Page 66 of Passion in Bloom

Heather

Roarke asking me aboutmoving out of this cabin and staying in Burton permanently should’ve intimidated me.

That wasn’t a question that could come off as butting in. That was a direct suggestion that I stay. That we get attached.

Oh, we are.

I knew, deep in my heart, that I was being weak. One smoldering, hot look from him. One husky rasp of a whisper against my skin. One gentle and teasing caress of his fingers over me.

And I was done for.

His body called to mine. His desire catalyzed me until it sparked and spread and broke out in a wildfire of lust that consumed me.

Sure, it was just sex. It was only a physical thing. Hormones and neurotransmitters all working in a coordinated effort to get me off and feel good with the rush of endorphins that followed an orgasm. That right there was biology. Scientific facts.

But something else, something magical and wicked, precious and just right, was also at play between us.

When we came together like this, nothing felt wrong.

The only things that stood to my attention as faulty were my original thoughts and reservations that had me telling him a month ago that I was done with men. That I would never be interested in him.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

He was mighty, pounding into me over and over again. His thighs smacked against the back of mine as he pummeled my pussy, slamming that big, long dick into me with precision.

It was probably wrong to cave so easily after I put up such a fight, but it felt too damn good to miss an opportunity to experience this with him.

I wasn’t exactly proud of how hard I pushed my ass back to him, needing all the delicious pain of the impact of him driving into me hard and fast, but there was not a chance in hell I’d try to stop him.

So good. So, so fucking good.

I couldn’t form a thought beyond that, locked into greedily enjoying the quick buildup to all this tension. I ached, inside out. My womb squeezed with the deep, instinctive need to come with what I now knew were vaginal climaxes—something David never could achieve. My nipples felt like throbbing pinches of agony as I leaned further over the table. Zings of arousal spiked from me there, and as he thrust into me with such force, I ended up splayed over the table, shoved forward. He walked me forward until I was draped on the wood. My bare breasts rubbed back and forth over the surface with the speed of his drives. Keeping my arms up, flat and outstretched on the tabletop, I gave up trying to grip anything for purchase.

He held me.

He had me.

Roarke was keeping me right where he wanted me—right where I wanted to be. Caught between his hands, I relished the dig of his fingers curling into my hips. He held me there to ensure I’d come hard and fast, blinded by a brutal orgasm.

I’d never know how good it could be.

David never—

Dammit. No.

I didn’t want to think.

I didn’t want to think about my ex.

All I wanted was to feel this glorious fullness of Roarke’s bare dick stroking into me so perfectly.

Still, stuck in the comparison that Roarke was a sex god seemingly made to blow my mind while David had been a greedy asshole to get himself off and not me, I couldn’t stop the bombardment of thoughts about the past I hoped to move on from.

Sex wasn’t a remedy to the abuse and hell I endured. Fucking to distract myself wasn’t a fix. I had to heal myself. I had to care for my mind and appropriately get over all that happened to feel like a whole woman again. I had to be complete, not shattered, if I planned to be with Roarke.

“Roarke, please,” I begged.

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous,” he growled, speeding up his hard pumps into my.