Читать книгу The Maisey Yates Collection : Cowboy Heroes: Take Me, Cowboy / Hold Me, Cowboy / Seduce Me, Cowboy / Claim Me, Cowboy / The Rancher's Baby - Maisey Yates - Страница 16
ОглавлениеAnna was beneath three blankets, and she was starting to swelter. If she hadn’t been too lazy to sit up and grab hold of her ice-cream container, she might not be quite so sweaty.
The fact that she was something of a cliché of what it meant to be a woman behind closed doors was not lost on her. Blankets, old movies, Ben & Jerry’s. But hey, she spent most of the day up to her elbows in engine grease, so she supposed she was entitled to a few stereotypes.
She reached her spoon out from beneath the blankets and scraped the top of the ice cream in the container, gathering up a modest amount.
“Oklahoma!” she sang, humming the rest of the line while taking the bite of marshmallow and chocolate ice cream and sighing as the sugar did its good work. Full-fat dairy products were the way to happiness. Or at least the best way she knew to stop from obsessing.
Her phone buzzed and she looked down, cringing when she saw Chase’s name. She swiped open the lock screen and read the message.
In your driveway. Didn’t want to give you a heart attack.
Why are you in my dr—
She didn’t get a chance to finish the message before there was a knock on her front door.
She closed her eyes, groaning. She really didn’t want to deal with him right now. In fact, he was the last person on earth she wanted to deal with. He was the reason she was currently baking beneath a stack of blankets, seeking solace in the bosom of old movies.
Still, she couldn’t ignore him. That would make things weirder. He was still her best friend, even if she had— Well, she wasn’t going to think about what she had. If she ignored him, it would only cater to the weirdness. It would make events from earlier today seem more important than they needed to be. They did not need to be treated as though they were important.
Sure, she had never exactly done that with a man. Sure, she hadn’t even had sexual contact of any kind with a man for the past several years. And sure, she had never had that kind of contact with Chase. But that was no reason to go assigning meaning. People got ribbons and stickers for their first trips to the dentist. They did not get them for giving their first blow job.
She groaned. Then she rolled off the couch, pushing herself into a standing position before she padded through the small living area to the entryway. She jerked the door open, pushing her hair out of her face and trying to look casual.
Too late, she realized that she was wearing her pajamas. Which were perfectly decent, in that they covered every inch of her body. But they were also baggy, fuzzy and covered in porcupines.
All things considered, it just wasn’t the most glorious of moments.
“Hello,” she said, keeping her body firmly planted in the center of the doorway.
“Hi,” he returned. Then he proceeded to study her pajamas.
“Porcupines,” she informed him, just for something to say.
“Good choice. Not an obvious one.”
“I guess not. Considering they aren’t all that cuddly. But neither am I. So maybe it’s a more obvious choice than it originally appears.”
“Maybe. We’ll have to debate animal-patterned pajama philosophy another time.”
“I guess. What exactly did you come here to debate if not that?”
He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Nothing. I just came to...check on you.”
“Sound of body and mind.”
“I see that. Except you’re in your pajamas at seven o’clock.”
“I’m preparing for an evening in,” she said, planting her hand on her hip. “So pajamas are logical.”
“Okay.”
She frowned. “I’m fine.”
“Can I come in?”
She was frozen for a moment, not quite sure what to say. If she let him come in...well, she didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of letting him in. But if she didn’t let him in, then she would be admitting that she was uncomfortable letting him in. Which would betray the fact that she actually wasn’t really all that okay. She didn’t want to do that, either.
No wonder she had avoided sexual contact for so long. It introduced all manner of things that she really didn’t want to deal with.
“Sure,” she said finally, stepping to the side and allowing him entry.
He just stood there, filling up the entry. She had never really noticed that before. How large he was in the small space of her home. Because he was Chase, and his presence here shouldn’t really be remarkable. It was now.
Because things had changed. She had changed them. She had kissed him the other day, and then...well, she had changed things.
“There. You are in,” she said, moving away from him and heading back into the living room. She took a seat on the couch, picking up the remote control and muting the TV.
“Movie night?”
“Every night is movie night with enough popcorn and a can-do attitude.”
“I admire your dedication. What’s on?”
“Oklahoma!”
He raised his brows. “You haven’t seen that enough times?”
“There is no such thing as seeing a musical too many times, Chase. Multiple viewings only enhance the experience.”
“Do they?”
