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“But—”
“You asked me what I wanted. I want your trust. I want you to believe that I will treat you exactly as you deserve.”
Whatever that might be.
And maybe after she’s divulged her story, it will seem like the perfect time to tell her exactly who I am and why I pursued her. Maybe I’ll even believe her enough to confess how much my feelings have changed since we met. In a perfect world, she’ll believe me in return and admit she loves me, too.
Or everything will blow up in my face, and I’ll wind up both empty-handed and alone.
“All right.” Her murmur is so soft the wind almost sweeps it away.
I drop an approving kiss on her shoulder. “Lean forward. Put your elbows on the rail.”
She does, looking back at me over her shoulder with trembling trust.
The acceptance on her face revs me up again. “Are you on the pill?”
“Yes.”
Even if I hadn’t seen evidence of that myself less than a week ago, I would have believed her earnest tone. “Have you ever had sex without a condom?”
“No.”
I spread kisses up her spine as I reach around her body to cup her mound. She’s drenched, as she always seems to be for me. At my touch she gasps, then melts with a moan.
My hand shakes as I align my crest to her entrance. “I’ve never had sex without a condom, either.”
Dad drilled the notion of safe sex into us, and I never wanted to be that guy who got a random girl pregnant, then paid for my carelessness for the next eighteen years. But I’m not asking her about this simply because I left my condoms on the other side of the cottage. I want this because everything inside me is driving me to take Bethany without any barriers between us. Am I daring her to prove that she trusts me? Am I trying to get as close to her as possible?
Probably. Yes. And I’m done questioning it. Right now, I’m just feeling.
Despite the orgasm I had a few minutes ago, my cock is hard and my body is primed. I want her. I want to imprint myself on her. No matter what happens, I’m never going to forget this woman. I’m going to make damn sure she never forgets me.
“Do you want me?” I nudge my bare cock against her so she knows exactly what I’m asking.
For a moment, she hesitates, then she nods—slowly at first. Soon, she’s looking back at me with something desperate in her eyes. “Please.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, then drop my mouth to the sensitive spot between her neck and her shoulder. “I want you so goddamn bad.”
“Take me.” Her voice is a whisper in the night. “Don’t stop.”
I know a dozen good reasons why I probably should walk away, but none of them compel me more than the connection I feel with Bethany right now.
I grip her hips, bend my knees, then surge inside her in one long, rough thrust.
She gasps and tosses her head back. The sight of all her platinum hair spilling down her narrow back and flirting with my hands at her waist turns me the fuck on. The feel of her, hot and silken and without a single barrier between us, almost undoes me where I stand.
It’s so good. I groan and surge deeper before I settle into a slow, grinding rhythm that has her gripping the railing like a lifeline and writhing with me in a silent plea for more. I give it to her as I settle my fingers over her clit and rub in soft circles. I’ve paid attention and learned her body. This is how she likes it best. So even though it’s killing me to put the brakes on my cadence, it feels totally worth it when she tightens around me and her needy bud turns to stone under my touch in seconds.
“Clint…” she keens.
“Right here,” I mutter in her ear. “Wanting you to feel so good.”
“Oh, god.” She clutches the rail like her legs are threatening to dissolve beneath her.
Eventually, I’ll speed up and send her careening toward orgasm, but I want to make this moment last as close to forever as possible. So I keep it slow, each bareback stroke of my cock a steady press inside her, a nudge against that sensitive spot high inside her, coupled with a lingering touch of her pouting clit. The friction sizzles me with so much sensation I swear I’m going to lose my damn mind. But I keep it up. For her.
“No. No!” she begs. “More.”
“I will, sweetheart. Eventually…” I taunt. “First, I want to feel you, see you, listen to you beg.”
“Please,” she pants. “Please!”
Loving the knowledge that I hold her satisfaction in my hands probably makes me a caveman, but there’s nothing better. Sure, I love orgasm. Who doesn’t? But I derive a thrill out of knowing she’s lowered her defenses and allowed me as deep inside her body and soul as a man can get. I never really understood the importance of that until this moment. But her honest responses to my touch are totally doing it for me, even as they’re turning me inside out.
