by Cary Hart
I have been so consumed with my thoughts, I forgot I was staring at him.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I …” Deciding to go for honesty, I blurt out, “It’s just, I can’t help but feel connected to you. I’m not sure what brought you here, but I’m glad you are.”
“The feeling is mutual.” He reaches out and puts his hand on my leg.
I shiver.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
I nod my head, unable to speak.
“Here.” He pulls me next to him, wrapping his arms around me and shielding me from the breeze.
Tucking my face into the crook of his arm, I breathe in his scent.
“Why were you out here alone? Some stranger could see you out here and give you some lame story, luring you back to his vehicle,” he asks, raising his eyebrows as he awaits my response.
“HA! All serial killers wear coke-bottle glasses…so, I’m safe.” I’m not sure if this is true or not, but it sounds good.
“Actually, that isn’t true. What you probably saw were images after they were incarcerated, wearing state-issued frames.”
“Huh, interesting.” I look up at him, able to see his eyes for the first time. The moon is full and high, the glow bouncing off the waves and hitting his eyes just right. So blue, they almost seem transparent.
He looks down, his gaze piercing through me. “What’s that?”
“You don’t wear contacts?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, you’re not going to kill me then.”
“BAHAHAHAHA!” His laugh barrels through his chest. It seems even louder with my head pressed against his side, and I can feel every vibration of his words. “Has anyone told you that you are different?”
“Different? Hmm…nope, can’t say they have.” Confused, I ask, “Is that a bad thing or good?”
“Babe, it’s good, refreshing…different,” he reassures me.
Still cold, I shiver and bring my arm around his chest, trying to find a spot to keep my hands warm. I notice his shirt is now untucked, and I place my hand there and feel its warmth, inching my hand up until it’s secured under his shirt. Hearing his breath hitch from the coldness of my hand, I think about removing it, but once the warmth hits I decide he will have to physically remove it if it bothers him.
“Still cold?”
“Yeah.” I hesitate. I don’t want him to go and I’m afraid if we get up, he will leave.
“Here, let’s try this.” He lies back and pulls me halfway on him, adjusting the blanket so it covers us both.
“That’s perfect, and feels good.” I snuggle in and get comfortable.
“Yes, it does.” He bends his head kisses my forehead in an intimate gesture. Then he pulls me up a little farther, kissing my nose.
I lift my chin, wanting more. He senses my need and brushes his lips on my cheek next to my ear, whispering, “Tell me to stop.”
“No,” I rasp, turning my head towards his, wanting more.
“I’m not good…” he licks my neck, the cold air hitting it sends a chill down my body and a heat between my legs. “…for you.”
“I’m tired of people telling me what to do,” I say impatiently.
I run my hand further up his shirt as he pulls me in tighter, rubbing his leg in a slow motion that hits all the right spots between mine.
“Please, kiss me.”
That’s all the approval he needs and he slams his lips to mine, sending a current so unbearable through me that I need more. Grabbing his shirt, I roll to my back, pulling him on top of me, desperately needing the pressure of his body on mine.
Throwing my arms around his neck, I pull him in, deepening the kiss. Rocking back and forth trying to gain the friction for the release I crave.
“Please, more,” I beg.
Breaking our kiss, he pushes himself up on his knees, pulling me with him. He takes off my hoodie and throws it next to us. I’m still in my bikini and jean shorts, so he gets to work untying the top, letting it fall.
‘My god, you are beautiful,” he murmurs as he reaches down to take a nipple into his mouth. Sucking, pulling and then switching to give the other the same attention, letting the cold air tease the one he just left. The sensation is too much. I need more.
Pulling his head closer to me, I lie back down, wrapping my legs around his waist, rocking, urging him on.
Kissing down my bare stomach he stops just below my navel, licking, nipping his way down. He stops only to unbutton my cutoffs, pulling them and my bikini bottoms off in one swift motion.
“I need you now.”
He pushes himself away, rips open his button-down shirt then works on his belt, removing his pants in record time. Urgency overcomes us as our bodies intertwine, connecting in one swift thrust.
My hands snake their way under his arms, pulling him closer, as I moan, “Oh God.” My fingers claw their way down his back as the pressure builds. “I can’t…I…I…please!”
“Look at me!” His voice vibrates through my body. “NOW!”
My eyes fly open, capturing a moment so raw and intense it’s as if his eyes are claiming a part of me his body can’t touch.
This moment is so powerful and passionate it brings me to my release. As my body begins to tighten, I feel his pace pick up, slamming into me, bringing me to heights I have never felt.
“YOU…” he roars, throwing his head back, slowly pumping into me, carrying out his release and bringing me to another.
Lowering himself on his forearms, he brings both palms to my face, cradling my head in his hands. “What are you doing to me?” whispering as he takes a thumb, brushing it over my lips.
This moment is much too personal for two strangers. “What are we doing?” I ask.
“Living life, babe.”
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I want to thank my bestie, partner in crime, my ride or die, Brittany Holland. Without you, this would have never been possible. Thank you for always kicking my ass when I needed it.
Joya Ryan, what can I say? You gave me two things… Break Me Slowly and Marina Adair. One sparked my passion for romance and the other ignited my dream. I heart you so hard!
Kelly, you send the best voice texts EVER!
Rachel VD, you inspire me in so many ways. The end.
Reina Torres, your kindness is never-ending. I would have never made it through this process without you. Thank you for putting up with my endless messages and especially for designing my cover. You rock!
Stephanie St. Klaire (aka marketing genius), Thank you for helping a girl out. Newbies for life!
DMH Editing Services, Dani Hall, thank you for taking me on. We battled through some crazy deadlines, but pulled through. It was fate!
Special thanks to my family. I missed you guys!
About The Author
Cary Hart hails from the Midwest. A sassy, coffee-drinking, sometimes sailor swearing (Shhh… don’t tell), wine-sipping, Spotify addict, lover of all things books!
When not pushing women down the stairs in the fictional world, Cary has her hands full. She is blessed to be the sports mom of two wild and crazy, spoiled kiddos, and wife to the most supportive husband (took a few years to train). In addition to working full-time, she bakes cookies on the side to fund her newly found love of writing and to keep her Sephora VIB Rouge status. The addiction is real, folks!
Believe it or not, writing was never a dream for Cary. Reading was something she never enjoyed growing up. All it took was one friend, who went MIA for a weekend on a book binge, to share her passion and loan an ebook, lighting a fire inside her. Two years, and hundreds of ebooks later, she connected with one of her favorite authors, who patiently listened to her plot ideas. Her encouragement and saying those three little words — “You write it!” — changed everything!
So, welcome! Hop on board, and enjoy the ride!
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