Second Draft

by C. M. Seabrook

He dips his head, blue gaze intense, and unyielding. His mouth is so close to mine. Just a breath away. I can practically taste his kiss.

  And God, he smells so good.

  “I’ll wait for however long you need. But I’m not going to pretend that it’s not killing me not being able to touch you.” His head dips closer, his thumb stroking my face. “All you have to do is say yes, sweetheart.”

  “I…” Am so freaking scared.

  “Say yes, Layla.” It’s more of a demand than a request.

  My mouth parts. I’m willing myself to say no, but the word doesn’t come out, just a shaky breath.

  Yes. Yes. Yes.

  I want him.

  Bad.

  And right now, staring into his intense blue eyes, I can’t remember a single reason why I’ve resisted for so long.

  I give a small nod, and it’s enough of an answer for him, because the next thing I know his mouth crashes down on mine, consuming me, tasting me, pushing me over an invisible edge where control and reservations are lost.

  His hands are tangled in my hair, his hard body pressed against mine, his mouth and tongue teasing mine, spurring my own wild desire.

  A small whimper escapes my lips, and he growls, deepening the kiss.

  Fire. It burns through me. My skin is alight with it.

  It’s more than just a kiss. He’s marking me, claiming me.

  My palms are on his chest, and I feel the raging beat of his heart, proof that he’s just as aroused as I am.

  His hold is possessive, his kiss merciless.

  “My God, Layla. What you do to me.” His tongue sweeps over my swollen lips.

  He pulls back, his breathing ragged, nostrils flaring, and a primal hunger burning in his eyes.

  “Let’s go.” His voice drops an octave. One large hand wraps around my waist, guiding me out of the room, through the building, and towards the parking lot.

  He’s silent all the way to the car, but his hands are on me, possessive and tight. The look on his face unreadable. I swear he’d toss me over his shoulder and carry me to the car if there weren’t a handful of people watching.

  I have no idea what he’s thinking. Why he’s gone all dark and broody.

  When he opens the car door for me, I blink up at him. “Carter–”

  “Get in the car, Layla.” His voice rumbles through me.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home.” His hands rest on the hood of the car, trapping me, as he leans in and whispers in my ear, his voice rough and dripping with need, “Our home. And I’m going to show just how mine you really are.”

  Chapter 18

  Carter

  Layla is quiet the entire drive back to the house. She keeps glancing at me from the corner of her eyes, like she’s expecting me to pull over at any moment and rip her clothes off.

  I’ll admit, the thought crossed my mind. It took all my restraint not to take her in the goddamn exam room.

  That small nod. It’s all the confirmation I needed. She may not know exactly what she agreed to, but I plan to show her – today.

  She’s afraid of me. I can see it in her eyes. Maybe not of me. But of the way I make her feel. Of what I’m offering her.

  There’s a lot of things I’ve learned about her over the past few weeks, and one of them is that she doesn’t believe she deserves to be happy. That much is obvious. But I’m going to show her differently. Make her see how fucking special she really is.

  She’s fidgeting, her fingers nervously picking at some imaginary spot on her shirt. I take her hand, wrapping my own much larger one around it, and hold it tight until we pull into the driveway.

  I hear her hard swallow, feel her body tremble as her gaze goes to the house.

  “You have nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart.” I squeeze her hand once before releasing it and getting out of the car.

  It takes her a few seconds before she follows my lead.

  There’s so much hesitancy in her expression now, and when I shut the front door, I know that if I don’t make a move, she’s going to run.

  And we’ll be taking three steps backward.

  Not happening.

  “Come here.” I take her hand, pulling her towards me, then wrap one arm around her, my other hand cradling the back of her head.

  She chews on her bottom lip, gaze trained on my chest, brows drawn down.

  “Look at me, Layla.” I move my hand down, placing my palm on her lower back, and slowly her eyes raise to meet mine. That’s better. Soft brown eyes blink up at me.

