No Saint (Wild Men 6)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Luna

Ross is a whirlwind, taking me in his arms, stealing my breath, hauling me inside the house. He’s tearing at my clothes before the door is even shut behind us, his mouth hot and hard on mine, chasing after every little sound I make as his hands map my body.

It’s dark as we stumble into his room, panting, and okay, I’m as invested in undressing him as he is—but he plays dirty and before I can as much as undo his jeans buttons, he has me on the bed, panties torn, bra gone, pumping his cock and bracing himself over me.

“I want you,” he breathes, and a dark undercurrent in his voice raises goosebumps on my skin. “Right now. I just...”

It’s not anger in his voice, like I expected. Well, sort of expected, and I was ready for a fight, though I didn’t want it. I want to tell him... the truth, and...

“God, you’re sweet,” he growls in the back of his throat, and moves lower to kiss my breasts, to lick my nipples, sending electric shocks of pleasure straight between my legs.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

“I’m fine.”

No time to question it because he’s pushing his cock into me and we’re moving together, sweaty bodies sliding in a dance old as time, faster now, more frantic, as if in a race to reach the end, to break the ribbon, to shatter and come apart.

“This isn’t love,” he grunts as he moves inside me, “it means nothing.”

I frown even as I clutch at his shoulders. “Ross...”

It’s like he’s replying to what I said when I last was here, and, God, I’ve regretted saying that so many times over the past days, have debated with myself about telling him, admitting how I feel.

But that would be stupid, wouldn’t it? Trusting him with my heart like that, so soon, or ever.

“Not goddamn love,” he repeats, “it’s not love,” like a mantra, like a chant, and he’s grunting with every deep thrust.

Why does it hurt to hear it? I’m the one who said it first, who seemed to ask for this distance.

“Isn’t it?” I whisper.

Isn’t it love?

He stills, stares down at me, and it’s all I can do not to writhe, pinned down, filled to bursting with his throbbing cock. Nailed by that pale blue gaze where shadows shift like clouds, questions and secrets and what looks like anger—or maybe hope?—before he slams down his shields and looks away.

Looks away and bends down to lay his body on top of mine, thrusting deeper into me, so deep, and so good, taking my breath away. I lift my legs up to wrap around him, digging my heels into his taut ass as he starts pounding into me, really giving it to me, grunting with every thrust, and I swear his cock swells more. A fine tremor starts in his arms, propped on the elbows on either side of me, and a pained groan escapes him.

“Ross?” I breathe, not sure if I should be worried after the way he’s been acting tonight.

He doesn’t say anything for long moments, rocking into me, lean hips pressed to mine, his leg muscles flexing, his ass clenching. He glances down at me and where his eyes looked guarded before, a million feelings seem to race behind them now.

“Kiss me,” he finally says, and something in his voice cracks.

It jolts me, shakes me to the core, the pain I can hear for just one second before he turns his gaze away again. He doesn’t speak again after that, just moves inside me, and I want to weep but I can’t because he’s making me feel so good while breaking my heart. I’m about to come, and tears spill from my eyes.

I never thought of sex as anything more than physical, but now I’ve done it with him, I realize it’s so much more. Where bodies meet, feelings coil, waiting to strike. Being like this with him means so much to me, probably so much more than it means to him, to someone who’s screwed the whole town before I came along.

It splits me wide open in every way and I can’t hide from him. I cling to him, move with him, and even as I open my mouth to say it, tell the truth, admit that what I feel for him goes so much deeper than worry and wary affection, that I’m in love with him but don’t know where that would lead and I’m afraid, so afraid to let myself fall all the way... release com

es in a thundering wave, wiping out my thoughts and making me cry out in pleasure, white edging my sight and filling my mind.

Thought splinters further when he stiffens and pulls out of me in a rush, spilling all over my stomach and boobs, each breath a ragged gasp, his beautiful face twisted with the intensity of his orgasm.

It turns me inside out, makes my throat go tight and my eyes blurry.

What am I going to do with this boy? I almost told him how I feel. When did I give away my heart to him completely, lost myself to him so much that I can’t hold back anymore?