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I can see her under the moonlight streaming in. The silvery beams illuminating her also show me how dilated her pupils are and how hazy her expression has turned.
“Clint!”
“I’m here. God, you’re so fucking sexy.” If my brain could focus on something other than arousing her, maybe I’d be more eloquent about the soft, slick pad under my fingers and her nipples stabbing desperately in my direction. But all my body knows is that she’s ready for me to sink into her. “I want to put my hands and mouth everywhere.”
“No.” She shakes her head frantically, nails digging into my shoulders. “Inside me. Now.”
I’ll never turn down that invitation.
I vault over her thigh, between her legs, and grip her knees, settling them around my hips. Then I’m pushing my way inside her. The hot, slick walls of her pussy threaten to dissolve my self-control. But I’m spellbound by more than the physical pleasure of sex. Her arms encircle me, opening to me, welcoming me. Wanting me. As I penetrate her, Bethany presses kisses across my jaw until she catches the corner of my lips with her own.
All bets are off then. I slant my mouth over hers and slide deep inside as I surge forward the last few inches and take complete possession of her body. She arches up and cries out, legs spreading wider under me, silently begging me for more.
I clutch her hips, hoping like fuck I won’t leave bruises, then I crash into her in every way possible, stroke after long, rapid stroke. My skin is burning. My libido is lit up. Every part of me is utterly on fire for this woman. I hate to put a name to what I feel for her…but I’m more than a little worried I’ve fallen in love.
Seconds later, she’s tightening and bucking underneath me, clutching me as if she can’t get close enough, and calling out to me in shrill cries that send shivers skittering across my skin. With a growl, I grip her hair, force her to stare into my eyes.
As I watch her come, ecstasy implodes me.
With a chest-deep groan, I bury my face in her neck and let go of everything, especially my sanity. I ride her through an agonizing, clawing climax that’s the most fucking intense thing I’ve ever felt. My head is swimming, my senses reeling. And still I pound and press my way deeper, shaking and growling and holding her like I’ll never let go.
When it’s over, I’m panting, blinking. Stunned.
Son of a bitch.
I look down at Bethany—and freeze when I see tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.
“Sweetheart?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
“You make me feel things…” She gives me the most heartbreaking smile. “You don’t know how amazing and confusing that is.”
I don’t.
Swallowing, I smooth the hair back from her face. “Tell me.”
“Don’t you want to get up, get dressed…”
And put space between us?
“No.” I’m still inside her, still connected to her. “Is this too intimate for you?”
She hesitates. “I’m not used to it. I’m not used to any of this. Where have you been for the last ten years?”
The humor she tries to inject into her question is unmistakable, but I hear it for the plea it really is. Something is going on in her head. In her heart. If she’s half as caught up in me as I am in her… Yeah, that makes me want to celebrate. But it also terrifies me. What happens when she finds out why I sought her out in the first place?
“Wishing I knew you,” I tell her softly. Until I can find a way to be honest about everything else, I can be honest with my feelings.
Her smile that turns into tears rips at my chest. “If I’d known you all this time, it would have saved me a lot of pain.”
Bethany is so open right now. She wants to tell me things. The yearning to share is on her face. I feel guilty as hell for even encouraging her. On the other hand, if I had zero agenda other than to love this woman, I would still be coaxing her to spill everything to me.
“You keep saying these things that break my heart. Tell me why. Let me take some of the pain.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not your problem, and you don’t want it.”
“I do.” I press a soft kiss to her mouth. “Tell me what hurts you. I’ll hold you. We’ll work it out.”
“I don’t want you to look at me differently afterward.”
“Beth, you aren’t your past. You are your heart.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I stop. My world tilts on its axis in a dizzying sway before slowly righting itself. What I just admitted to her—and myself—is that I no longer measure her by what happened before we met. Whatever she was involved in previously doesn’t define my feelings for her. I might not know every single thing about Bethany Banks, but I know her on some deep level that I’m not sure many do. Past transgressions, if she’s even guilty in the Reed Financial scheme—that wasn’t her. This woman who’s still holding me and doing her brave best to fight tears is.
