Savage Burn (Savage Trilogy 2)

His fingers begin to tap my sex, my muscles clench, seeking his fingers that are not there. He rolls me then, and we’re both on our sides, him at my back, his cock pressed thickly between my thighs in the slick heat he’s created. His lips find my neck and then my ear. “Now, baby. Ready?”

“Yes,” I whisper and I’ve barely spoken the word before his hand comes down on my backside. I arch into the sting, and he rolls me again, onto my stomach, him over me. His fingers slide under me to my sex, while that other palm finds my backside again. But this time when the sting comes, his fingers slide inside me, and all around my clit and sex. His palm comes again and this time, when I arch, my sex clenches around his fingers. I gasp with the sudden, shockingly quick orgasm, the world spinning around me. My body quakes and trembles, riding a pleasure high that steals my breath, all sense of reality fading.

The next thing I remember is us on our sides again, Rick spooning me, his hand on my breast. His cock presses inside me, stretching me. And then we’re lost, lost in this place that is all-consuming, raw and real, in that way that only two people completely lost in one another can be raw and real. Right now, the past is present in all the right ways. The ways that pull us closer. We sway, we grind, press into each other. Fast. Slow. Fast. Slow again. A wicked need erupts between us. The world fades into this man, into his touch, his lips, his hands. His body. He thrusts hard, and I’m over the edge, in that sweet blissful place only he can bring with this kind of intensity. My sex tenses and then spasms hard and fast around him. A low guttural sound escapes his lips, and then he’s shuddering around me. Time sways and collapses with the stillness of our bodies and for long moments, neither of us move or speak.

It’s as if we’re holding onto a fragile moment that we fear is about to shatter into a million pieces, and us with it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Candace

Rick is the one who breaks that fragile silence, nuzzling my neck and murmuring, “God, woman, I missed being like this with you.”

Emotion swells in my chest, and I whisper, “Me, too,” because I did. So very much. My world was never right without this man.

“Good,” he says, his tone roughened up, low and vibrating. “Then you won’t be eager to get rid of me.” He kisses my neck, a tender, quick kiss that shifts the mood, light piercing the shadows of our past. “Don’t move or I’ll have to spank you again,” he teases. “That’s an order.” He pulls out of me, the sensation more than physical. It’s a divide, and divides have not been good to us. I’m still reeling from that sensation when he’s off the bed, walking away.

I lay there and watch him and his perfect ass disappear into the bathroom, his words replaying in my head: Then you won’t be eager to get rid of me. What could be taken as a joke is so much more. He really believes I’ll be the one to walk away from us, instead of him. We need to talk, really talk and then start anew. We can’t keep rehashing everything over and over, and find a better future. I’ve barely had time to think about how to start that conversation, and already Rick is returning, closing the unbearable space between us, and pressing a towel between my legs. I try to sit up, but that never happens. Rick rolls me onto my back and settles half on top of me and half off, staring down at me.

“Was that just sex?” he challenges.

“Was it? You tell me.”

“No. That was not just sex because you’re wrong,” he declares. “I didn’t have to come back. Walker is resourceful. There were ways to handle this without me showing up.”

“Why now, then?”

“Wrong question. Ask another.”

I blink. “I don’t know the right question,” I say.

He shifts and I shift with him. We end up on our sides again, but this time, we’re facing each other. I reach up and trace his goatee. “What’s the right question, Rick?”

His watch buzzes with a phone call and he curses. “Damn it, baby, you know—”

“That you have to get that,” I say. “Yes, and your phone is probably in your pants in the garage or kitchen. I can’t remember where they were left.”

“I remember. Everything.” And it’s clear he’s not just talking about where we undressed. He gives my cheek a tender stroke. “I’ll be fast. Climb under the covers, and I’ll meet you there and let you lick me anywhere you like.