Unworthy Of You (The Spring Rose Bay Series Book 2)

by K. L. Jessop

  “Andrew, I’m so crazy for you right now,”

  A little grin tugs his lips. “We’re just getting started.”

  My hands fly to his hair as his tongue glides along my sex in long even strokes. I dig the heel of my shoe into his back and I’m awarded a groan. He’s persistent, eating my hot flesh as tiny beads of sweat pepper my lower back.

  “You taste better than I thought,” he groans against me.

  I feel delirious. My blood is blistering and my head is light. “I’m going to cum,” I gasp, gripping his shoulders for support as my body starts to quiver with another orgasm that is going to rip through me harder than the last. Holding my hips to help keep my balance, he kisses my sensitive bud and I’m left screaming his name as my body convulses. I come undone.

  Andrew catches me as he comes to a stand, and I wrap my arms around his neck to get my balance. I’m spent, but I know he’s not finished with me. I imagined it would be hot sex and climaxes played out over the early hours, only everything is happening so fast. And as he guides me to the back of the sofa, I know there’s no chance of a recovery, and this thrills me all the more.

  He stands behind me, pushing me forward over the sofa. He leans in close, his voice now a dark ravenous need.

  “Since the night of your truth or dare kiss all those months ago, I’ve tried so hard to forget the memory of you rocking yourself against me, teasing me with your girlish games to try and make me succumb to your desires, but the more I try to forget, the more I want you.” His hand runs down my spine to squeeze my ass as I rest against the cushions trying to regain my strength from the two mind-blowing orgasms. The clink of his belt and the sound of the foil wrapper tearing causes my stomach to clench with long-awaited anticipation. A moan leaves my lips and another shiver cascades when he presses his cock against me.

  “Andrew…”

  “And now, while you’re knee deep in lust and yearning, I’m going to show you exactly how you’ve made me feel.” He comes close to my ear. His cock teases my entrance as I’m pushed further over the sofa. Hot breath hits the soft skin and I grip the cushion tighter in my hands. “Every touch. Every thrust. Every cry that will leave your lips will be just a fraction of what I’ve imagined doing to this sexy fucking body you constantly tease me with.” It’s as though the first two orgasms were a polite warm up of what’s to come because now the growl in his voice is dark and needy.

  “Please,” I beg him.

  “Please what?”

  “Please show me how I’ve made you feel.”

  He grips my hips and slams into me. I cry out. He’s so deep, and I take a moment to adjust. “Oh, God, you feel amazing,” I breathe.

  As he starts to rock us, he shows no signs of holding back. His intense powerful thrusts have me gripping the fabric of the cushions so hard my knuckles turn white, hitting the spot over and over as I cry out for more.

  “So damn good,” he growls “You feel so damn fucking good.”

  Each hit is harder than the last, as though it’s a punishment for the way I feel around him. I’m lost for words. He’s consumed me. He feels so good that I’m scared for myself. I’m desperate beyond repair, my intensity for him blissfully murderous. But the more he makes me feel this way, the more I have to tell myself that it’s just one night—one night, one life-long memory—and it’s that which scares me.

  My orgasm rips through me like I've never experienced, scorching my insides and sucking the air from my lungs. No man has ever made me respond this way, and I don't think anyone ever will again. It's put me in the most vulnerable, the most dangerous, territory you could ever imagine, because all I feel right now is a desire that’s too overwhelming to comprehend

  Two more thrust and he’s growling my name with his release. My body is lax as I catch my breath, all my weight now resting over the cushions as he falls over me, snaking his arm around my waist to hold me close and peppering the gentlest kiss on my shoulder. My eyes flutter close with how delicate his lips are and a new warmth fills my stomach.

  I want nothing more than for him to hold me like this all night.

  But I fear it won’t last.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Andrew

  Both relief and regret flood my veins: relief because I’ve finally ended the prolonged dry spell, but regret because I’ve somehow brought her into the mix of my troubles. I’ve been trying to prevent that. Now I’ve just gone against everything that I promised myself I wouldn’t do and the feelings that now run through my body confuse the shit out of me even more.