“Sing-alongs, of course.”
“I should have known.”
She smiled, putting a blanket back over her lap, thinking of it as a sort of flannel shield. “You should know these things about me. Really, you should know everything about me.”
He cleared his throat, and the sudden awkwardness made her think of all the things he didn’t know about her. And the things that he did know. It hit her then—of course, right then, as he was standing in front of her—just how revealing what had happened earlier was.
Giving a guy pleasure like that...well, a woman didn’t do that unless she wanted him. It said a lot about how she felt. About how she had felt for an awfully long time. No matter that she had tried to quash it, the fact remained that she did feel attraction for him. Which he was obviously now completely aware of.
Silence fell like a boulder between them. Crushing, deadly.
“Anyway,” she said, the transition as subtle as a landslide. “Why exactly are you here?”
“I told you.”
“Right. Checking on me. I’m just not really sure why.”
“You know why,” he said, his tone muted.
“You check on every woman you have...encounters with?”
“You know I don’t. But you’re not every woman I have encounters with.”
“Still. I’m an adult woman. I’m neither shocked nor injured.”
She was probably both. Yes, she was definitely perilously close to being both.
He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. Which she hated, because they weren’t uncomfortable with each other. Ever. Or they hadn’t been before. “It would be rude of me not to make sure we aren’t...okay.”
She patted herself down. “Yes. Okay. Okay?”
“No,” he said.
“No? What the hell, man? I said I’m fine. Do we have to stand around talking about it?”
“I think we might. Because I don’t think you’re fine.”
“That’s bullshit, McCormack,” she said, rising from the couch and clutching her blanket to her chest. “Straight-up bullshit. Like you stepped in a big-ass pile somewhere out there and now you went and dragged it into my house.”
“If you were fine, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”
“I’m sorry, how did you want me to act?”
“Like an adult, maybe?” he said, his dark brows locking together.
“Um, I am acting like an adult, Chase. I’m pretending that a really embarrassing mistake didn’t happen, while I crush my regret and uncertainty beneath the weight of my caloric intake for the evening. What part of that isn’t acting like an adult?”
“We’re friends. This wasn’t some random, forgettable hookup.”
“It is so forgettable,” she said, her voice taking on that brash, loud quality that hurt her own ears. That she was starting to despise. “I’ve already forgotten it.”
“How?”
“It’s a penis, Chase, not the Sistine Chapel. My life was hardly going to be changed by the sight of it.”
He reached forward, grabbing hold of her arm and drawing her toward him. “Stop,” he bit out, his words hard, his expression focused.
“What are you doing?” she asked, some of her bravado slipping.
“Calling you on your bullshit, Anna.” He lowered his voice, his tone no less deadly. She’d never seen Chase like this. He didn’t get like this. Chase was fun, and light. Well, except for last night when he’d kissed her. But even then, he hadn’t been quite this serious. “I’ve known you for fifteen years. I know when your smile is hiding tears, little girl. I know when you’re a whole mess of feelings behind that brick wall you put up to keep yourself separate from the world. And I sure as hell know when you aren’t fine. So don’t stand there and tell me that it didn’t change anything, that it didn’t mean anything. Even if you gave out BJs every day with lunch—and I know you don’t—that would have still mattered because it’s us. And we don’t do that. It changed something, Anna, and don’t you dare pretend it didn’t.”
No. No. Her brain was screaming again, but this time she knew for sure what it was saying. It was all denial. She didn’t want him to look at her as if he was searching for something, didn’t want him to touch her as if it was only the beginning of something more. Didn’t want him to see her. To see how scared she was. To see how unnerved and affected she was. To see how very, very not brave she was beneath the shield she held up to keep the world out.
He already knows it’s a shield. And you’re already screwed ten ways, because you can’t hide from him and you never could.
He’d let her believe she could. And now he’d changed his mind. For some reason it was all over now. Well, she knew why. It had started with a dress and high heels and ended with an orgasm in her shop. He was right. It had changed things.
And she had a terrible, horrible feeling more was going to change before they could go back to normal.
If they ever could.
“Well,” she said, hearing her voice falter. Pretending she didn’t. “I don’t think anything needs to change.”
“Enough,” he said, his tone fierce.
Then, before she knew what was happening, he’d claimed her lips again in a kiss that ground every other kiss that had come before it into dust, before letting them blow away on the wind.
