Page 44 of Passion in Bloom

Chapter 15

Heather

Roarke brought me intohis room. This wasn’t the first time I was in here, but that familiarity didn’t work any wonders on me to make me feel safer or calmer. Clinging to him and mashing his mouth to my breast, I felt wild and unrooted. Adventurous and excited about taking a risk to go for what I wanted with him.

My previous visit to his bedroom was just for the sake of sleeping. To stay the night when I was locked out. I’d insisted on us keeping to opposite sides of the bed.

No touching.

Now, I wanted him to stay on me. Under me. In me. I wanted no space between us on this mattress. Only an intimate closeness with the sheets sweaty and tangled, until we were both fucked and sated to the point we couldn’t think.

He lowered me to the bed, but the second my back touched the comforter, he started to stand.

“No.” I sat up, reaching up for him, and he knelt one knee on the edge to come back to my demand for a kiss.

I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want him to back up at all.

I needed him, in such a primal way that I couldn’t comprehend or welcome, and any gap between us felt like too much to tolerate.

The burn of his hot caresses warmed me inside out. The strength in his fingers tracing over my skin soothed the gnawing ache of longing I’d tried to ignore for him. But it was the gentle tenderness of his lips on mine that kept me sane and tethered to this surreal moment.

He compromised, leaning down over me. Bracing himself, he put his hands on either side of my head as he kissed and licked, sucked and nipped. My lips would be swollen and so sensitive from his mouth, but I relished the promise of being sore somewhere else even more.

I reached for his jeans, making quick work of the button and zipper on the material there. The second I pushed at his jeans and underwear, though, he stopped kissing me. Instead, he stared down at me with such a smoldering intensity that it was a wonder I didn’t combust into flames.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

He hadn’t paused me when I went down to suck his dick. Then again, I’d set out to pleasure him spontaneously that I’d likely surprised him and caught him off-guard.

The last twenty minutes had been a lazy, slow approach, full of wet kisses and exploring touches.

Besides, I wanted something more. I wanted him, deep inside me and filling me until I couldn’t think straight.

He knew it, too.

Without words. Sans plans or speeches or any declarations of any kind. I preferred it like this. Raw and gritty, following what felt right between us. I didn’t want to ruin the moment with more questions. I wanted to trust in my feelings. To my shock, I wanted to rely on nothing but the instinct in my body and soul that this would be good. That he wouldn’t hurt me or trap me in any obligations to be controlled.

I nodded, too stuck in my ways not to verbalize my thoughts, but I could sense that it mattered to him. That consent, vocally shared, would be part of the criteria for him to finally cave.

“I’m sure, Roarke.” I leaned up, sitting fully, to kiss his face as I pushed at the fabric of his jeans and underwear. “I am very, very sure I want this.” To further prove my point, I wrapped my fingers around his long, hard dick.

He growled, thrusting into my hand as he cupped my face and kissed me soundly. Twirling his tongue with mine, he ended the maneuver with a suction that shot a spike of arousal straight down to my womb. My uterus clenched. My breasts felt so heavy, and the exposed skin around my nipples, where he’d sucked and licked and tortured me with his tongue and teeth, that area felt supercharged and sensitive to the cooling sensation of the moisture drying.

“I want you,” I clarified, revved up by how raw his responses were.

He moved his hands to remove his clothes, and I took advantage of the space to shove at my yoga pants and panties. The scrap of thin white fabric didn’t go easily, too wet and clinging to my skin. Just that evidence of my cream, of my arousal, made me ravenous for more.

Not just more.

All.

I wanted all that he could give me.

Whatever it took to escape from reality with him and just feel.

I shifted to ease my clothes off, but his hands were never far. His lips stayed plastered to mine, luring me to kiss him harder and deeper. When he reached back to shed his coat and his shirt, tugging them up effortlessly in one smooth gesture, I was treated to the show of his muscles flexing and bunching in his arms and neck. That one look was all it took to keep me in the moment.

He’s not David.