by Kelly Moran
About halfway there, he paused. “I’ve got you.” He brought his mouth down over hers, pried her lips apart with his. The kiss stole her oxygen and somehow ordered her to relax. “There you go.”
And then he thrust, completely filling her, pausing once again. “Ah, Ella. You feel so damn good.” His groan vibrated her ribs as his body grew wrought with restraint. He shook, his expression indicating he was losing the battle for control. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” The ache had ebbed and been replaced with a throbbing, needy urgency. Desperate, she bent her knees and placed her heels on his lower back, arching to take him deeper. “You feel amazing, too.”
He huffed a laugh of disbelief and drew his hips away. Inch by inch, he retreated, and she hated the empty sensation. Moaning, she fisted his strands, dug her heels in, and rocked her hips. He pushed into her once more, this time with less finesse or consideration. He ground against her, then repeated the motion until they established a rhythm solely for them.
Criminy, how she adored the way the muscles in his back rippled under her palms with his graceful, athletic movement. She lightly raked her nails down his spine to his firm backside, reveling in the way he rocked into her, the fluent motion of how he took her. Each thrust ground his pubic bone against her clit, and she found herself climbing that short ladder to release again.
The dusting of hair on his chest teased her nipples and his sounds of pleasure heightened her own. Grunts and groans and sighs and moans blended together so that she could no longer determine who was making what. Like they’d done this before, had known one another’s gratification points, they danced in sync.
The knot of heat in her lower belly unfurled, and she went taut to brace for the storm. He reached behind him, lacing his fingers with hers over his backside and held them there, never ceasing his tempo. He gripped her other bicep, urging her arm over her head. He slid his hand up, skin shushing skin, until they were palm to palm.
“Come on, sweetheart.” He buried his face in her neck, mouth wide, breathing labored. “Lead and I’ll follow.”
He pumped faster, and she splintered. Fragmented pieces scattered into oblivion, too many to trace or reformulate. Trembling, she arched as every nerve in her body misfired. He barked a strangled sound against her throat. Harder, he thrust, pumped twice more, and went rigid above her. He roared, feral and untamed for long moments, then collapsed on top of her.
Now she irrevocably understood what a puddle of goo felt like. And it was awesome. Exhausting awesomeness.
Panting, he released her hands. “Holy Christ.”
“Uh-huh,” she muttered, heaving air. “What you said.”
His laugh was rough and ragged. A distressed groan, and he pulled out, scooting lower to rest his cheek between her breasts and his hands on her hips.
Silence stretched, comfortable and familiar, while she stroked his shoulders. Her mind was a flurry of thought. One after another. Foremost was how wonderful that had been. Of course, she had almost nothing to compare it to, but she was pretty certain sex wasn’t always that intense. Connective.
“Have I ever mentioned how much I love your breasts?”
She laughed, attempting not to let her over-active imagination read too much into the fact he’d used the L word again. “I don’t recall.”
“Hmm. Bears mentioning. You have incredible breasts.”
“Thanks.” Grinning, she rested her hand on his head. “I’m pretty amazed by your everything.”
“You make me blush.” He lifted his head, resting his chin on her with a grin. His expression immediately fell. “We didn’t use protection.”
Oops. No, they hadn’t. She calculated dates in her head. “It’s not the right time in my cycle to ovulate, and I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”
He nodded. “I always use a condom, so I think we’re good.” He sighed. “Hold that thought.”
He slid out of bed, snatched his pants, and padded out of the room, into the hallway, where he disappeared into her guest bathroom.
She laid there, too many errant thoughts and wayward doubts drifting the longer he took to return. Perhaps this was a cue for her to get up. She wasn’t versed in sexual correctness. He didn’t stick with his partners out of habit. Maybe he was giving her time to get herself together so he could leave. He had taken his pants with him. After all, it was he himself who’d said things might change after they’d been together.
Her stomach bottomed out as she yanked the sheets aside and rose. With shaking hands, she reached for her discarded pajamas, reminding herself she’d known this moment was probably coming. He was who he was, and far be it for her to think she could alter his nature. She should consider herself blessed she’d had any time at all with him. At least she could take with her the compassionate things he’d said and done while they’d been together.
Nevertheless, mortification pummeled her chest. She looked at her legs, her feet, the wounds that had long ago healed, yet hadn’t. She’d been lying to him, but she couldn’t lie to herself. It hurt. Standing in her bedroom alone and naked after making love to a man she respected and admired, it hurt so bad that it was over.
The bathroom latch snitched and he emerged. He was still undressed as he strode into the room, tossing his jeans on the floor. He gave her a once-over, brows wrenched. “What are you doing?”
She hugged the pajamas tighter to her chest. “I was going to put these back on.”
“Why?”
“Er…” Shoot, even her babbling refused to cooperate. “I figured you were leaving. You had your pants.”
He glanced at the jeans in question, then back to her. “Phone was in my pocket. I texted my mama to let her know I was all right. I wasn’t comfortable with the way we left things. I told her I’d call her tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Oh. Well, didn’t she feel stupid.
“Do you want me to leave?”
She flicked her gaze to him, then to the doorway. “No.”