  I should have pushed her away, but I couldn’t find the strength. With every breath, she drew me closer: her delicate whispers, the tenderness of her touch, my hands on her warm skin. It all penetrated through me and hit me full force. I’ve wanted her for months and fought so hard to prevent it, and I knew within a single touch and the slightest taste of her tongue she’d consume me like a heavy weight.

  There’s something about this woman that draws me in and half the time I don’t know if I’m drowning or coming up for air.

  I kiss her shoulder and pull out, disposing of the condom before slipping into my jeans. It’s late. After my day I’m exhausted, but I know sleep won’t come, it never does this time of night. It’s the haunting hours, the ones where I’m constantly reminded of that night six years ago. The one that sucks the air from my lungs and I find it hard to breathe. I’m hoping tonight will be different with Megan being near.

  “Andrew?” Her voice is as soft as silk, and my stomach clenches as I feel her close the distance between us. “Is this the part where you run out on me again?”

  I’m confused by her comment. She was so wet for me, so perfect. Starved with desperation and desires—for me. Now she looks anxious as she stands in only her bra, her skin is blemished from my scruff, her cheeks pink and glowing as her hair falls around her flawless body.

  Fuck she’s beautiful.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since the night I first stayed here, you’ve had a habit of shutting down on me and leaving me on my own. I need to know if you’re going to do that now after what’s just happened, because if you are I’d rather I leave first.”

  Is that the reason behind her one-night stands? She didn’t want the rejection so she walked away first so she never had to face it? My intension has never been to shut her out, it’s a way in which I try and protect her, only my guard has slipped quicker than I’d like. The lingering scent of her perfume, the softness of her skin and the feeling of her around me rekindle these unwelcoming, yet mind-blowing, feelings of need. She is everything I imagined she would be and more. Why would I leave her alone and naked now? I’m not that much of an arsehole. But at the same time, I can’t stand the way I’m feeling and I hate the way she’s fucking with my head when she’s not even trying.

  “Come sit with me.”

  I take her hand and pull her down to the sofa with me. She curls her legs up and trails her arm over my waist, resting her head on my chest as I pull the light-weight blanket from the back of the sofa to cover her thighs. I push past the rush inside of me, the touch of her skin on mine igniting fire throughout my veins. I’ve not been held like this in so long that I fear she’ll break me. She is breaking me.

  “Your heart is racing,” she whispers.

  It’s not just my heart, my mind is on overload, and the only thing that seems to be taking the edge off going crazy is her hold on me. I raise my hand to stroke her silky hair as we sit in a comfortable silence looking out towards the dark orange skyline. My heart and head might be racing but overall my body feels tranquil. The brick of tightness I constantly have in my chest has eased, and I don’t have to question why it has. Because I know if the woman that holds me should leave I’ll be suffocated with it once again.

  “Andrew?” she asks tenderly.

  “Hmm?”

  “Have you ever been afraid?”

  “Yes.” The word is out before I have time to think about my a
nswer. I’m constantly afraid. I was a child living in a wrecked world and with broken love and I was afraid. I’m a grown man that fights to fix his heart, yet the thought of it being repaired makes me afraid. Love. Happiness. Freedom. Future. The list is endless, but I don’t know understand why she’s asking me this.

  “Tell me something,” she whispers.

  I exhale as thousands of memories flash though my mind. “As a kid, I got scared most of the time. I use to tell myself that if my head was covered and my eyes closed nothing would hurt me, that all the bad stuff was on the other side and I would be safe and protected in my cocoon and my fears would disappear.”

  “What where you afraid of?” She’s intrigued. If she wants the complete list, we’ll be here a long time.

