Baden (Pittsburgh Titans 1)

Such an orgasm should wreck me, but I’m only half completed by it. I need to have him inside me, so my hands convey urgency as I push at his shorts. I’m bad at this, trying to control the quaking of my body, take his tongue in my mouth, and get him naked.

He chuckles against my mouth and uses his far superior strength and arm length to remove his shorts.

More kissing, touching, stroking. I take him in my hand and squeeze, and it elicits a growl of pleasure from him that I actually feel between my legs.

“Baden,” I pant, using my hands to pull him on top of me.

Spreading my legs.

Giving him every indication I want him to fuck me.

It doesn’t take much, because he wants this as much as I do.

He rolls on top of me, settles between my legs, and I wantonly spread them farther apart. I raise my knees, welcoming him into my body.

Baden presses against me, his face hovering over mine. Once again, our eyes hold each other’s as he starts a slow slide into me.

We are gloriously connected, and I’ve never felt another person touch my soul this way. Baden’s mouth captures mine, and he kisses me sweetly while his hips thrust against me with exquisite deliberation, pulling out to the very brink before driving in until he bottoms out against me.

Over and over again.

He completely enslaves me with his kisses and expert lovemaking, and my entire body quickens with the need to release again. I wrap my legs around his hips, my arms around his neck, and I undulate against him. Our breathing is harsh, labored… matching. We can barely maintain a kiss as we both hover at that precipice that will drop us into blissful oblivion.

Baden’s forehead rests on mine and he murmurs, “So fucking close.”

I can’t voice the same, not because I don’t feel it, but because I feel it all too well. I’m there. I’m on the edge.

I make the leap.

I cry out as a second orgasm snags me hard and my back arches off the bed as my hips drive upward to pull him in deeper. Baden jerks, drives hard into me, and stiffens as he groans out a long, tortuously beautiful release.

We cling to each other, shuddering and panting and soaking each other in.

And then we drop back down to earth—well, the mattress—and I’m utterly spent. Baden somehow rolls us to the side, his length still in me, and pulls the covers to our shoulders. He gathers me in close, my chin on his shoulder, his arms holding me tight.

And I fall dead asleep in his embrace.

CHAPTER 22

Baden

I stare at the ceiling in the dim, predawn hours, my eyes accustomed to the shadows since I’ve been awake a while. Haven’t been able to fall into a good sleep because my mind is whirring.

But I haven’t moved nor have I wanted to. I’m content to lie here on my back, one hand tucked behind my head, the other wrapped around Sophie’s warm body, which is half lying on me. Her legs are entwined with mine, and I feel such peace that I wish time would slow down and the sun would stay away.

There are no words to describe how we made love. I can’t adequately explain the froth of feelings that were produced, nor can I make sense of what Sophie and I have become to each other.

An evil, violent act introduced us. Fate brought us back together again. Healing wounds bonded us, and sex sealed it all.

She’s simply mine, and I’m hers.

I don’t waste too much time marveling at what has occurred because I’ve never looked a gift horse in the mouth. I appreciate that maybe something divine or mystical brought us together, and I’ll never believe we weren’t fated.

If there were ever any second-guesses over whether I made the right decision to leave behind my potential for a comeback career and try my chances as a coach in Pittsburgh, they’ve been laid to rest.

I’m where I’m supposed to be.

In fact, I’m so sure of that fact, if a fairy godmother appeared right now and offered to go back in time and erase the attack altogether—meaning I wouldn’t have crossed paths with Sophie—I’d deny the generous offer.

I am absolutely right where I’m supposed to be.

Sophie stirs slightly and sighs.

A peaceful sigh, a far cry from the tortured scream that brought me out of a dead sleep around two a.m. I’d never heard anything like it, nor do I want to hear it again. I don’t even remember racing to Sophie’s room, but I was driven to get to her and tackle whatever was scaring her. It’s unbearable having her in pain or distress.

And to hear that her dreams have morphed and are manifesting as guilt for running away after I told her to just about destroys me. God, I hope she listened to me last night when I told her she has to let it go, because I was being honest. About the only thing that would kill what we have is if she can’t let it go. I can’t have her watching me with guilt. It will bring guilt down on me, and it would destroy all the goodness between us.