“Good.” He stared at her like he was trying to work something out. Whatever he’d concluded had his shoulders dropping in defeat and empathetic apology in his eyes. “You thought we were done, didn’t you?”
Chewing her lip, she studied the floorboards, unable to answer. If she’d had more experience or common sense, she could’ve avoided this awkward scenario.
“You did. You thought we were through.” He closed his eyes and spoke to the ceiling. “That’s my fault. I tend to be way too candid with you and I forget tact.” Refocusing on her, he offered a half-smile. “I find myself telling you everything, even stuff I shouldn’t, including my pattern with women before you.” He frowned, glancing to her left like he’d had an epiphany. “I guess that’s an appropriate rendition, though. I can categorize my life down to women before you and me after meeting you.”
She expelled a shocked sigh that roused the heavens. Her heart pumped a thump, thump, thump for hope’s sake.
Unspoken words and endearments floated in the space between them like a cloud ready to drop precipitation. The air crackled and static clung to the particles. She could chip away at what he’d just said, whittle it down, but she’d assumed way too much already tonight.
She brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I don’t want to go.” He walked to his side of the bed and flopped onto the mattress. Pulling the sheets away as invitation, he jerked his chin. “Drop those PJs and get in here with me.”
Like an obedient little minion, she did what she was told, too stunned to do otherwise.
Covering them with the blankets, he turned on his side to face her, drawing her closer. He ran his hand down the length of her hair, kissed her forehead, and closed his eyes.
He peeked one eye open seconds later. “By the way, I snore.”
She laughed. “I don’t think I do, but Xena likes to sleep with me and she snores.”
A grunt. “Smart cat. I like to sleep with you, too
.”
Closing her eyes, she burrowed into his warmth. That fickle thing she liked to call happiness bubbled in her belly. “Goodnight, Jason.”
“Before I say the same, I want you to understand something.” He paused. “Your scars? They’re not ugly. Neither are you. The fire that caused them was ugly. The time taken away from you was ugly. The fact it stole your parents from you was ugly. But it’s not contagious, sweetheart. I’d take away the scars and give you your life back if I could. Not because I hate looking at them, but because they caused you immense pain and suffering, plus they made you question your attractiveness.”
Ah, geez, this man. This poor, sweet man who still didn’t trust himself. How he could slay her with a look, a phrase, or a touch? What the heck was she supposed to do?
“Goodnight, Ella.”
Chapter 17
Before Jason even opened his eyes, he knew exactly where he was and with whom. Considering he’d never, not once, spent the entire night in a woman’s bed, he should be flipping his gourd. Actually, after being intimate, history had proven he should be needing the next conquest. Ready to bolt. Interest flailing.
Not wrapping her in his embrace, face buried in her hair, and wanting to take her again. Not content, at peace, and satisfied beyond all measure of doubt. Not…happy.
Was that what this was? Happiness? Sure, he knew joy. Had felt it many times. Had tried it on for size and worn it out. But damned if he’d ever associated the emotion and being with a female in the same regard.
He inhaled her gingerbread scent, her strands teasing his face, and smiled. He had her spooned against him, an arm around her waist, and the other tucked under her head. Her light, even breathing indicated she was still unconscious.
Warm, supple woman. He was hard, just to be contradictory.
Lifting his head, he glanced at her. The arch of her nose. The thick fan of her lashes creating shadows on her round cheeks. Her dark hair spread everywhere. The way her lips were parted in sleep.
The cat on the other side of her, sitting on its haunches, staring at him.
He tried to figure out how to nudge the feline aside, but she jumped down of her own accord and sauntered out of the room as if satisfied he’d watch her ward now.
Refocusing on Ella, he debated how or if to wake her. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting her in golden hues. Her skin was utterly soft, but the glow from daybreak was radiance for her tone.
Last night had been amazing. Not the freaking out, stalking her living room part, nor losing his shit after having seen her scars. But the way she’d understood the crazy in him, had done nothing more than hug him, hold him like she’d known he’d needed exactly that? The way they’d come together, exciting and satiating? Tender and slow. Not to seek the end, but enjoy the journey?
It had never been like that for him. Perhaps because he’d gotten to know her so well first or that they’d spent a lot of time together made the experience more personal. Yet, that didn’t appear to be the culprit and, honestly, it demeaned what they’d done by not giving the act enough credence.
She just…saw him. Faults, traits, qualities, strengths, and character. Him, as a person. All of him, and had wanted to be with him anyway. If he picked that apart and down to the bone, he didn’t think anyone but his mama and Parker had ever bothered or tried. That’s what he’d been missing, he supposed. A connection. Understanding.
Looking at her now, all he could wrap his head around was the insistent urge to protect her. He’d never really been the possessive type. Yet, in her presence, instincts he’d not harbored before rose to the surface to choke him.
Guard. Defend. Keep.
The last part wasn’t as scary as it used to be. Worry still scratched at his chest, itched under his skin, but not like it always had up until this point.
He’d examine it later. Probably beat himself up for it to boot. For now, there were other pressing matters to attend.
