by Maisey Yates
She felt…she felt completely unguarded. Stripped bare. It had nothing to do with being naked. She didn’t like it. It made her want to hit him, to yell at him again, to get into another fight, because it was easier than this.
She opened her mouth, ready to say something confrontational, but he overrode her. “This is what you want?”
She wished that he wasn’t asking her. She wished that his voice weren’t so enticing, so masculine and husky, thick with his desire for her. She wished that he didn’t sound so tender. She wished that he were angry. Because that would make this easy.
He seemed intent on making it anything but easy.
“I said it was what I wanted. You’re the one that’s surprised by the virgin news, not me.” She despised the sound of her voice. Tremulous and uncertain, rather than sharp and clear the way she would prefer. But she was in over her head. Drowning. She needed him to reach down and pull her out, to show her what to do, to dictate what happened next. She was dependent on him. It was nothing like she had thought it would be.
She had thought to find some kind of power in this. To reclaim something. But she didn’t feel it. Not now. She just felt hollow and vulnerable. She felt like any other woman, and yet at the same time so painfully aware that she wasn’t. Because she was twenty-eight, and she was a virgin. Because her skin was scarred and most people would never be able to call it beautiful.
She just wanted him the way a woman wanted a man. But it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be. It could never be. Because of her, because of him. Her teeth chattered, and suddenly he reached out, cupping her cheek, his warmth enveloping her, sending sweet, warm honey through her veins. It slowed her blood, slowed her heartbeat, slowed everything down until all she could do was focus on him.
On where his skin made contact with hers. On his breathing. On the way it matched with the steady beating of her heart.
“I want you,” he said.
The words were simple, but they were everything. They were the only thing that mattered. Because they stripped all that other stuff away, and they left behind the things she wished she could be. So maybe, for tonight, just for tonight, here in the dark, she could be brave. Beautiful. Sensual.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have anything to say, which was a miracle in and of itself. Instead, she swayed forward, pressing her lips to his. His thumb skimmed over her cheek and she melted into his touch, resting against the strength of his hand.
Her stomach turned over, something about that simple display of strength, that encompassing heat made her feel safe in a way that nothing else had.
How could she feel safe in his hands?
She blinked back a sudden, unexpected sheen of tears. She wished that she could see him, and she was glad that she couldn’t. Those two thoughts, those two desires, fought with each other as she gave herself over to their kiss. As she allowed him to pull her completely up against his body, so that she was pressed against him, from breast all the way down to her toes.
His arousal was hot and hard against her stomach, big and overwhelming, and something she couldn’t quite bring herself to think about. She was much happier wrapped in this kind of gauzy prelude that wasn’t overly realistic just yet. She was cocooned in darkness. In a deep, emotional hunger that made her feel so hollow she was desperate to be filled, and it all seemed limitless and endless. When she began to apply it to the physical, to reality, it seemed a little bit more impossible.
But he was sure, and he was certain, and she took a little bit of pleasure in the fact that she had been right about the kind of man she wanted to do this job. His hands were firm, knowing, as they slid over her curves, as he moved them both to the bed, laying her down gently, rising up over her, kissing the edge of her mouth, her jaw, down to her collarbone.
She might be hesitant, but he wasn’t. She might not have any idea what was happening, what was going to happen next, but he did. That certainty spoke loudly through each and every touch, through every branding kiss that landed on her skin.
He moved lower, his tongue sliding over the curve of her breast. She gasped as he moved to the side, his lips brushing against one of her scars. He skimmed over it as though it weren’t there. And she squeezed her eyes tight, trying to keep tears from falling, because that was exactly what she needed, and he seemed to know it.
He moved lower then, shattering her thoughts as he drew one tightened nipple into his mouth, sucking hard before lapping at her gently, then scraping her with his teeth, a little bit rough. She squirmed, unable to keep back the hoarse cry that broke through her lips. It was the combination. That sweet, almost deferential touch that paid homage to her inexperience combined with the more challenging elements—scrapes of his teeth against her skin, hot, roughly spoken words that made her shiver at the erotic promise in them.
He continued to blaze a trail down her stomach, to that tender skin just beneath her bellybutton, where he paused, tracing a lazy circle there before dipping his head lower, his breath hot over that bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
He groaned as he nuzzled her aching body, then pressed his lips to the most intimate part of her. She arched up against him, not sure if she was trying to get closer, or get away. Knowing about something intellectually was a lot different than actually experiencing something. Exposing yourself to something so intimate was different than anything. She didn’t have a single thing she could compare this to. This surrender of herself, of her inhibitions—of which she had plenty.
But with each pass of his tongue, a few more were stripped away as her arousal was wrenched up higher, impossibly so—she cared less and less about anything except what Gage could do to her with his mouth and his hands. He was holding tightly to her hips, holding her to his mouth so that he could control the pressure and the speed with which he ravished her.
