root to tip a few more times before asking, “Do you have a condom?”

  Please say yes. Please say yes.

  He rolls over top of me and presses me into the mattress. Reaching down to the floor, he picks up his jeans and pulls a condom out of his back pocket.

  Thank God!

  Kneeling between my legs, he tears open the foil packet and I watch in awe as he rolls the condom down over his cock. My eyes travel up the rest of his body and I’m amazed by how beautiful he is. His defined abs are accentuated with that glorious V etched into his hips. His chest is nothing short of a work of art. Perfectly muscled and lightly dusted with hair, I can’t resist the urge to reach up and run my fingers through it.

  When I look up to his face, I realize that he is staring at me with the same reverence. Could it be that we see each other in the same beautiful light?

  “Are you ready, Melanie?” His voice is soft and laced with gentle concern.

  I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck and pull his lips down to mine. Kissing him with as much passion as I feel, I say, “I’ve never been more ready.”

  I feel his tip nudging at my entrance, and then I feel his fingers relaxing me as they rhythmically dance over my clit—softening me, preparing me.

  Relaxed and oh-so-ready, he pushes into me again. “Ahhhh . . . Bryan.”

  “Shhh . . . it’s okay. We’ll take it slowly, nice and easy.” He lowers his body to mine, careful to sink into me as slowly as possible. It’s a weird combination of pleasure and pain. On one last push, he’s fully inside of me and then pain is quickly gone and replaced by the most deliciously full feeling I have ever known.

  His lips are on mine, hot and hard. I can tell he’s holding back; he’s letting me get used to him, but I need him to move. I need to feel him. “I’m good, Bryan . . . please . . . move . . . please, I need more . . .” My words are lost to the rhythm of our hips, to the beating of our hearts.

  “Melanie . . .” My name barely escapes past his clenched jaw and his pace becomes erratic. He hooks one leg up in a muscled arm, causing him to push into me at a different angle. With his other hand, he kneads my breast and tweaks my nipple. I arch my hips so that my back is almost completely off the bed and he moves his hand from my breast in search of my clit. Gently brushing against my sensitive skin, I feel the pressure building again. My insides tighten in ecstasy and he plunges into me harder and harder. “Ahhh . . . oh God . . . Melanie . . .” On one final thrust, he comes and collapses on top of me.

  I revel in the feel of his body pressing into mine, of my arms wrapped around him. When his breathing returns to normal, he kisses me sweetly and stares wildly into my eyes like he’s searching for something. “Wow . . . that was . . .” I think it’s the most adorable thing in the world that he’s lost for words.

  “Yeah . . . it was . . . perfect.” I run my fingers along his jawline and kiss him as he rolls to the side.

  Pulling the sheet around my body, I get up to go to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” I say as I walk away from him. “You better,” he says as he stands and takes care of the condom.

  Standing in front of the mirror, it’s like I’m looking at a different person. I’m not the Melanie I used to be—and I don’t mean the whole ‘not a virgin’ anymore thing.

  The Melanie staring back at me is more sure of herself, more confident, and most importantly, she’s in love.

  Chapter 7

  Saturday, January 26, 2013

  I’m brushing my teeth after my little vomitus fit of anxiety and I feel like I can’t even bear to look at myself in the mirror. Luckily the knocking on the door breaks me out of my little pity party for one. Bracing my hands on the counter, I rinse the remainder of the toothpaste from my mouth and hope for the best.

  When I open the door and see Bryan on the other side, my pulse accelerates and my heart beats wildly in my chest. It’s not just out of nervousness; it’s out of love and lust too. He’s hot, and no matter how many times I look at him, I’ll never understand how I got lucky enough to have him as my own—even if that time is now running out. His body is perfectly muscled, and even through his heavyweight leather jacket, I can see the clear definition of his upper body. He’s got the strongest arms I’ve ever felt—not that I’ve felt any other arms, but, well, let’s just say they’re pretty damn strong.

  I refuse to let my brain think about his arms—the other guy’s arms. I don’t remember feeling them anyway.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he croons into my ear and I squeal as he wraps those strong arms around my waist, effortlessly lifting me off the ground. It’s moments like these that I forget about my body issues. Whether I understand why he wants me or not, when I’m with Bryan, I feel feminine and pretty—I feel like every girl deserves to feel.

  His arms banding around me also make me forget about everything else—scandalous texts from ex-girlfriends and cheating.

  When my feet return to the ground, our eyes lock and I see a storm brewing in his. “What’s wrong, Bry?” I ask quietly as I gently brush my fingertips over his light stubble. My heart swells and breaks a little as he leans into my touch.

