Page 75 of Hate To Be Mine

“I need you.”

He reached into the nightstand and pulled out a condom. I watched him roll it on and practically licked my lips. Then he was settling between my thighs, the blunt head of him pressing against my entrance.

“Look at me,” he commanded softly.

I met his eyes as he pushed inside, filling me completely. I closed my eyes and savored the rightness of it. My hands gripped his shoulders as he began to move slowly at first, letting me adjust.

“Okay?” he asked.

“More than okay,” I breathed. “Don’t stop.”

“God, Bernadette,” he panted. “You feel incredible.”

I couldn’t form words anymore. When I opened my eyes, he was still watching me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Every thrust hit exactly where I needed it, building that pressure inside me again already.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, his rhythm picking up speed. “So perfect.”

His words sent heat flooding through me. I’d never been vocal during sex, never been the type to talk dirty or ask for what I wanted. But something about Sebastian made me brave.

“Harder,” I breathed. “I need more.”

He growled and shifted his weight, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder. The change in position let him go even deeper. I cried out at the intensity of it.

“Like that?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes. God, yes.”

He pounded into me, the headboard hitting the wall with each thrust. I should have been embarrassed by the noise, worried someone might hear. Instead, I found myself getting even more turned on by it.

My hands roamed his back, feeling his muscles flex and move under my palms. He was so beautiful. So strong. And he was mine, at least for right now, in this moment.

“Bernadette, I’m not going to last much longer. You feel too good.”

“Don’t stop,” I begged. “I’m close.”

The man was a machine. I felt myself climbing higher and higher, right on the edge of something massive. Suddenly, I was afraid. Not afraid like someone was going to murder me, but afraid of the crash that was coming at me like a freight train. The pleasure was too much.

“Come for me, Little Bee,” he commanded. “I want to feel you.”

That did it. My orgasm slammed into me, even more intense than the first. I screamed his name, my body clamping down around him as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me.

“Fuck,” Sebastian groaned, his rhythm faltering.

He thrust deep one last time and I felt him pulse inside me, his whole body going rigid as he came. He collapsed onto me, both of us breathing hard, slick with sweat.

He carefully pulled out and disposed of the condom before coming back to bed. Instead of rolling to his side like I expected, he pulled me against him, tucking me into the curve of his body.

I let myself relish in the feel of him. I had a little fantasy about us waking up together. And then going to bed together the next night. Breakfast in bed. More sex.

Then rational thought started creeping back in.

What the hell was I doing?

I’d slept with him again. After we’d agreed it was a one-time thing. We had established boundaries. I promised myself I wouldn’t let this get complicated.

There was no way this was just sex. That much was obvious. I wasn’t that naive. I knew when a guy was interested. But this had gotten way out of hand.

I was falling for him. Maybe had already fallen. And that was terrifying because it had to end. Had to. In less than a week, we’d both be back in New York, back to our real lives, back to being people who didn’t make sense together.