Pretty soon, she wasn’t worried about anything except the promised pleasure that he hinted at with each wicked taste. She found herself moving in time with him as best she could, even though he was holding her so tight it was difficult to move at all. She liked that too. Enjoyed the evidence of his strength, of how large and male he was. How different he was from her.
He released his hold on her with one hand, sliding it between her thighs and pushing one finger deep inside of her, then another as he stretched her gently, thrusting into her in time with each pass of his tongue over her clit.
Something began to fracture in her chest, breaking her apart piece by piece. It was horrible, and wonderful, blinding and completely overwhelming. She felt herself splintering, shattering, starting near her heart and moving on down, deep and low, the resulting damage causing answering waves to begin to swell inside of her.
She tried to fight it, tried to hold herself back, digging her heels into the mattress as the pressure built and built until she could barely breathe. She was fighting a losing battle to hold the pieces of herself together, even though the damage had already been done. And when she dissolved, she wondered why she had ever tried to stay whole.
Because being broken and sobbing in Gage’s arms, reaching this peak of pleasure that rivaled anything she had ever fantasized about, made her controlled, rigid existence seem so dry, so very small. Like she’d been living in one room when all she had to do was open the door to find the freedom she’d always craved.
As the aftershocks continued to shudder through her, Gage moved away, right when she needed to cling to him. He moved to the edge of the bed, opened his nightstand drawer and pulled out a box of condoms.
“Hold tight,” he said, his voice strange.
“Okay,” she responded, because she wasn’t really sure what else to say. It wasn’t like she was going to get up and run out of the room now, even if part of her wanted to. She was too… Well, she was boneless for one. For another, she wasn’t going to go this far without taking it all the way.
While he took care of the protection, she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the package tearing, fighting ag
ainst the anxiety starting to chase around inside of her.
Then, he moved back to her, positioning himself between her thighs. He gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning her face and pressing a kiss to her lips. She kept her eyes closed.
He moved his hand back down between her legs, stroking her a couple of times, groaning when he found her wet.
“I’ll try to go slow,” he said.
She just wished he would quit talking. Because suddenly everything felt way too real, and who he was seemed impossible to ignore, and what was about to happen was so incredibly huge.
And it was Gage West.
She gritted her teeth, turning her head as he pressed the blunt head of his arousal against her entrance, sliding inside of her slowly, stretching her, filling her. It was impossible. She could hardly breathe. He was too much.
Instinctively, she grabbed hold of his shoulders, clinging to him even though part of her wanted to push him away. She held on to him so tightly her nails dug into his skin, but he didn’t stop her, didn’t act like he was in pain.
He made a harsh sound as he pushed into her all the way, and she started to shake. It was terrible. It hurt. He was so big she didn’t think she would ever get used to the feel of him inside of her. And he was so close. Of course he was. He was in her. But, she hadn’t fully appreciated what that might mean. Or maybe, she had. Maybe that was why she’d never done this before. Because she knew how it would feel.
He was over her, around her, in her, all-encompassing in ways she had never anticipated.
He consumed her every sense. Every part of her.
How was she supposed to keep him at a distance when he was in her? How did she keep her shields up when he was so far past the walls? She should have known. And somehow, she hadn’t. All that want, all that longing had been so big she’d forgotten the rest. Forgotten words like intimacy and possession.
A tear slid down her cheek, and she was thankful he couldn’t see it. Thankful that it was dark, and he was lost in his own pleasure, too wrapped up in all of it to realize that she was unraveling.
He started to move. She wanted to beg him to stop. Not because it hurt, but because it began to feel good. And that was even worse.
He flexed his hips, his hard body pressing up against her clitoris, sending sparks of pleasure through her. She fought it. There was no reason for her to have an orgasm again. She’d had one already, and honestly, another one would be gratuitous. And dangerous.
But, Gage didn’t seem to take note of her resistance. Or, he didn’t care. He slid his hand down her back, moving to cup her butt, pulling her up hard against him with his every thrust, forcing her into deeper, harder contact with him.
He ground his hips against her every time he went in deep, making her gasp, pushing the strange surge of emotion that had overwhelmed her when he had first entered her into the background. It was still there, lingering, but the feeling, the pleasure, it was bigger now. Starting to blot out common sense, self-protection and everything that had just told her to try and hold back.
She didn’t want to hold back anymore. She just wanted, more than that, needed him. Needed this. Needed satisfaction more than she could ever remember needing anything else in her entire life.
He wasn’t talking now. He was just breathing, hard and fierce, broken. She liked it. Because it sounded like she felt. On the verge. Out of control.
She let her head fall back, and he kissed her throat, those hot lips and the gentle scrape of his beard sending a sensual shiver right down through her body.
Suddenly, the sensation of being overwhelmed by him wasn’t bad. It wasn’t too much.
It wasn’t enough.
She found herself arching into him, holding on to him, pressing her body against him. Clinging to him, to this.
