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“He’s very protective of you, Greer. Rightly so.”
“He’d also be a hypocrite to keep me from the perfect opportunity to have great sex with the perfect guy.”
My blood roars. I like this Greer—the one who says it like it is. Who keeps it real. Fights for what she wants.
“I’m not perfect.”
“Yes, you are. You’re perfect because you care about how I feel. What I think. You’re the only guy I’ve ever met who’s asked about, like, my interior world or whatever.”
I feel my lips curl into a grin, and I open my eyes. “It’s not ‘whatever’. It’s who you are. I like who you are.”
“I like who you are,” she says softly. “Which is why I want to do this with you and no one else. You always ask about me. Not because you want to get laid, but because you actually care.”
Another twist inside my chest. Is she reading my mind?
Are we the same person?
Am I in the middle of some kind of cardiac event thanks to holding back this long? My dick is halfway inside her. I’m voracious for more.
Searching Greer’s face, a small voice inside me wonders what would happen if I believed what my therapist keeps telling me. That I didn’t destroy Lizzie’s life. That I couldn’t and shouldn’t have done anything differently.
That I’m actually a decent person who’s gone through some hard shit.
Grace is the word my therapist keeps using. Apparently I need to give myself some.
I need to give Greer some too.
“You definitely should’ve told me,” I finally say.
“I know. That was stupid.” She runs her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, gaze flicking to my mouth. “Let’s try again.”
“How?” I protest, but I still press a little bit more inside her. I’m shaking with the effort not to sink to the hilt.
She takes my face in her hand. “Kiss me, Brooks.”
I look at her. She looks back. Her eyes are sharp, alert. But warm too. No more tears. Just honest, open need.
There’s a wallop inside my breastbone. Down near the bottom, the spot just above my stomach. For a second I can’t breathe.
I want her too badly.
I like her too much.
Yep. Definitely fucked.
Definitely not going to stop.
So I lean in and kiss her, pulling at her mouth like a man dying of thirst. She keeps her hand on my face, opening my lips with her tongue. It’s the perfect give and take.
“Talk to me,” I murmur into her kiss. “Tell me how you feel. I’m going to push a little deeper, okay?”
She sinks her teeth into my neck. “Okay. I’m okay.”
“Open your eyes. Let me see.”
Greer does as I tell her. Our gazes lock. No more tears.
Good.
I watch her face as I rock my hips. I sink a centimeter. An inch. Her breath catches, tits pressing into my chest, and I stop. Her eyebrows are curving upward again.
“Talk.”
“It feels . . . tight.”
I growl, ducking to take her nipple in my mouth. “No shit. You’re so tight it kind of hurts me too.”
“It does?”
“In a good way,” I quickly add. “I’m already so close to coming I could scream.”
“Come, then.”
I shake my head, working my way back up to her neck. She sucks in a breath. “Not yet, sweetheart.”
“It’s feeling better. Keep going.”
“Then I’m going to be all the way in.”
“Yes. Please. That’s okay.”
I meet her eyes. Grab her hand and lace my fingers through hers on the sheets beside her head. “Take a deep breath.”
“All right.” She nods, blinking.
There’s that wallop again. She’s scared. But she trusts me to do it right. To guide her.
I press my lips to the spot underneath her ear. I kiss her chin. Her mouth. I draw my thumb across her palm. Eyes on hers.
And then I press all the way inside her. I nearly bite off my tongue at the feel of her clamping down on me. My balls tighten.
She whimpers, eyes welling again.
“I’m sorry.” I keep kissing her. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. It will get better. I promise.”
When did we start making promises to each other?
She swallows again, the pain in her eyes slowly melting to want. “It’s . . . better.”
“Then I’m going to move a little bit. It feels better when you move, even though it doesn’t seem like it now.”
“All right.”
I press my forehead to hers. She likes that too. Our noses touch.
That, I like.
Tensing my ab muscles, I pull out of her the tiniest bit. Slide back in. A spark catches between my legs.
I’m hanging by a thread.
Her mouth falls open as I thrust again. And again. Each time a little deeper.
“Pain,” she says. I stop. She grabs my ass and presses me back inside her. “But it’s good pain.”
I search her eyes. “You like it when it hurts?”
“Maybe.” She bites her lip, thinking. “I think so, yeah.”
Seriously. Fuck.
Fuck fuck fuck.
