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“That isn’t why it’s not fair,” I said, fiery desire flowing through me.
“Then why?”
“Because I don’t want to escape,” I told her.
Then I flipped her. Not onto her back, not trapping her. Just onto her side, pressed flush against me. And I took her mouth like it was my prize. She leaned into me, her fingers gripped my shirt. She sucked my lower lip, opened her eyes and met my gaze. “You okay?” I whispered roughly. I needed to check in with her, knowing how she’d reacted earlier to my hand near her neck because of all she’d been through before.
“You said it yourself. You’re not going to hurt me. This is you. You and me. Right?” she said. Her eyes burned into mine, my stomach tightening, my cock hardened even more under her gaze.
“Right,” I said.
That was the last thing either of us said for a long time.
16
JULIE
Not since I got away from Eric, not once had I even come close to sleeping with anyone. I hadn’t thought I’d ever want to again. I figured that he broke that part of me, the part that could even experience desire or excitement or satisfaction. But here I was, on the floor of my apartment with Darren Beckett. He kissed me, and even asked if I was okay like a complete gentleman. I knew a hundred percent that he’d have backed away if I had hesitated at all. That was the thing. Instinct took over. I wanted him. All of him.
The strong silent type, the taciturn ex-Marine who spent most of his time at the edge of things, beefy, muscled arms crossed, observing every detail around him with deadly expertise. Except now his big, calloused hand worked the hem of my nightshirt up my thigh. And oh my God, the rasp of his skin against mine was electric. Heat coursed through me. I felt slippery between my legs already. The fact was, it had been unusual, what I did on Labor Day weekend. I didn’t usually get worked up at all, and on the rare occasions when I had the time and inclination to get myself off, I didn’t usually climax, and if I did, it took forever and was hardly worth the effort. This, however, this was vivid and sharp, a sizzling current in my bloodstream. My nipples stiffened, and I pressed myself against his chest, hoping that he felt it, hoping he could tell he made my nipples hard, that he was turning me on, making me slick for him. I wanted him inside me. In a way I never thought I would want a man ever again.
When Darren, so big and masculine, almost brutal looking with his stubborn jaw, his default scowl, his heavy muscles, brushed the hair back from my forehead, a swoop in my stomach startled me. It was excitement tinged with nervousness. It took a moment to access what I was feeling—vulnerability. I was willingly vulnerable to him, wanting to surrender. I reached for his shoulder, a big slab of muscle, and pulled. Of course, I couldn’t budge him at all, but as I rolled onto my back, he saw my meaning. I wanted this. Wanted him over me, above me, consuming me. My shoulders pressed into the rug, and Darren levered himself above me, dipped his head, and kissed the sensitive spot behind my jaw. He licked and kissed and sucked at my throat, and I bared it to him, arched my neck, giving him access to part of my body I didn’t feel good about or safe about. He chased away that apprehension with sensation, with his steamy kisses, his hot tongue. I shivered, which made no sense when I was aflame.
Darren stoked my arousal patiently. He kissed my lips and returned his mouth to my neck. He slid his hand up my thigh, brushed his knuckle through the slippery mess between my legs. He dragged his knuckle along my seam, and I clenched, my leg jerking in reaction. My reflexes were haywire. It had been so long since I trusted anyone this much. Darren moved his mouth over my breast, sucking my hard nipple through my nightshirt. Arching up off the floor, my back bowed, my head going back. His hot mouth ministered to my aching flesh, sucking and nipping. The sound I made was an anguished moan.
Rough fingers found my slit, my swollen tissues parting with a lush, damp sound. He sank his fingers into my pussy with a tight sound from his chest. Darren’s raw need was a potent aphrodisiac. He strummed at my clit with his calloused thumb, adding a sharp edge to my mounting pleasure. I looked up at him, bit my lip. Deeper, he stroked into me, pumped his fingers, stretching me. He knew I was tight, I was tense, and he primed me, readied me. I bucked when his fingertip brushed some kind of epic place inside my tight channel.