She wrapped her legs around his, tangling herself in him completely as he continued to drive them both harder, higher.
He gripped her face again, holding her steady as he kissed her deep, his desperation echoing through her, pushing her to the brink. She held there for a moment, suspended in space. And then she fell.
She felt him stiffen above her, heard him growl as he pulsed deep inside of her. But she was too caught up in her own release to have any more than a vague awareness for what had happened with him.
When she came back to herself, she was still clinging to his shoulders, and he was breathing hard, his face buried in her neck.
She blinked, realizing that there were tears on her face that she wasn’t aware of having shed. He moved away from her and she rolled onto her side, curling into a ball, tucking her knees up against her chest.
She closed her eyes tightly, listened to the sound of him cross the room, going into what she assumed was a bathroom. She just lay there, counting her breaths. She had done that. She wasn’t a virgin anymore.
She’d had sex with Gage West.
She sat up, breathing hard, an adrenaline surge pouring through her. She had to go. She had to get out of here or she was going to completely lose her mind in front of him.
She swung her feet over the side of the mattress, pressing her hand to her chest, feeling her heart raging beneath her palm.
“You don’t have your truck.”
She turned, seeing the vague silhouette of Gage standing in the bathroom door. “I know,” she said.
“I don’t think you did. You had the look of a woman about to run out on a man.”
“I’ll just walk home,” she said, ignoring him.
“Like hell. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll drive you back if you need to leave. Or, you’re welcome to spend the night here.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
He let out a heavy sigh, crossing the space and moving to the foot of the bed, where he retrieved his jeans. “Have it your way. I don’t exactly want to go outside again, but if you need your space…”
“I need to go home. I told you. One time. That was it. It’s done.”
He started to pull his pants on slowly. “Right. And you were a virgin. You just…wanted to lose that really quick?”
“There was nothing quick about it. I’m twenty-eight.”
“Sure. But I think you know that’s not what I meant.”
“Hey, could we skip the heart-to-heart, postmortem thing?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Suddenly, the sound of a phone vibrating on a hard surface cut through their conversation. He crossed to the nightstand and grabbed hold of his phone, looking down at the screen. He answered it. “Hello? Yeah.” He paused. “Is everything okay?”
In spite of herself, Rebecca felt tense listening to the single-sided conversation.
“I can come down there.” There was another pause. “Right. All right. Some other time then.” This pause wasn’t longer than the others, but it felt thicker, heavier. “Tell her I said… You know what, don’t tell her I said anything.”
He hung up the phone, setting it slowly on the nightstand again. Then he turned, walking toward the window and bracing his hands on the windowpane.
Her breath caught as she looked at his powerful physique, outlined by the pale moonlight. She felt exposed, she still wanted to escape, but that didn’t make him any less beautiful. It didn’t make her any less captivated by him. Or any less concerned about what was happening, even if she shouldn’t be concerned about him at all.
“What happened?”
“My little sister,” he said, his voice like gravel. “She had a baby.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“IS EVERYTHING OKAY?”
He wasn’t accustomed to Rebecca looking at him with anything like compassion or concern, but she definitely showed both at the moment.
He nodded slowly, his heart thundering a dull, painful rhythm in his chest. A lot like a boulder hitting up against a bruise. He had barely recovered from what had just happened between him and Rebecca, and having this thrown over the top of it when his orgasm was still buzzing through his blood was all a lit
tle bit much.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Madison wasn’t sure if Sierra would want me to come down to the hospital.” And why would she? Until that first day he’d come back, he hadn’t seen her since she was six years old.
Damn.
Suddenly, he felt the weight and importance of every single year he’d been absent. Sure, he’d been close enough to an adult when he’d left, but his siblings had been kids. Those years mattered. They had changed things in inestimable ways. He could never have that time back. Ever.
He had missed everything. First dates and inches grown and all the shit that Madison had gone through. Colton was married, and in his mind his brother was still a skinny sixteen-year-old, not a man. Not someone’s husband.
He had missed Sierra getting married, and now she was a mother.
All in all, he had changed the least.
His years hadn’t been full of this kind of change. He had just wandered on down empty roads, rolling into towns where no one knew him and then rolling back out again when they knew him a little bit too well.
Yeah, it had all blurred together out there. By himself, the years hadn’t seemed to matter so much. But back here, he could see just how essential each and every one had been. Now that it was too late.
“Why doesn’t she think you should go to the hospital?”
“Probably because me being around is still a little bit of a problem. Colton is mad because I’m the one that Dad put in charge of managing his affairs if he ever became an invalid or died. I think that pisses him off because he was here being the good son, and I was off doing God knows what. That’s fair enough. Except, I don’t actually think he wants a front-row seat to all of this. But, I don’t blame them for not trusting me.” He looked at her, at the woman he had just slept with. The woman whose virginity he had just taken. She looked rumpled, warm and soft, and a hell of a lot more tempting than the problems that were laid out in front of him.
