Page 100 of Pretend To Be Mine

Fresh tears spilled over. “I just wanted her to be proud of me. Just once.”

“I’m proud of you.” He said it simply, like it was fact. “So proud I could burst with it.”

“Adrian,” I whispered.

He brushed his lips across mine. The touch was so tender I nearly collapsed.

I melted into him, my hands sliding up his chest to loop around his neck. The towel around his waist was damp against my bare legs where his shirt ended. I could feel his arousal pressing against me, but he didn’t rush. Just kept kissing me with that maddening gentleness that made my heart ache.

“Let me show you,” he murmured against my lips. “Let me show you how proud I am.”

His hands found the hem of the shirt I wore and slowly lifted it. I raised my arms and let him pull it over my head. His palms slid down my sides.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “So incredibly beautiful.”

He walked me backward and gently laid me down onto the soft sheets. I scooted back, resting my head on the pillow. He pulled the towel and let it drop to the floor.

He crawled over me, his damp hair dropping water on my face. He lowered his face close to mine and lapped at the water before he kissed me.

Adrian settled between my thighs, his weight supported on his forearms so he wasn’t crushing me. He just looked at me for a long moment, his expression so full of something I couldn’t quite name that I felt tears prick my eyes again.

“Hey, no more crying,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Not unless they’re the good kind of tears.”

“These might be,” I admitted. “I don’t know what kind they are.”

He kissed me again, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that made my toes curl. I arched into him, pressing my breasts against his chest.

He acted like we had all the time in the world.

His mouth left mine to trail down my neck, nipping and suckling every few inches. He smiled against my skin, clearly pleased he’d memorized what I liked. Then lower, to my collarbone, to the valley between my breasts.

When his mouth closed around my nipple, I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped. He took his time there, lavishing attention with his tongue and teeth until I was squirming beneath him.

His hand slid down my stomach, between my legs, fingers finding how wet I already was. He groaned. “God, Elizabeth. You’re perfect.”

He stroked me slowly. When he slid one finger inside me, I clutched at his shoulders.

“More,” I managed.

He added another finger, his thumb finding my clit and circling it with just the right pressure. The pleasure built slowly, a wave gathering strength, and I felt myself climbing toward something beautiful.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let go for me.”

But I didn’t want to let go yet. Didn’t want this to end. I grabbed his wrist, stopping his movement.

“Inside me,” I said. “I want you inside me.”

He withdrew his hand and reached for the nightstand, fumbling for a condom he’d left there earlier. I watched him roll it on and found myself marveling at just how sexy he was. When he positioned himself at my entrance, he paused.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did. Our eyes locked as he slowly pushed inside, filling me inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming. Not just physical but emotional. Like he was claiming more than just my body.

“Elizabeth,” he breathed, his voice rough. “You feel incredible.”

He started to move. Not the frantic coupling of last night. It felt more meaningful. His forehead rested against mine, our breath mingling. Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.

The good kind, I realized. These were definitely the good kind.