This was angry. Intense. Hot and hard. And it was happening in her house, in spite of the fact that she was holding a blanket and Oklahoma! was on mute in the background. It was her safe space, with her safe friend, and it was being wholly, utterly invaded.
By him.
It was confronting and uncomfortable and scary as hell. So she responded the only way she could. She got mad, too.
She grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, clinging to him tightly as she kissed him back. As she forced her tongue between his lips, claiming him before he could stake his claim on her.
She shifted, scraping her teeth lightly over his bottom lip before biting down. Hard.
He growled, wrapping his arms around her waist. She never felt small. Ever. She was a tall girl with a broad frame, but she was engulfed by Chase right now. His scent, his strength. He was all hard muscle against her, his heart thundering beneath her hands, which were pinned between their bodies.
She didn’t know what was happening, except that right now, kissing him might be safer than trying to talk to him.
It certainly felt better.
It let her be angry. Let her push back without saying anything. And more than that...he was an amazing kisser. He had taken her from zero to almost-there with one touch of his lips against hers.
He slid his hand down her back, cupping her butt and bringing her up even harder against him so she could feel him. All of him. And just how aroused he was.
He wanted her. Chase wanted her. Yes, he was pissed. Yes, he was...trying to prove a point with his tongue or whatever. But he couldn’t fake a hard-on like that.
She was angry, but it was fading. Being blotted out by the arousal that was crackling in her veins like fireworks.
Suddenly, she found herself being lifted off the ground, before she was set down on the couch, Chase coming down over her, his expression hard, his eyes sharp as he looked down at her.
He pressed his hand over her stomach, pushing the hem of her shirt upward.
She should stop him. She didn’t.
She watched as his strong, masculine hand pushed her shirt out of the way, revealing a wedge of skin. The contrast alone was enough to drive her crazy. Man, woman. Innocuous porcupine pajamas and sex.
Above all else, above anything else, there was Chase. Everything he made her feel. All of the things she had spent years trying not to feel. Years running from.
She couldn’t run. Not now. Not only did she lack the strength, she lacked the desire. Because more than safety, more than sanity, she wanted him. Wanted him naked, over her, under her, in her.
He gripped the hem of her top and wrenched it over her head, the movement sudden, swift. As though he had reached the end of his patience and had no reserve to draw upon. That left her in nothing more than those ridiculous baggy pajama pants, resting low on her hips. She didn’t have anything sexier underneath them, either.
But Chase didn’t look at all disappointed. He didn’t look away, either. Didn’t have a faraway expression on his face. She wasn’t sure why, but she had half expected to look up at him and be able to clearly identify that he was somewhere else in his mind, with someone else. But he was looking at her with a sharp focus, a kind of single-mindedness that no man, no one, had ever looked at her with before.
He knew. He knew who she was. And he was still hot for her. Still hard for her.
“You are so hot,” he said, pressing his hand flat to her stomach and drawing it down slowly, his fingertips teasing the sensitive skin beneath the waistband. “And you don’t even know it, do you?”
Part of her wanted to protest, wanted to fight back, because that was what she did. Instead, everything inside of her just kind of went limp. Melted into a puddle. “N-no.”
“You should know,” he said, his voice low, husky. A shot of whiskey that skated along her nerves, warming her, sending a kick of heat and adrenaline firing through her blood. “You should know how damn sexy you are. You’re the kind of woman who could make a man lose his mind.”
“I could?”
He laughed, but it wasn’t full of humor. It sounded tortured. “I’m exhibit A.”
He shifted his hips forward, his hard length pressing up against that very aroused part of her that wanted more of him. Needed more of him. She gasped. “Soon,” he said, the promise in his words settling a heavy weight in her stomach. Anticipation, terror. Need.
He continued to tease her, his fingertips resting just above the line of her panties, before he began to trail his hand back upward. He rested his palm over her chest, reaching up and tracing her lower lip with his thumb.
She darted her tongue out, sliding the tip of it over his skin, tasting salt, tasting Chase. A flavor that was becoming familiar.
Then she angled her head, taking his thumb into her mouth and sucking hard. His hips arched forward hard, his cock making firm contact, sending a shower of sparks through her body as he did.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, every word raw, frayed.
“I might say the same about you,” she said, her voice thick, unrecognizable. She didn’t know who she was right now. This creature who was a complete and total slave to sexual sensation. Who was so lost in it, she could feel nothing else. No sense of self-preservation, no fear kicking into gear and letting her know that she needed to put her walls up. That she needed to go on the defense.
