The Seduction

He blows out a long breath before leaning over and brushing a lingering kiss on my lips. Already I’m heating up for him, and I’m glad he made the extra effort to apologize. It tells me he understood how upset I was last night. It’s more than anyone’s ever done in acknowledgment of my feelings. He’s always so much more.

When he pulls up to his small house, I feel an overwhelming sense of belonging and home. Kinda scary given my earlier thoughts about how fast and intense this relationship is becoming.

Once inside, instead of settling in front of the television, he’s pacing by the big bay window overlooking the front lawn. “What’s wrong?”

He folds his arms across his chest, and my gaze is drawn to the muscles bulging from the edge of the sleeves. He doesn’t answer for so long I wonder if he will. “This thing between us. It’s more than I expected.”

Eerily, he’s reading my mind, paralleling my emotions and feelings. “Yeah. I was just thinking that myself.”

He tips his head to one side, studying me. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing,” he says.

The vulnerability in the admission surprises me, and I’m melting for his aching sweetness. I walk over and pull his arms down so I can clasp his hand. “I don’t know what I’m doing either, if that helps. I think we’re both feeling our way through new territory here.”

“I’m just … I’m not sure I can do this,” he mutters.

My stomach plummets hard. “Then why the flowers? The chocolates? The I need to see you?” What am I doing here? I wonder.

He spins around and pins me with that steely gaze filled with desire. “You make me crazy.” He stalks over and scoops me into his arms and heads toward the steps leading to the small bedroom upstairs.

“You can’t do this hot-cold thing,” I say, my fingers already in his hair. My breasts are heavy, and desire is filling me, making me ache.

“I won’t,” he says with certainty. “It’s over. Done. I’m yours.” He tosses me onto the bed and comes down over me.

He’s hungry. Starving for me, and he makes it clear by kissing me senseless. There’s nothing gentle about him, and I don’t care. I don’t need gentle. I do need him, and despite his angst, he’s just given exactly that, and I can’t help but respond.

We are both greedy, lifting and peeling off each other’s clothing, lips wherever we can reach. Soon we’re both naked, and heaven descends on me in the form of his warm, hot body covering mine. He kisses my lips, my cheek, suckles on my earlobes, grazes his teeth against my neck.

It’s not enough. Not for me and not for him.

All the while, I’m arching against him, tugging at his hair, begging him to keep going, to stop and fill me, to touch me, fuck me, anything and everything he wants to do with me and to me, it’s okay. He’s mine and I’m his.

Suddenly he flips, and I’m sitting astride him, naked, my aching core nestled against his hard length. Unable to take the need and the heat, I begin rocking against him, that sensitive spot hitting his pubic bone and the waves of desire building inside me.

“That’s it, Princess. Take what you need. You’re so fucking beautiful like this.”

I’m too far gone to think or be embarrassed, my only concern the explosion that’s so close to consuming me. He threads his fingers through mine and encourages me to keep going, to ride him, to come.

He says the word, and my world implodes, the most incredible orgasm skyrocketing through me. And I keep circling my hips and riding him as he asked, until the waves recede and I collapse, limp against him.

He flips me over, pauses for protection, and then slams into me. I wouldn’t think I’d feel anything again so soon, but no sooner do I feel him, thick and gloriously hard, than my body responds. I arch my hips and meet his thrusts, and soon I’m rising toward the peak again.

His hips pump into me, and he starts to speak, except it’s not dirty words this time, it’s whispered endearments that wrap around me tighter than his body. Words that have power. Words like mine.

Mine.

#

Zach and I are in his kitchen, laughing over co-made French toast. We each have our own special ingredient. His is almond extract, and mine is a dash of orange liqueur. We compromised and used both.

I’m wearing nothing but an old tee shirt of his. No panties, no bra, and it feels decadent, hanging out with the man I love—

Whoa. My brain screeches to a halt and doesn’t kick back into gear again. Love? I glance at the man who’s waiting for me, sitting in nothing but a pair of sweats that hang low on his hips, the skin on his chest golden in the sunlight streaming in from the window. My mouth waters, but my feelings for him are so much more than surface deep. I inhale deeply and accept the truth.

I’m in love with Zach Anders.

I won’t ruin this moment by telling him about my feelings. Not now. It’s too soon; they’re too new. I want to sit with them a bit. Process them. Savor them. Love them a little inside me before bringing them into daylight to share — and hope he feels the same way. But I’m really going to have to tell him about the sex video going viral. It’s not fair to have him find out about it another way.