  He shakes his head in an effort to dismiss his emotions. “I told you on the phone. I just missed you,” he whispers as he leans in to brush his lips gently against mine. I can’t help but wonder if his sadness has anything to do with guilt like mine does.

  Having been together a little over four months, this is obviously not our first kiss, but it feels new on so many levels.

  It’s the first kiss we’ve had since I’ve cheated on him. That’s how I’ll always remember it.

  It starts out soft and innocent, but when he nips at my lower lip, I moan in pleasure. The slight opening that my moan offers up is all the invitation that Bryan needs to slip his tongue in to meet mine. He tastes like cinnamon and feels like heaven.

  The kiss rises in intensity as he cups the back of my head to pull me c
loser to him. The other hand roams freely over my upper body, from waist to shoulders and back again until his hand grips at the soft flesh of my hip. Bryan’s fingers tangle in the wavy mass of red hair that falls past my bra strap, as mine travel up the back of his neck causing the skin there to prickle in the wake of my touch.

  When we break from our heated kiss, I stare back into his deep-brown eyes and get lost there for a minute. “I missed you too.” My words sound shaky, breathless almost.

  “Yeah, I can tell,” he chuckles as he places a far-less searing kiss to my cheek. Brushing a piece of hair out of my eyes and behind my ear, he kisses my forehead and pulls me in the large circle of his arms for a tight embrace.

  We just stand there, in the opened doorway of my dorm room while partygoers walk past us to the use the stairwell. We’re both hanging onto each other as if we’re on the edge of some dangerous cliff. There’s a palpable pull between us, a magnetism keeping our arms locked around one another for fear of falling. I know, at least for my part, that I’m holding on because I know once we break our embrace and close the door behind us, I have to face reality. And I just don’t want to do that.

  When a group of extremely intoxicated and obnoxiously loud kids from the other end of the hall come stumbling toward the stairwell, I step out of Bryan’s arms and move to close the door. “Come on in. You said you wanted to talk.” I reach down and lace my fingers with his and he brings our joined hands up to his full lips for a sweet kiss.

  He tosses his jacket over the back of one of the stools that stand at the small kitchen counter and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him in a simple black T-shirt and tight, but not too tight, faded blue jeans. I try to drink in the sight of him, memorize every bit of him, because as we walk into the living room, it’s as if I can actually hear the minutes that we have left ticking away in my head.

  We sit on the couch and twist to face each other. Usually there’s plenty of room on here for two of us girls to sit comfortably, but Bryan’s large frame and long legs swallow up the extra room between us. I put on my cheery face, one I’ve used all too often in my life, and just hope that what he has to tell me isn’t going to crush me. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help it.

  He reaches his hand out and I willingly place mine in it. Brushing his thumb over my knuckles, he looks at me with the most sincere look of apology in his milk-chocolate eyes. Taking a deep breath, I know that he’s trying to put together the words to say what his look was just trying to convey.

  I think about mentioning the text that Courtney sent me—the one of the two of them making out, but I hold off on it when I see just how distraught Bryan is. Whatever he’s struggling with, I’ll let him choose the words. Guilt permeates my every cell and I swallow down the bile that’s bubbling up one more time. Feeling like I don’t have the right to bring up his indiscretions when mine are so much worse, I sit as calmly as possible and wait for him to say something.

  It’s torture to sit here and watch him struggle with his emotions, but the coward in me stifles my words. She’s beating down the person inside who knows that confessing my cheating is the right thing to do.

  He clears his throat, and finally speaks up while my inner coward hides behind a thick cloak of shame. “I’m sorry about winter break, about telling you not to come to visit me. I . . . it’s just that my family . . . I don’t really know where to begin.” Frustration consumes him as he releases my hand and runs his fingers through his silky-brown hair. He shifts and rests his elbows on his thighs. Hanging his head into his hands, he sighs but says nothing. He’s clearly torn about something, and my issues aside, I want nothing more than to comfort him right now.

  I pull his head up from his hands and turn his face to meet mine. “Hey, you can talk to me. Tell me what’s going on. Is it something with Emmie?” I brush a few strands of hair out from his eyes and kiss his lips tenderly, trying my best to convey just how much I want to be here for him.

  I feel his jaw tense under my hand as I’m cupping his cheek. “No. Emmie is fine. She’s great, actually.” He takes a deep breath and then blurts out, “My parents are getting a divorce.” He’s squeezing his hands together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white under the pressure. “They told me over break. My dad has been seeing some woman he met online and, well, now he’s leaving my mom. Can you believe that shit? Twenty-five years of marriage thrown out because my dad couldn’t keep it in his fucking pants!”