She was reduced. She had none of that. And she didn’t even care.
“You’re a miracle,” he said, tracing the line of her collarbone with the tip of his tongue. “A damn miracle, do you know that?”
“What?”
“The other day I told you you didn’t look like a miracle. I was a fool. And I was wrong. Every inch of you is a miracle, Anna Brown.”
Those words were like being submerged in warm water, feeling it flow over every inch of her, a kind of deep, soul-satisfying comfort that she really, really didn’t want. Or rather, she didn’t want to want it. But she did, bad enough that she couldn’t resist.
But it was all a little too heavy. All a little too much. Still, she didn’t have the strength to turn him away.
“Kiss me.”
She said that instead of get the hell out of my house, and instead of we can’t do this, because it was all she had strength for. Because she needed that kiss. And maybe, just maybe, if they didn’t talk, she could make it through.
Chase—gentleman that he was—obliged her.
He angled his head, reaching up to cup her breast as he did, his mouth crashing down on hers just as his palm skimmed her nipple. She gasped, arching up against him, the combination of sensations almost too much to handle.
Yeah, she did not remember sex being like this. Granted, it had been a million years, but she would have remembered if it had come anywhere close to this. And her conclusion most certainly wouldn’t have been that it was vaguely boring and a little bit gross. Not if it had even been in the same ballpark as what she was feeling now.
There was no point in comparing. There was just flat out no comparison.
He kissed her, long, deep and hard; he kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. Until she thought she was going to die for wanting more. He kissed her until she was dizzy. And when he abandoned her mouth, she nearly wept. Until he lowered his head and skimmed his tongue over one hardened bud, until he drew it between his lips and sucked hard, before scraping her sensitized flesh with his teeth.
She arched against him, desperate for more. Desperate for satisfaction. Satisfaction he seemed intent on withholding.
“I’m so close,” she said, panting. “Just do it now.” Then it would be over. Then she would have what she needed, and the howling, yawning ache inside of her would be satisfied.
“No,” he said, his tone authoritative.
“What do you mean no?”
“Not yet. You’re not allowed to come yet, Anna. I’m not done.”
His words, the calm, quiet command, made everything inside of her go still. She wanted to fight him. Wanted to rail against that cruel denial of her needs, but she couldn’t.
Not when this part of him was so compelling. Not when she wanted so badly to see where complying would lead.
“We’re not done,” he said, tracing her nipple with the tip of his tongue, “until I say we are.” He lifted his head so that their eyes met, the prolonged contact touching something deep inside of her. Something that surpassed the physical.
He kissed her again, and as he did, he pulled his T-shirt over his head, exposing his incredible body to her.
Her mouth dried, and other parts of her got wet. Very, very wet.
“Oh, sweet Lord,” she said, pressing her hand to his chest and drawing her fingertips down over his muscles, his chest hair tickling her skin as she did.
It was a surreal moment. So strange and fascinating. To touch her best friend like this. To see his body this way, to know that—right now—it wasn’t off-limits to her. To know that she could lean forward and kiss that beautiful, perfect dip just next to his hip bone. Suddenly, she was seized with the desire to do just that. And she didn’t have to fight it.
She pushed against him, bringing herself into a sitting position, lowering her head and pressing her lips to his heated skin.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, his voice rough. He took hold of her wrist, drawing her up so that she was on her knees, eye to eye with him on the couch. “We’re not finishing it like that,” he said.
“Damn straight we aren’t,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to get a little taste.”
“You give way too much credit to my self-control, honey.”
“You give too much credit to mine. I’ve never...” She stared at his chest instead of finishing her sentence. “It’s like walking into a candy store and being told I can have whatever I want. Restraint is not on the menu.”
“Good,” he said, leaning in, kissing her, nipping her lower lip. “Restraint isn’t what I want.”
He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her up against him, her bare breasts pressing against his hard chest, the hair there abrading her nipples in the most fantastic, delicious way.
And then he was kissing her again, slow and deep as his hand trailed down beneath the waistband of her pants, cupping her ass, squeezing her tight. He pushed her pants down over her hips, taking her panties with them, leaving her completely naked in front of him.
He stood up, taking his time looking at her as he put his hands on his belt buckle.
Nerves, excitement, spread through her. She didn’t know where to look. At the harsh, hungry look on his face, at the beautiful lines of muscle on his perfectly sculpted torso. At the clear and aggressive arousal visible through his jeans.
