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“Because.” He strokes his rough thumbs over my cheeks, and I melt into his touch. “I’m afraid to lose you.”
“Lose me? Why?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have much to offer you, Princess.”
“You’ve offered me everything I’ve ever wanted.”
“I love you.”
“You see? Everything.”
“I want you to have the job you want.”
“Also you gave me my freedom.”
“I want you to find yourself.”
“And your total support.”
“To be happy. Tess, are you even listening to me?”
Kiss me, I want to tell him, but nod instead. “Every word.”
“I can’t ask for more,” he whispers.
And I want him to. To ask everything of me, just like he gives everything to me.
I kiss him, pouring my love, my soul into the kiss, until he groans and slides his hands to the back of my head, holding me in place, eating at my mouth.
His body presses against mine, stronger and more muscular than ever, perfected through long hours of practice at school and training at the gym with Rafe and the guys. My breasts push into his sculpted chest, and his hard-on brands my stomach through the clothes.
He walks me backward, into the bed, lowering me onto the mattress and climbing over me, muscular thighs parting my legs so he can lie between them.
Planting his elbows on either side of my head, he leans in to kiss me again. “Never loved anyone like I love you,” he whispers against my lips. “Never wanted anyone so much.”
“Dyl…” I tug on the hem of his shirt, impatiently, needing to feel him naked on me.
He lets me pull the T-shirt over his head. It drops somewhere off the bed, and I lick my lips at the sight of his bare chest, so hard and perfect, his defined abs and pecs, the tattoos swirling over his skin. “You’re the only one for me, Tess.”
“I want you.” I tug on his pants. “Please.”
Something shifts in his eyes. Dark desire flares, and with it… disappointment? Like a light going out.
This makes no sense.
“Dylan?” I let go of his pants to touch his face.
He doesn’t reply, or leave me time to wonder any more about this, crushing his mouth again to mine and worming his rough hand under my blouse. His fingers are hot and callused, catching on the lace of my bra—and then they find my breast and squeeze.
The breath leaves my lungs as desire swamps me, turning off my brain and setting my body on fire. I arch against him, grabbing onto his powerful shoulders before I freefall into the flames.
“Need you,” I whisper, and his answer is a groan as he pushes up my skirt and presses his jeans-clad hardness into my seam. “Now.”
Normally he likes playing with my body, bringing me to the edge time and again before entering me and filling me up—but tonight his playful mood is gone. I thought I’d glimpsed it earlier, but now he’s all dark want as his hands fumble with his zipper and drag out his cock.
Then he’s pulling aside my panties and pushing into me, making me gasp. It burns, and I shouldn’t like it so much when he’s rough with me, but God, I do. He feels so good, stretching me, thrusting into me until there’s not an inch more to go, and his face…
His face’s tight with the effort it takes him to stop still, waiting for me to adjust, to show that I’m ready for him to move, and he’s gorgeous. The clear cut of his jaw, the softness of his mouth, the crescent of his lowered lashes, the gold of his hair, the straining in his chest and those broad shoulders as he bends over me, covering me with his male musk scent, it’s all so sexy, and yet so familiar.