  Holy fucking hell! Did he really just say that? Of all the things that could happen to turn his world upside down—it had to be cheating! The Karma Gods must be having a field day with this one. Visions of the first time I met his parents flit through my head. His father was distracted and constantly on the phone on an “important business call,” but now I wonder if that’s anywhere near the truth.

  But I can’t exactly bring that up right now.

  And I most certainly cannot bring up the infamous Courtney text now. I can’t tell him about me sleeping with some other guy. Those words will have to stay dead and buried.

  I can’t focus on the irony of the scene unfolding before me for too long, because at just the mere mention of his parents’ divorce, Bryan’s entire body tenses and anger radiates off of him. My instinct to take care of him kicks into high gear and I sink to the floor in front of him. I kneel before him and wrap my arms around his waist as he remains seated on the couch.

  “Baby, look at me,” I plead with him as he tries to avert eye contact. But when his eyes meet mine, I can tell why. Unshed tears shine and shimmer. He’s trying to be strong, trying to hold it together, but he shouldn’t have to. For some reason, it’s easier for me to allow someone else to be weak. My own weakness, however, is a completely different story.

  I nuzzle into his solid chest and squeeze him tighter, if that’s even possible. When his hands wrap around my shoulders and his chin rests on the top of my head, I feel him exhale a shaky breath. “I just can’t believe him. I mean, my mom takes care of Emmie full time. He’s walking out on her and leaving her with nothing. He thinks paying for half of the medical bills and the mortgage is enough. Fucking prick.” I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything. I let him pull comfort from my touch and trace lazy patterns across his back.

  After a few minutes in uncomfortable silence, he says, “It’s okay. I mean, I’m okay.” His voice is uneven and it’s apparent that he’s pushing down his pain; he’s clearly not okay. My voice has sounded the same all too often.

  “Bryan, it’s okay to be angry. You don’t have to hide how you’re feeling from me. Please talk to me.”

  Maybe I should learn how to follow my own advice.

  I pull back from him and gaze into his eyes once more. There’s so much pain and anger etched on his beautiful face. From the moment I met Bryan, that’s what I thought of him—that he was beautiful. High cheekbones and a chiseled jawline provide a perfectly masculine structure to the rest of his face. But right now, his beauty is eclipsed by pain, and I want nothing more than to take it away from him.

  As he runs his fingers through my hair, I feel some of the tension in his body ebb away. A few deep, cleansing breaths later and he begins opening up. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you over break. I didn’t mean to put so much distance between us.” He looks down at me and softly grazes his knuckles over my freckled cheek.

  “I understand that now,” I say as I capture his hand in mine and bring it to my lips. Kissing the pads of each of his fingertips, I hear his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes widen; his pupils dilate. “Let’s forget about that for now. There’s no distance tonight. I think I have something that will help us forget about all of that.” I skim my teeth over the pad of his thumb and then lightly trace over it with my tongue, soothing my little love bite.

  His full, soft lips curve into a lazy grin as he traces the pad of his just-bitten thumb over my plump bottom lip. “What exactly did you have in mind, Melanie?” He arches an eyebrow at me and I return the
gesture.

  “Well, there would be some of this,” I say, as I run my hands up under his t-shirt. I can feel his abs tighten and flex under the light touch of my hands. Raising my hands up higher, over his finely sculpted pecs, I feel goose bumps begin to dot his flesh. Sure, we’ve been together before, but we’ve only had sex a handful of times. And having been away from each other this past month, it feels like I’m experiencing his body for the first time all over again.

  “I think I’m liking this little plan of yours, Melanie. Care to show me the rest of it in your room?” The pain and anguish that were in his voice earlier are now replaced by lust and desire.

  I stand before him as he unfolds himself from the couch. Bryan’s not extremely tall—somewhere right around six feet, but he easily towers over my less-than-average five-foot-five frame.

  He swats my butt as we walk toward my room. I leer over my shoulder and give him the “are you kidding me” face. Bryan just shrugs his shoulders and says, “What? I love your ass and I missed it.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him. “Missed it? Well, that’s nearly impossible. My butt is way too big to ever miss.”

  He slaps it again and narrows his eyes. “Cut it out. You know I don’t like when you talk like that.” On one last swat, he adds, “Now get movin.’” I just roll my eyes and drop the topic. He hates when I can’t accept a compliment and I try my hardest to keep my self-deprecation to a minimum, but in moments of nervousness, like this, deflecting is the easiest way to keep my insecurities at bay.

  And tonight isn’t about me. It’s about taking his mind off the shit-storm at home. It’s about reconnecting with him, if even for only a few hours. If only for tonight, I’d like to enjoy his touch once last time. It’s shitty of me, to want him without telling him the truth, but I can’t add to his pain.