  Yes, there’s fear, but there’s also need reflected there.

  And trust.

  The one thing I’ve been waiting for.

  I stroke my knuckles across her cheek, down her neck and across her collarbone, feeling her tremble and watching her eyes close slightly, her lips parting in an inaudible sigh.

  Awareness speaks between us. Making me feel things I know I’ve never felt before.

  My God, she completely undoes me.

  “So beautiful,” I whisper, leaning down and lightly brushing my lips against hers. “I want to touch you. Every part of you. I want my mouth on yours. On your skin…” Nipping gently at her ear, I growl, “On your body.”

  The sound, half-moan, half-whimper, that vibrates in her throat has my balls rock hard against my body. There won’t be a part of her that I don’t own when I’m finished.

  “Carter,” she murmurs, melting against me.

  My entire body is tight, the frenzied need to pull my cock out and take her hard and fast right here in the damn foyer, overwhelming. I can’t help the feral groan that escapes my lips. Hearing her say my name, the way it’s almost a plea, does all sorts of things to me.

  “I want you.”

  I almost lose it completely with her admission.

  Leaning down, I scoop her up in my arms, and she lets out a small squeal.

  “Bed,” I growl out, starting up the stairs, two at a time. “Now.”

  Her lips twitch up, and I can almost feel the laugh she’s holding in.

  “What?” I kick my bedroom door open with my foot, shutting it behind me.

  “You’re just all…” She licks her lips, and runs her fingers across the scruff on my cheek.

  It’s one of the first caresses she’s initiated and it does something to me.

  “All what?” I demand, placing her on the bed and hovering over her, palms flat on either side of her head.

  “Alpha male.”

  I chuckle, “You have no idea, sweetheart.”

  “Then show me.” Her fingers tug at the hem of my shirt, then slip beneath, trailing up my abs and chest.

  This time I can’t control the growl that leaves my throat.

  God. I want to sink straight into her.

  I reach back and pull my shirt over my head, then toss it to the floor, while she tugs at my belt. When her fingers start for the zipper, I grip her wrists. “Slow down, Love. As much as I want to devour you right now, I also want to take my time. Memorize every inch of you.”

  “Your words,” she says against my lips with I kiss her again. “How am I supposed to resist you?”

  “You’re not.” I kiss her hard once more, before pulling back and kneeling on the bed. I take her wrists and pull her up, so that she’s mirroring me, and place her hands on my chest, on the ink that she’s always stealing glances at when she thinks I’m not looking.

  Her gaze skims the patterns, then her fingers begin tracing the designs, and a small smile tugs at her lips, her eyes filled with appreciation.

  “They’re beautiful,” she says softly, her touch sending heat burning through my body.

  My fingers skim under her shirt, cupping one breast over the fabric of her lacey bra. “You’re beautiful.”

  She moans and my mouth crashes down on hers once more, and arms wrap around my neck, fingers burying in my hair. Needing to remove the barriers between us, I pull her shirt off, then unclasp the back of her bra, discarding them q
uickly, before starting on the button of her pants.

  “Lie down,” I demand, pushing her back against the bed. I slide my fingers under the material, hooking my thumb on her panties, then drag my hands down her legs, removing the remaining obstructions.

  Pushing her knees apart with my own, I kneel above her, taking in her perfection.

  She watches me, wariness returning with self-consciousness.

  “Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?” I ask, taking one breast in my palm and the other in my mouth, the nipples pebbling against my touch.

  “You make me feel beautiful.” Her back arches to receive my touch, her legs relaxing and opening wider so that I can feel the warmth of her pussy against my chest, and she wiggles beneath me, her body demanding more.

  Holy hell, but she makes me crazy with lust.

  Those breasts, those curves, that soft milky skin, she’s more than beautiful, she’s a fucking goddess.

  I drag my hand down the soft curve of her stomach, resting there for moment, with the reminder of the child she’s carrying.