So she looked at all of him. Every last bit. And she didn’t have time to feel embarrassed that she was sitting there naked as the day she was born, totally exposed to him for the first time.
She was too fascinated by him in this moment. Too fascinated to do anything but stare at him.
This was Chase McCormack. The man that women lost their minds—and their dignity—over on a regular basis. This was Chase McCormack, the sex god who could—and often did—have any woman he pleased.
She had known Chase McCormack, loyal friend and confidant, for a very long time. But she realized that up until now, she had never met this Chase McCormack. It was a strange, dizzying realization. Exhilarating.
And she was suddenly seized by the feeling that right now, he was hers. All hers. Because who else knew both sides of him? Did anyone?
She was about to.
“Get your pants off, McCormack,” she said, impatience overriding common sense.
“You don’t get to make demands here, Anna,” he said.
“I just did.”
“You want to try giving orders? You have to show me you can follow them.” His eyes darkened, and her heart hammered harder, faster. “Spread your legs,” he said, his words hard and uncompromising.
She swallowed. There was that embarrassment that she had just been so proud she had bypassed. But this was suddenly way outside her realm of experience. It was one thing to sit there in front of him naked. It was quite another to deliberately expose herself the way he was asking her to. She didn’t move. She sat there, frozen.
“Spread your legs for me,” he repeated, his voice heavy with that soft, commanding tone. “Or I put my clothes on and leave.”
“You wouldn’t,” she said.
“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
That was true. In this scenario, she really didn’t know him. He was a stranger, except he wasn’t.
Actually, if he had been a stranger, all of this would’ve been a lot easier. She could have spread her legs and she wouldn’t have worried about how she looked. Wouldn’t have worried about the consequences. If a stranger saw her do something like that, was somehow unsatisfied and then walked away, well, what did it matter? But this was Chase. And it mattered. It mattered so very much.
His hands paused on his belt buckle. “I’m warning you, Anna. You better do as you’re told.”
For some reason, that did not make her want to punch him. For some reason, she found herself sitting back on the couch, obeying his command, opening herself to him, as adrenaline skittered through her system.
“Good girl,” he said, continuing his movements, pushing his jeans and underwear down his legs and exposing his entire body to her for the first time. And then, it didn’t matter so much that she was sitting there with her thighs open for him. Because now she had all of him to look at.
The light in his eyes was intense, hungry, and he kept them trained on her as he reached down and squeezed himself hard. His jaw was tense, the only real sign of just how frayed his control was.
“Beautiful,” he said, stroking himself slowly, leisurely, as he continued to gaze at her.
“Are you just going to look? Or are you going to touch?” She wasn’t entirely comfortable with this. With him just staring. With this aching silence between them, and this deep, overwhelming connection that she felt.
There were no barriers left. There was no way to hide. She was vulnerable, in every way. And normally she hated it. She kind of hated it now. But that vulnerability was wrapped in arousal, in a sharp, desperate need unlike anything she had ever known. And so it was impossible to try to put distance between them, impossible to try to run away.
“I’m going to do a lot more than look,” he said, dropping down to his knees, “and I’m going to do a hell of a lot more than touch.” He reached out, sliding his hands around to her ass, drawing her forward, bringing her up toward his mouth.
“Chase,” she said, the short, shocked protest about the only thing she managed before the slick heat of his tongue assaulted that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. “You don’t have to...”
He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting her. “Oh, I know I don’t have to. But you got to taste me, and I think turnabout is fair play.”
“But that wasn’t...”
“What?”
“It’s just that men...”
“Expect a lot more than they give. At least some of them. Anyway, as much as I liked what you did for me—and don’t get me wrong, I liked it a lot—you have no idea how much pleasure this gives me.”
“How?”
He leaned in, resting his cheek on her thigh. “The smell of you.” He leaned closer, drawing his tongue through her slick folds. “The taste of you,” he said. “You.”
And then she couldn’t talk anymore. He buried his face between her legs, his tongue and fingers working black magic on her body, pushing her harder, higher, faster than she had imagined possible. Yeah, making out with Chase had been enough to nearly give her an orgasm. This was pushing her somewhere else entirely.
In her world, orgasm had always been a solo project. Surrendering the power to someone else, having her own pleasure not only in someone else’s hands but in his complete and utter control, was something she had never even thought possible for her. But Chase was proving her wrong.
