The Drift (Preacher Brothers 3)

On the fourth thrust, he buried himself all the way, both of us grunting at the intensity. I swore I felt him swell even more. His huge body seemed to shake against mine, and the sound of his pleasure had my own rising higher.

“Fuck. Zoey,” he barked out my name, and then he was going over the edge right along with me. I stared wide-eyed at him as he came, his head thrown back, the muscles in his chest and neck standing out in stark relief.

And I swore to everything, I felt the hot jets of his cum fill me, coat every single inch of me, felt him get thicker in my pussy.

I was the reason he lost control, and it turned me on more.

When his orgasm started to wane, I felt his big body start to relax atop mine. His breathing evened out, and he opened his eyes to look at me.

He rested his chest to mine, his face buried in the crook of my neck. I felt his hot breaths along my flesh and wrapped my arms around him, holding him, keeping him close. He was heavy, his muscles crushing me, but I wouldn’t have wanted him any other way after what we’d just done. I wanted him just like this, to feel his weight on me, but he rolled off me far too soon. Wilder didn’t have to make me wonder what he planned on doing with me after this was all said and done, because he pulled me in close to his body, my back to his chest. He made me feel… at home.

I felt myself start to relax even further when Wilder started rubbing his fingers up and down my arm. For several seconds, we did nothing but lie there, his muscular body almost cocooning me, protecting me. I felt that from him, his need to make sure I was kept close and safe. Our breathing eventually evened out, an identical rhythm.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured against my hair. “With you by my side, pressed against me, sated because of me.”

I smiled at the sound of his voice, so sleepy and comfortable. God, that sounded good. So good.

I stared at the closed door, placed my hand over his, which rested on the bed right beside me, and closed my eyes. I wanted to be honest with him, to open up and just say everything that came to my mind, but the words lodged in my throat. But talking to someone would be so… nice. “I’m not used to this,” I finally whispered.

He pulled me in tighter to him. “Used to what, baby?”

“Used to feeling—” Like I belong somewhere. Like someone wants me. Like I don’t have to run. “—used to the feeling of being with you.” That’s not what I’d meant to say—not out loud, at least—revealing as much as I did in a few spoken words, but they were out in the open with no chance in censoring it now.

He stayed silent, but his hold on me never loosened.

“It can always be like this.”

I closed my eyes and felt my heart jerk in my chest.

I wish that were the case.

“My mom left when I was young, ran off with someone who gave her the feeling of love in the form of a syringe.” I swallowed those emotions, never having spoken this out loud. “I learned at a very young age I could only rely on myself to survive.” I felt his kiss at the top of my head.

“I know all about shitty parents,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a support system. I had my brothers, and they were the only ones who got me through those dark times.”

“I’m sorry for you too.”

We didn’t say anything else, but the silence was comforting. It had me relaxing even more against him. But the silence made me think of things I probably shouldn’t, that negative feeling trying to take over.

Could things really work out with us? Could we actually be together? I wanted to believe so, kept playing that positivity over and over in my head as Wilder pulled me in closer, had the blanket around us, and nuzzled the top of my head. I felt his body start to relax in no time at all, and then his breathing evened out as he drifted off.

And as much as I wanted to try, to believe that happily ever after’s and fairy tales happen, all I’d ever done in my life was run. I’d been escaping the possibility of happiness for so long that it was engrained in me that I could never have it for myself.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Zoey

Later that night, as I listened to the sound of Wilder’s strong, soothing breathing as he slept, I tried to let myself just embrace how lulling it was. I was on my side, one arm wrapped around his abdomen, my fingers sliding gently over his hardness. I’d been like this for hours, unable to sleep, the house so quiet, but my mind so loud.