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The press of my loose breasts against his chest feels like a wild ride, my nipples hard and rubbing against his thick pecs. His arms feel like bands of steel encased in hot velvet. His mouth moves on my jaw, planting little kisses as he makes his way to my mouth.
This feels so good.
That must mean you wanted it four years ago, cackles a nasty voice in my head.
My face twists with agony, Drew’s tongue turning cold in my mouth, my body getting smaller and smaller as I panic, a thousand images of blood and pain and degradation swirling with the feel of his affection.
He breaks the kiss “What’s wrong?”
I whimper.
“Too much?”
I nod.
He pulls me in, tucking my head against his shoulder. He strokes my hair, gentling me. “It’s okay. It’s fine. You’re fine. We stopped. We’ll always stop when you want to stop. You’re in charge, Lindsay.”
I open my mouth to make a sarcastic comment but nothing comes out.
Because a part of me really believes him.
I look up and my knee digs into the bed, propelling me, and I’m kissing him again. Lost in the lush feel of everything, that insidious voice can’t be heard. I refuse to hear it. I have power now. I decide what my body does. I decide what my mind tries to tell me.
Drew’s right.
I have a choice.
I can’t control the horrors that are stored within, but I can battle them, by God.
His slow inhale turns to a low groan as the kiss keeps going, my hands hungry, my mind fighting me for control. I won’t surrender.
To anyone but Drew.
All the secrets are gone, and yesteryear’s confusion cleared up. He’s breathing hard against me, his hands roaming up my back, covering my ribs, asking an unspoken question.
“Please touch me,” I beg. “Please.” He cups one breast and my entire body heats up, skin tingling.
“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers, the rush of air against my ear making me shudder. One thumb strums my nipple until it’s rock hard, and I press my belly against his, wanting to feel his hardness. It’s there, a long outline against his trousers, straining for release.
It has been so, so long since I felt pleasure with a man. With Drew.
Like this.
Maybe this is how I truly heal.
Suddenly, there is not enough Drew in the world for me. I want his hands everywhere, his eyes on me, his tongue along my teeth, his hands on my heated flesh, his fingers making me warm and wet and exploding. Frantic, I tighten my grip, and he roars in response, unleashing the politeness he’s kept in place since I came home.
He hovers over me, all bone and muscle, hard against my curves, his sounds the music of passion and need.
“What do you want, Lindsay,” he rasps against my neck, one hand cupping my breast up, pushing with the firm touch of a man. No tentative college guy, this version of Drew: he knows what he wants but is deferring to me because of my past.
Fuck that.
“I want it all. Erase everything I know and give me everything new, Drew,” I plead.
“I’ll do my damnedest. God, I’ve missed you so much,” His fingers thread through my hair, one hand on my ribcage, fingers tickling my breast. His hands slide to my waistband as he ravages my mouth with a kiss that makes me dizzy.
It feels so good to feel.
