Page 22 of A Very Grumpy Green Beret

“Oh, God,” I wheeze, staring up at him.

He’s my every fantasy come to life, and I know that he’s it for me. He’s my soulmate, my other half.

And I’m his.

“I’m sure. I want this. I want you,” I tell him.

A second later, I’m lifted off my feet. My back hits the front door, and I gasp, clinging to Luca as he guides my legs around his waist and grinds against me.

My hands land on his shoulders, and he winces as I press against the bandages over his wound.

“Put me down!” I shout. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not,” he whispers, his chest pressing against mine.

“Luca, you were sh⁠—”

He cuts me off, slamming his lips down on mine.

My eyes flutter closed, and I give myself over to him, my mind blank as I kiss him back. All I can think about is how good he feels against me, how perfectly his lips mold to mine, how right we feel together.

Luca’s hips rock against me, the thick length of his cock dragging back and forth against my center. I try to rock against him, but he has me pinned against the door. All I can do is stay where he wants me and let him use me any way he wants to.

My core clenches as he rocks and grinds against me. His hands are like a brand where he holds my ass, keeping me pinned in place. He can’t seem to resist squeezing the soft flesh in his hands after every few thrusts.

“Please,” I beg against his mouth.

A second later, he turns, carrying me in his arms down the hallway and into the bedroom.

Our bedroom, I think as we cross to the bed.

Luca lays me down, spreading me out in the middle of the bed. He steps back, staring down at me, his green eyes so dark that they almost look black.

Without saying a word, he grabs the hem of his ruined shirt and tugs it up and over his head. I see him wince as he moves his shoulder, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to offer to wait, to do other things until he’s healed. Then I see the look in his eyes, the need, and I know that there’s no stopping him from taking me.

The shirt drops from his fingers onto the ground, and my eyes trail over the hard lines of his body. The white bandage stands out against his tan skin. His eight-pack abs have me licking my lips. I follow the trail of hair up his stomach to his chest. Scars are scattered all over his torso. Round marks that I know must have been from when he was shot. Small and big lines that I’m guessing are from knives. He looks like a warrior who has returned from battle to claim his woman.

I squirm on the bed, pushing up into a sitting position so I can strip my shirt over my head. I toss it over the side of the bed and then turn back to Luca.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Luca rasps.

I blush, staring down at my stomach and the faint stretch marks. I used to hate them, used to hate my stomach rolls, but now I see myself through his eyes.

I believe him. I believe that he thinks I’m perfect, that I’m gorgeous. This man loves every inch of me.

“Take off the rest,” he orders.

I reach behind my back, unsnapping my bra and letting it slowly slip down my arms.

Luca’s hands clench into fists at his sides, and I know that he’s dying to reach for me. His green eyes flash in the low light as I lie back and push my panties and yoga pants down my legs, kicking them the rest of the way off and leaving me bare before him.

“Your turn,” I whisper.

Luca strips off the rest of his clothes in record time. His cock springs free from his boxers, and I gasp when I see it. It’s huge, the tip an angry red. Veins stand out, snaking down the length, and I swallow as I stare at it.

“I—I.” I gulp.

Luca chuckles. “It’ll be fine.”