Smiling, he kissed her shoulder, her neck, and quietly called her name. She stirred, humming in her throat. Sexiest thing, that. He slid his hand from her waist to her breast, cupping the weight.
She laughed under her breath. “Good morning?”
He adored when she did that, said things in the form of a question when she didn’t know how to respond or was wondering his motive. Her innocence and willingness was a huge draw, made her who she was, but when encouraged and was given direction, she could turn him inside out. He suspected not a soul prior to him had been privy to her passionate side. The one she probably didn’t know she had in her.
Most welcome? She hadn’t rambled in quite some time. On occasion, but rare. Which meant she was comfortable with him. Finally. Yeah, he found her nervousness cute and he’d gleaned plenty from her in that mode. Yet, he’d take her like this, just like this, two-to-one.
“Hello, Ella.” He traced the shell of her ear with his tongue, grinning at her gasp. “Are you awake yet?”
“Getting there,” she teased.
“Allow me to help.” He took his hand off her breast and slid it between her legs.
Mercy, she was wet already. Groaning, he coated his fingers and toyed with her clit until her breathing grew more and more shallow. When he was certain she was ready and his shaft throbbed to no end, he reached between them and rubbed his crown against her opening, aligning himself.
“Best way to wake up, sweetheart.” The whole truth and nothing but.
Slowly, and by using utmost caution, he entered her. Inch by excruciating inch. Unlike last night, he met no resistance and her body willingly accepted him. He was immediately engulfed by hot, wet, tight heat, and he about died. Once fully rooted, he paused and dropped his forehead to her temple.
He didn’t know if he waited for her or himself to adjust because… Damn. But it was as if the fit, every part of her, was made for him. Her perfect ass snug against his pelvis. Her spine pressed against his chest. Her breasts which he could barely clutch in his hand. The way she held him, cradled him in her warmth. Her scent and taste and touch.
Reaching behind her, she sunk her fingers in his hair and said his name.
Breathless.
Needy.
Desperate.
And…lights out. Bon voyage sanity. It had been nice while it lasted.
He rocked against her, inside her, and she moaned. He curled the arm under her head to hold her to him, exposing her neck, and opened his mouth wide on that spot below her ear that drove them both crazy. He pulled out, ready to scream at the withdrawal, and pushed back in to the relief and sweet torment.
Again and again, he pumped in shallow strokes, losing more and more of himself in the process. Or maybe he was finding himself, since he’d been lost a long time. Didn’t matter. He had her, and nothing short of an act of God could stop him.
She continually dragged him into her orbit, spun his world until he had zero points of navigation, and instead of releasing him back into the wild to fend for himself, she took his hand and showed him the lay of the new land.
Did he mind, though?
Fuck no.
Her back bowed, and he knew she was close. The tightening of his balls signified he was right on her heels. Her lips parted. Her brows wrenched, indicating she was focusing on and severely enjoying her path to release. She was amazing to watch, lost in the act and sensual as hell.
His skin heated, his pulse drummed, and liquid fire swam in his veins the longer he held her suspended. Lowering his hand, he scissored his fingers around where they were joined, working her nub to tip her over the edge.
Except that backfired on him. She didn’t tip. She plummeted. Headfirst. And she took him with her.
Her walls clenched around him, a vise, a pleasurable demand, while her body trembled against him. But the suddenness, the cry from her lips, ripped the orgasm right from him with zero warning. He came, so hard and so fast, his muscles locked around bone. Quaking, he threw his head back and groaned. Jerked. Kept coming. Until white ligh
t blasted behind his closed lids and he could stand no more.
Heaving oxygen, heart pounding, he grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers while they came down. She relaxed against him, sighing. Dropping his head on the pillow, he pried his lids apart, only to find wave after wave of her scented hair.
He opened his mouth to say something, but found he couldn’t. Nothing witty or intellectual came to mind, expletives didn’t fit his current state, and he didn’t recognize the sentiment that had his airway restricted. It wasn’t a bad thing, just different. Fulfilling and warm and gratifying.
After awhile, she rolled on her side to face him. She smiled from her eyes. Strangest thing, but she often did that when she seemed truly happy or amused. As always, her lips followed like they were hesitant to catch up.
He stared into those eyes, utterly familiar now. A beacon, really. They were golden brown and almost too big for her face. And he realized he never wanted to look or be anywhere else. So different they were, her and him. So vast on the personality spectrum, but he saw pieces of himself in her depths. Fragments he’d not wanted or had the courage to explore. Perhaps it was time he did since there was safety, a sense of security with her he hadn’t found anywhere else.
“Thank you for last night.” Crap, that was not a great start, nor what he really wanted to say. She was going to think he’d meant the sex. “I didn’t know what else to do, where to go, and on instinct, I came here.” Good. Better. “Maybe I’m a selfish asshole, but when Mama and Lou told me they were together, my first reaction was rage.”
She held his jaw, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “And now? Are you still angry?”
He thought about it and shook his head.
Rising onto her elbow, she set her head in her hand. “Why did it upset you?”
“I don’t know. For starters, he was Dad’s best friend.”
She nodded, but it seemed distracted. “If you could talk to your father again, ask him what he thought of the situation, what do you think he’d say?”