  “Lots of things; typical childhood things. Shadows, monsters under the bed, you know.” I do not want to speak of the darker ones, and I certainly don’t want to speak them to her. She’ll look at me differently to the way she already does and I can’t have that. It would be unbearable. However, I’m grateful she hasn’t pushed me to divulge more.

  “I was afraid of thunderstorms,” she says. “I still am if they are really bad. I used to cry outside Lucas’ bedroom door: the living room to my parent’s place was at the other end of the house and they could never hear me. That’s when Lucas and I became closer and eventually he’d spend most nights talking to me on the bed. If there was a storm he’d stroke my hair until I fell asleep.”

  “He made you feel protected.”

  Something I never had.

  “Yeah. He often told me made up stories of princes and princesses or Disney characters. That was until we reached an age where sex education was taught in school and his stories soon turned dirty.”

  I chuckle. “Oh, I can imagine,”

  “I never saw Cinderella and Pinocchio in the same way again.”

  My laugh rumbles unexpectedly from my chest and her shoulders shake with her own amusement. This sounds typical Lucas.

  “I like hearing that,” she whispers, tipping her head up to look at me.

  My eyebrows draw. “Hearing what?”

  “Your laugh. You should do it more often.”

  The only reason I’ve been able to laugh is because of her. She seems to bring out a side that not many people see—a side that I don’t show that often. She’s changing me, and I fear I won’t be able to stop it. But it’s more a question of whether I want to, because even though I fear that change, I crave it.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, unsure what I’m thanking her for but knowing it needs to be said.

  “For what?”

  “Being you. Being here. I don’t deserve it after the way I’ve behaved. I said some hurtful things to you, Megan, but you need to know, I never meant them. That wasn’t me.”

  “I know.” She takes my hand, smoothing her thumb over my reddened knuckles. My hand isn’t that sore but I still throw a hard punch. “But at the same time, you can see why I’m struggling to understand what it was all about. I know you have a history of some kind, and I’m not forcing you to tell me, but you can’t keep treating me like crap every time something upsets you. It’s not fair.”

  “I know.”

  “Why did you react like you did?”

  I could lie and tell her something completely unrelated so she doesn’t become aware of the truth, but I’m not that kind of person. Truth means everything in the world I live in. “I didn’t like the thought of another man’s hands on you.”

  “You almost sound jealous,” she whispers.

  “I was.”

  Her piercing ice-blue eyes flicker with something I can’t recognise as I lightly caress her jaw with my finger. Why is it that I’ve fought to keep her away yet now I’m struggling to let her go?

  Dropping my eyes to her lips, I edge closer, needing to taste her again. I brush my lips on hers. They’re soft and inviting. The warmth of her hand glides over my skin creates tingles at the base of my pelvis. Her fingers lace in my hair. I kiss her as if she were a delicate rose, slipping my tongue into her mouth with grace, savouring every second of our night together. She tastes like strawberries and tequila and the slow passion of our kiss is wildfire to my soul, filling my entire body with a warmth that is almost blistering. I shift her over me, roaming my hands over her body and unclasping her bra. Her head falls back when I suck her hard nipple.

  “Andrew.” The whispers of my name on her lips are the sweet music I’ll never get tired of hearing. Her hands move to the opening of my jeans and I lift my hips, removing a condom from my pocket as I discard them.

  I groan when her small hands take the length of my dick. I’m hot and hard. Steady and firm strokes send sparks to my ass and pelvis. I need to gain control or I’m likely to cum all over her. Taking her hands behind her back in one hand, I press my thumb against her clit, massaging her until she breaks and a light shudder shifts though her body.

  “I need you inside me, Andrew.”

  Rolling on the condom, she guides my tip to her entrance. She’s so beautiful. Her eyes are smoky with lust as she sinks herself down, inch-by-inch, filling herself with me. I growl against her mouth. I’m so deep in her. I’m lost in her and it’s so fucking good.

  I fear she will be my undoing, and despite how she makes me feel, I need to remind us both of what this connection can only be.

  “It’s just for tonight,” I whisper.