He slipped a finger deep inside of her as he continued to torture her with his wicked mouth, then a second, working them in and out of her slick channel while he teased her with the tip of his tongue.
A ball of tension grew in her stomach, expanded until she couldn’t breathe. “It’s too much,” she gasped.
“Obviously it’s not enough yet,” he said, pushing her harder, higher.
And when the wave broke over her, she thought she was done for. Thought it was going to drag her straight out to sea and leave her to die. She couldn’t catch her breath as pleasure assaulted her, going on and on, pounding through her like a merciless tide, battering her against the rocks, leaving her bruised, breathless.
And when it was over, Chase was looming over her, a condom in his hand.
She felt like a creature without its shell. Sensitive, completely unprotected. She wanted to hide from him, hide from this. But she couldn’t. How could she? The simple truth was, they still weren’t done. They had gone only part of the way. And if they didn’t finish this, she would always wonder. He would, too.
She imagined that—whether or not he admitted it—was why he had come here tonight in the first place.
They had opened the lid on Pandora’s box. And they couldn’t close it until they had examined every last dirty, filthy sin inside of it.
Even though she thought it might kill her, she knew that they couldn’t stop now.
He tore open the condom, positioning the protection over the blunt head of his arousal, rolling it down slowly.
She was transfixed. The sight of his own hand on his shaft so erotic she could hardly stand it.
She would pay good money to watch him shower, to watch his hands slide over all those gorgeous muscles. To watch him take himself in hand and lead himself to completion.
Oh, yeah. That was now her number-one fantasy. Which was a problem, because it was a fantasy that would never be fulfilled.
Don’t think about that now. Don’t think about it ever.
He leaned in, kissing her, guiding her so that she was lying down on the couch, then he positioned himself between her legs, testing the entrance to her body before thrusting forward and filling her completely.
She closed her eyes tight, unable to handle the feeling of being invaded by him, both in body and in her soul.
“Look at me,” he said.
And once more, she was completely helpless to do anything other than obey.
She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his, touching her down deep, where his hands never could.
And then he kissed her, soft, gentle. That kind of tenderness that had been missing from her life for so long. The kind that she had always been too embarrassed to ask for from anyone. Too embarrassed to show that she needed. That she desperately craved.
But Chase knew. Because he was Chase. He just knew.
He flexed his hips again, his pelvis butting up against her, sending a shower of sparks through her body. There was no way she was ready to come again. Except he kept moving, creating new sensations inside of her, deeper than what had come before.
It shouldn’t be possible for her to have another orgasm now. Not after the first one had stripped her so completely. But apparently tonight, nothing was impossible.
There was something different about this. About the two of them, working toward pleasure together. This wasn’t just her giving it out to him, or him reciprocating. This was something they were sharing.
She focused on pieces of him. The intensity in his eyes. The way the tendons in his neck stood out, evidence of the control he was exerting. She looked at his hand, up by her head, grabbing hold of one of the blankets she had been using, clinging tightly to it, as though it were his lifeline.
She looked down at his throat, at the pulse beating there.
All these close, intimate snapshots of this man that she knew better than anyone else.
Her chest felt heavy, swollen, and then it began to expand. She was convinced that she was going to break apart. All of these feelings, all of this pleasure. It was just too much. She couldn’t handle it.
“Please,” she begged. “Please.”
He released his grip on the blanket to grasp her hips, holding her steady as he pounded harder into her, as he pounded them both toward release. Toward salvation. It was too much. It needed to end. It was all she could think. She was begging him inside. End it, Chase. Please, end it.
Orgasm latched on to her throat like a wild beast, gripping her hard, violently, shaking her, pleasure exploding over her. Ugly. Completely and totally beyond control.
And then Chase let out a hoarse cry, freezing above her as he thrust inside her one last time, shivering, shaking as his own release took hold.
They were captive to it together. Powerless to do anything but wait until the savage beast was finished having its way. Until it was ready to move on.
And when it was over, only the two of them were left.
Just the two of them. Chase and Anna. No clothes, no shields.
She remembered the real reason she hadn’t had sex since that first time. It had nothing to do with how good or bad it had felt. Nothing to do with what a jerk she’d been after.
It had been this. This feeling of being unable to hide. But with the other guy, it had been easy to regroup. Easy to pretend she felt nothing.
She couldn’t do that with Chase. She was defenseless.
And for the first time in longer than she could remember, a tear slid down her cheek.