  My child. No, it may not be mine biologically, but I’ll be the one who raises it. And if I get my way, which I will, I’ll be the one it calls Daddy.

  Shifting between her legs, I press my lips where my hand had been moments before and feel her still, her muscles tightening slightly.

  “Mine,” I growl against her stomach, watching her eyes widen slightly. See the small flicker of hope there. “Both of you.”

  She bites down on her lip and gives a small nod, and my chest swells.

  This is what I want. What I’ve been longing for. I clench my jaw, a deep sound of pleasure leaving me.

  Trailing a kiss down, I stroke the inside of her thigh until she opens wider for me, letting me trail my tongue across the slit of her pussy.

  She moans, twisting, and lifting her hips towards my touch. I slip one finger in and she gasps, then lets out sounds of pleasure when I find her sensitive nub with my mouth, flicking my tongue over it and making her squirm even more.

  Sliding one more finger inside her, I feel her walls clench around me. She’s so damn tight and wet. And my cock is pulsating against the rough fabric of my pants, demanding entrance.

  Patience, I remind myself, wanting to prolong every moment of pleasure.

  She’s responsive to every touch, every lick, every flick of my tongue, and it isn’t long before her body starts to quiver and pulsate with her growing orgasm.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me,” I murmur against her pussy, two fingers thrusting inside her, my other hand teasing one of her hard nipples.

  “Carter. Oh my God.” Her hands fist in my hair, and she cries out as her body convulses, and the tight walls clench and spasm around my fingers.

  My God, is right. I haven’t even been inside of her, and I’m already addicted.

  I kiss her once more on the inside of her thigh, then crawl above her and grin. “I’ve been fantasizing about doing that for far too long.”

  She blushes. “No one has ever done that before.”

  I try not to frown at her admission, but it unsettles me. Obviously, she’s not a virgin, but it makes me wonder how innocent she really is.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asks, concern drawing her brows down.

  “No.” I kiss her forehead, her nose, then her lips. “Of course not.”

  “I just want to be gentle with you.”

  She tugs my hair then, pulling me down towards her in a demanding kiss.

  I groan at the next words that come out of her mouth, “I don’t want gentle. I just want you. All of you.”

  Chapter 19

  Layla

  My body is still humming from his touch, but I want so much more. I know he’s holding back, but I don’t want his control. I want, no I need, all that intense, dark, hunger that’s been building between us to finally explode.

  He’s watching me, fire in his gaze, and I can practically see the war that’s going on inside of him. The man struggling with the beast within.

  “Please,” I beg, hands travelling down his sculpted abs to the waist of his pants, hooking my fingers in the material and pushing it over his hips. “I need you.”

  The truth of my words leaves me shaking. I do need him. More than I’ve ever allowed myself to need anyone.

  I swallow hard, when his cock springs free, my mouth watering for a taste. I lick my lips and he groans.

  “There’s no way in hell I’m going to last if you put those sweet lips around me,” he growls out.

  I give a small pout, and he chuckles.

  “There’ll be lots of time for that in the future, but I’ve been waiting too damn long to be inside of you and I’m already barely hanging onto my control.”

  That makes me smile. I love that I can do that to him. Make him want me with that much need.

  I reach out and stroke his long length, reveling in the silkiness of it.

  “I don’t have anything,” he moves above me, pressing his cock against my stomach, his thick thighs spreading my legs wider.

  It takes a second for me to realize that he means protection.

  “I’m clean,” I whisper against his lips as he kisses me.

  “So am I,” he says, the restraint in his voice fraying.

  I place my palms on his face, locking my gaze with his, my heart hammering in my chest. “Then make love to me.”

  Maybe it’s not the right thing to say. Maybe I should have told him to just take me, or have sex with me. But this thing between us is so much more than that. At least I think it is. Maybe I just want it to be.

