Page 146 of Trigger Happy Ending

My hair spills over my shoulders and down across my breasts, and his hands move everywhere, my waist, my ribs, my hips, my ass, like he can’t decide where he needs to hold me most. Like he needs all of me under his palms at once. Like after months apart, two hands aren't enough.

“Fuck,” he growls. “I’ve missed you.”

My body clenches around him at the sound of it. “Missed you too.”

But that doesn’t even begin to cover it. How much I’ve missed his mouth, missed his hands, the weight of him, the filth of him, the way he ruins me and worships me all at once.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, the words breathless.

I roll my hips harder in answer (thanks for the compliment, baby), and his head drops back against the pillow with a groan that shoots straight between my legs.

“Jesus Christ, Raine.”

I'm drunk on the sight of him losing control beneath me.

He grabs the back of my neck and drags me down to him. The kiss is filthy this time. Open-mouthed and desperate. Tongues and teeth and all the things. He thrusts up into me while he kisses me, hard enough to make me gasp into his mouth.

That’s it. How I like to be fucked.

My thighs burn, and my skin turns electric. Every thrust of him hits deeper than the last, and I can feel the pressure building low in my body, tight and hot and vicious in the way it coils. I break the kiss to breathe, and he takes the opportunity to mouth at my throat, my collarbone, the top of my breasts, like he’s starving and I am the only thing in the world that will feed and satisfy him.

Normally, we say we hate each other when we have sex. Tonight, I think I’ve found the courage to confess something different.

“I love you too, you know,” I whisper.

He looks up at me instantly, taken aback.

I say it again, louder this time, because I need him to hear it over the bed creaking, over our breathing, over the wet sounds of us having sex. “I love you, Soren.”

He grins. “I love you too, baby.”

And it’s those words, paired with the feel of his hard cock sliding in and out of me, that finally tip me over. I come, hard enough that I feel it in my spine. My back arches at the pleasure tearing through my body, I’m breathless and trembling, tightening around him while he holds me through every pulse of it.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Come for me.”

The filth of it sends another aftershock through me. I’m shaking, barely able to stay upright, and he wraps one arm around my waist to keep me there while the other hand slides up into my hair. Then he’s coming too, deep and rough and right where I need him, and all I can do is cling to him and take it.

For a few shattered seconds afterwards, there is nothing outside of us. There is no world full of hurt and pain. Of lies and deception. There is just his body under mine and my body wrapped around his. I collapse against him, chest to chest, both of us wrecked, alive and reborn.

And beyond the windows, beyond the dark lake and the trees and the watching night, I swear the whole forest stills for us.

Chapter 60

Raine

We spend another full day in bed, sleeping, eating, and touching each other in all places everywhere, making up for lost time and taking advantage of being safe … For now anyway. It’s a twisted kind of heaven, but it's ours. By the time night falls again, the lakehouse is cloaked in darkness. We lay in the tangled, black sheets after making love for the third time today.

“C’mon,” Soren murmurs, rolling onto his side and looking at me with that half-lazy expression that still does stupid things to the pulse between my legs. “I wanna show you something.”

“I’m naked,” I say, pouting.

He ignores the complaint, slides out of bed, drags on his sweatpants and a black hoodie (still with the hot-guy shit), then grabs the wool blanket from the chair in the corner. He holds it open for me. I step into it, and he wraps me tight. He scoops me up in his arms, and I hate how many butterflies my stomach produces. I’ve never been the swoony type, but right at this moment? I’ve got heart emojis as eyes for fuck’s sake.

He carries me through the house, which is totally unnecessary because my legs aren’t broken.

“Hey,” I say. “I can walk, you know.”

“Didn’t you say you couldn’t feel your legs earlier?”