Page 124 of Falling for the Enemy

Good. He preferred her frantic and real.

Loving Jocelyn was like losing his religion. Everything he knew about himself, everything he thought he was, paled in comparison to the unfathomable need she stirred in him, the absolute certainty that he would sacrifice anything, including his deepest beliefs, just to keep her.

Let her wring the salvation out of him. He’d come for his share later.

Her body drove down on his, over and over, her slick heat gripping him so tight his vision hazed at the edges. Breath sawed out of him in ragged grunts as her nails carved crescents into his flesh. He could come right now, but he forced his release back, giving away his need to finish in favor of hers.

The couch groaned beneath them. Her shirt rucked at her waist. She was so close he wanted to get her there.

“Let me touch you,” he begged.

Her hands stiffened around his, her fingers lacing so tightly the blood cut off.

She hunted her orgasm with determined abandon, as if it would somehow affirm she hadn’t broken them. Greedy and single-minded, her jaw clenched, and she rode him faster.

Her eyes refused to meet his, and he wondered what she was afraid to see.

She laid him bare. A vessel for whatever she needed him to be.

His gaze once again sought hers, but she evaded him.

Her hair formed a wild halo around her flushed face, no makeup, no hiding. Her salt-streaked cheeks proved this was long past casual.

He fucking loved her. The ache had been clawing at his ribs for weeks. He was done denying it. Done minimizing the things she made him feel. Never before had he felt so intensely for another person, so certain that he’d destroy anyone or anything that tried to keep them apart.

He loved her. He loved the infuriating way she broke his balls, the unpredictable way she went about conducting her life, the glorious, unmanageable way she failed to tame all that hair. He even loved the way she so thoroughly disrupted a room.

She could torch his plans with a glance, quicken his blood with a single flick of those enchanting eyes. He loved her, and he was done fighting it.

He didn’t want to change her or contain her. He only wanted to be near her. To have the right to touch her, hold her, and take care of her, which was a big ask of a woman who prided herself on being as low-maintenance and independent as possible.

The truth settled into him like a weight he’d always carried. The familiarity of its presence confirmed his love had lived there, inside of him, even when she used to torment the hell out of him and drive him insane.

Once more, the words threatened to bolt out of his mouth. He bit his cheek, holding them back as his breath beat out of him.

Harder, faster, she rode him until the pleasure turned excruciating, and just when he thought he could take no more, when he thought he would explode from holding so much inside, her body clenched around his, and she arched back on a scream so intense it went silent.

He caught her in his arms, his body jerking upwards as every muscle bounced and flexed, his release spilling into her as her sex clenched and pulsed, milking him for every last drop.

Sound seemed to siphon out of the room as their eyes met in disordered flashes. A kaleidoscope of carnal tells flashed in a frenzied blur so intense it was as if they skipped time and briefly broke the matrix. Then the whoosh of their rapid breathing whispered back in.

Sweat soaked through their clothes. They clung to each other. Panting. Trembling. His heart stuttered out of rhythm as his muscles quaked under his skin.

He couldn’t hold himself back any more. Gathering her face in his hands, he kissed her tenderly.

A storm broke across her eyes as one unguarded, defenseless breath escaped her, and then he knew she felt it too. She loved him.

She folded against his chest, boneless and spent, her heartbeat slamming against his. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed her in, holding her tight, silently vowing to never let her go.

Soren collapsed into bed beside her. “That’s the first time I ever drank twelve-hundred-dollar champagne off a woman.” He flinched when Jocelyn slapped him in the back of the head.

“That better be the first time you ever drank champagne off a woman period!”

He laughed at how easily she now showed her jealous side. “It is. Don’t worry.”

It had been a week since their fight, and things were back to being near perfect. They never talked about their feelings, because her panic seemed to remind them just how fragile love was.

Sleeping with a friend always came with risk. But sleeping with a best friend could be life-altering.