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I craved his touch.
His taste.
The feel of him on top of me and in between my legs.
All his adoration.
His love.
Devotion.
Every laugh.
Smile.
Everything and anything.
I just wanted him.
Reaching for the front of his shirt, I helped him pull it over his head to toss on the floor next to my dress. My fingers pressed against the pulse of his neck, wanting to feel it beating only for me. I stayed there for a few seconds, slowly skimming them down to his heart and then his taut abs until I reached for his belt.
The warmth and softness of his skin made my sex clench and my stomach flutter. The butterflies he always stirred never got old. It was one of my favorite emotions he evoked.
The feelings he ignited inside of me were what fairy tales were made of. I never thought I’d find a love like his.
Like ours.
Chapter Fourteen
—Kinley—
I thanked my lucky stars he came into my life when he did, making me believe I was worth being loved. I grew up on my own, with my mother constantly calling me a burden, annoying, saying she wished she'd never had me.
When you’d heard it enough, you started to believe it. I spent years telling myself I wasn’t an accident or a mistake, I had a purpose, and maybe it was to save her from her own madness.
I tried for years and never could, yet still … I wished I had.
Her voice messages on our answering machine were getting more persistent, and little by little she was beginning to stir that desire to have her in my life again.
She said she was sober, clean, and taking her medication.
The little girl in me wanted to believe her, but I’d heard it all before, too many times to count. Her lies always sounded like truths. No matter how many she told me, I couldn’t tell the difference.
“Hey…” Christian stressed. “Where did you go?”
“I’m sorry.” I shook my head, covering my face. “I’m ruining this.”
“Babe.” He pulled my hands away. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Kinley, don’t hide from me.”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life, and it brought on these memories of my mother telling me I was worthless.” My eyes widened. “Here you are, wanting to make love to me, and I’m thinking about my mom. Jesus… I’m so fucked up. I’m sorry, Christian.”
“What did I tell you the first time I put my hands on you?”
“That you’d always replace my bad memories with your love for me.”