  The intensity in his gaze as he moves above me, pressing the head of his heavy erection at my entrance, is almost too much.

  I gasp as his hips thrust forward, and he buries himself deep inside of me.

  “God, Layla,” he breathes out, resting his forehead against mine, and giving me a moment for my body to adjust to his width and length.

  There’s a delicious ache between my legs as my walls tighten and relax. My experience with sex is limited to a couple drunken encounters, and this is more than I’ve ever experienced.

  The realness of it. His body connected to mine. I’m aware of his every slight movement, every breath, ever heartbeat.

  I love you, I want to cry out, as he starts to move inside of me. Instead, I hold onto him, shutting off my brain, and trying to shut off my emotions.

  An impossible task. Because already I’m way over my head, and I know that after tonight, after this, losing him won’t just break me, it’ll destroy me.

  His hands are all over me now, stroking down my thigh, across my breasts, thumb playing with my nipple, and causing more sensations to pulsate straight to my core.

  I close my eyes, unable to look at his beautiful face, not when my body is singing with pleasure, and he’s pushing me to places I’ve never been before. My legs wrap around his hips, my fingers dig into his back, and I move with him, each thrust, each stroke more demanding than the last.

  “Eyes”–he thrusts deep–“On”–his palm is on my face–“Me.”

  I blink up at him as he rides me harder, my body overloaded with sensations, my emotions twisting this incredible experience into something more than I know it is.

  I can feel my orgasm building, can sense his own so close.

  “Let go, sweetheart.” His intense blue gaze bores into me, demanding more than just my body.

  His hips buck against mine, his body filling and stretching me, making it impossible to resist the pleasure that all but consumes me.

  I feel myself giving in, because I don’t have the strength to fight it.

  “Carter,” I whimper against his lips as his mouth crashes against mine. My fingers tangle in his hair and I try to breathe in a ragged breath, but I can’t get enough oxygen into my system. It’s like I’m being tortured with pleasure, and I don’t know if I’ll survive.

  His quick, hard strokes have me exploding in seconds.
A flood of sensations wracks my body and every muscle tenses and tightens. I cry out. What I don’t know. All I know is that for a moment I swear I lose consciousness as the orgasm that was building rips almost violently through my entire body.

  Pure, blissful rapture. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me.

  In some distant place, I hear Carter’s own cry of release, feel his body contract and explode within me. Feel his seed spill with a force that drives me even further over the edge.

  When the last shudder rips through me, I cling to him trembling with how completely and utterly spent I am. Physically and emotionally.

  Carter rests his forehead against mine, and his fingers brush across my damp cheeks.

  “What’s wrong?” He shifts up on one arm, still not pulling out of me, brows drawn down in a frown.

  I realize then that the dampness is tears.

  No. No. No.

  I am not crying. Not after how perfect everything was.

  “I-I’m okay.” But my voice betrays my emotions.

  “Did I hurt you?” He starts to ease away, and I panic, gripping his hips, and forcing him not to move.

  “No. You were…that was perfect.”

  His knuckles drag across my cheek, and he presses a light kiss against my lips. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  The way he’s looking at me, like I’m the most precious thing in the world, makes me feel safe. Like maybe this whole insane thing between us might just be the real thing. That I might not be the fool I think I am for falling head over heels for the guy.

  I trace one of the patterns on his bicep and think about what I’m supposed to say. I’ve never been here before, in a place where the guy wants me to open up. I’ve spent my whole life bottling my emotions. I don’t know how to let my walls down completely.

  When I don’t answer, Carter rolls over on his back, taking me with him, so that my head is resting on his chest, and one of his arms is wrapped possessively around me.

  We lay in silence for a long time. And I swear I fall even more in love with him, for his ability to know exactly what I need. And right now, I just need time to think.

  My mind never stops. It’s constantly thinking about the consequences of every word I say, every small insignificant action, and this…well this is going to take a hell of a lot of processing.