  “I know.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Megan

  When I wake the next morning, my body is satisfyingly sore, just like I wanted. Last night was perfect, a mix of tender conversations and hot sex left not only my limbs weak with how good he made me feel, but also my heart. I can still feel the presence of him inside me. The way we connected was mind-blowingly beautiful. However, my heart began to ache a little when he placed me into bed but slept in his own. I guess that wasn’t part of the bargain. Now though, I worry where this has left us. Will things be better because we’ve crossed the line that was smouldering between us, or will they be worse because reality will have hit him? Whatever happens I need to get a grip on my feelings as the rejection is going to hurt like a bitch. However, that doesn’t stop my smile when I see a fresh mug of coffee on my side table.

  The house is unusually quiet this morning, not that it’s ever buzzing with noise as he seems to like the silence, but when I enter the kitchen, there is no sign of Andrew. I’m clearly alone. A part of me feels disappointed as I’d had hopes of him wanting to forget about the one night rule and spend the day with me. I’d hoped we would go to the beach and let all our troubles wash out with the tide while we chased each other along the golden sands without a care in the world. Then I remind myself that life is no fairy tale and I certainly don’t think there’ll be one where Andrew is concerned. The man is a sexy, hot mystery who likes to be in control.

  Returning to the bedroom I slip into my new bikini that I refused to leave the shop without the other day. The early sun is filling the blue sky and a morning swim in the pool is awaiting me. I bite my lip and grin as satisfaction fills my stomach when, I see tiny marks on my skin from where Andrew grazed his teeth. The man is an animal and with a physique like he has I question why there’s never been any women in his life.

  My stomach churns at the idea of him being with someone else. I don’t want there to be anyone else because I want to be that person, and if I am only suitable for one night then why should another woman have his love?

  Love, who the hell am I kidding?

  Love doesn’t ignite after a night of multiple orgasms and smouldering kisses. I don’t even think lust has stuck around long enough to clarify it as that.

  The outside area to Andrew’s place is just as breath taking as the view from the living room. Designed in wood decking and stone, the clear blue pool is a mouth-watering sight that begs for my body. On the outskirts of the large pool, under patio parasols, are loungers and seating, and on the other side is a small, neat garden of
summer plants. The view in front is of the coast, perfect for relaxation whilst you fall into heaven at just how stunning this little coast is.

  The water is cool against my skin as I dive under, gliding through the water and powering lengths of the pool. I’m not one for full-blown exercise, and I’m certainly no coastal runner like Amelia, but swimming is the one thing I choose to participate in from time to time. The girls in school use to be jealous of how good I was, even though I never took lessons, and I’d always come top of my class when half the time I hardly even tried.

  As I dab my towel over my face and place it on the lounger I can’t hold back any longer: I text Andrew. I can’t get him out of my head and I’m intrigued to know if he’s thinking about me as much as I am about him. Maybe if he knew what I was doing he’d come back and join me.

  Me: I’ve taken the opportunity to explore the pool on my day off.

  Butterflies sour in my stomach with his immediate reply.

  Andrew: Are you out now?

  I can’t help but tease.

  Me: Yes. I’m just drying off. Or would you prefer me wet?

  Andrew: I’m clearly checking that you’re out safe.

  I smile. So, he does care.

  Me: So, are you going to come and join me? You can kiss the marks you’ve left on my body.

  I bite my lip in anticipation, but his reply makes my stomach heavy.

  Andrew: It was only for one night, Megan.

  ***

  Rixton pier is my favourite place to go when I feel low. The long mile walk with few and far between street lights is perfect for the sea breeze to blow the cobwebs away as the town illuminations simmer across the top of the still water, tonight this place isn’t doing anything for me.

  It’s busy out, the main street behind me is filled with families and young children as the echo form the entertainment centre and waves remind me the holiday season is just around the corner. Being here every day throughout year, I look past the fact it’s a tourist location because it’s now my home.