The Heathen (Preacher Brothers 2)

For several seconds, we did nothing but lie there. Cullen wrapped his big, muscular body around mine, almost sheltering me, protecting me, even from himself. And when our breathing eventually mimicked a relaxed rhythm, I felt like I was… home.

Chapter Fifteen

Kimber

It was hours after we’d given each other our virginities, and although I could have stayed like this all night, I was so conflicted by what I wanted, needed, and desired from Cullen.

I guess I felt like things would be weird, awkward, this forced perception of reality where I couldn’t actually be with Cullen, that he couldn’t be mine and I couldn’t be his.

But there was nothing like that. Not as Cullen held me, as my back was to his chest, as the pads of his fingers skated along the bare flesh of my arm. All I felt was comfort, this feeling that I was exactly where I was supposed to be… that I was next to who I was supposed to be with.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice was deep, calm.

I might not have known him for very long, but in the short span of time we’d been in each other’s lives, all I’d heard was a gruff, serrated tone come from him. But now I could tell he was relaxed—maybe for the first time in his life?

“I’m just thinking about how crazy this all is.” Cullen continued to tickle my arm, his touch so gentle, almost as if it was a contradiction to the larger-than-life man he actually was. “And about how great this all feels.” I had been scared to say those words out loud, but if I didn’t feel like he was right here with me, in this moment, experiencing the same things I did, I wouldn’t have dared actually voicing them.

He didn’t tense, didn’t even move. He continued to stroke my arm, but he didn’t respond. I might have thought I’d overstepped my bounds, crossed a line, assumed something was there when it really wasn’t. But then he slid his hand over my hip and placed it flat on my belly, pulling me in closer to him.

“You’re thinking that?” he asked in his deep voice that made me close my eyes and sigh in contentment. I swore I heard pleasure laced in his words.

I didn’t verbally answer, just nodded, looking over my shoulder at him. His face was only an inch from mine, the dark scruff that covered his cheeks and chin making him seem so masculine.

He slid his hand back up and over my arm to cup the side of my face, his palm calloused, manly. God, what I wouldn’t give to have him touch every single part of me again.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked softly, almost afraid to hear what he had to say, if he’d say he felt the same thing or tell me this was just a one-off. God, I hoped I hadn’t read him wrong, hadn’t felt things come from him that weren’t actually there.

He didn’t answer for long moments, just searched my face with his gaze, this almost pained expression covering him. And then he leaned in and kissed me softly, and my breath caught as he stole that kiss. And as I gave it to him time and time again, I dreamed of so much more.

“So fucking crazy,” he said against my mouth, those words murmured. He kissed me over and over again, nothing sexual, just deep, loving kisses, his mouth against mine with all the emotion he felt. With all the emotion I felt.

And I took all of them, absorbed them, wanted more. So much more.

He broke the kiss and pulled back just an inch, staring deep into my eyes, making me get lost in his dark gaze.

“And for as fucking insane as this is, for how bad I am for you, for how you’re too good for me, Kimber, one thing for certain is that I can’t let you go.” He stroked his thumb along my cheekbone, and goose bumps popped out along my flesh. “Damn this all to hell, but I can’t fucking let you go, Kimber.”

He kissed me again, and I turned my body fully so our chests were pressed together, so my arm was wrapped around his wide shoulders. I held onto him like a lifeline, touching him, pulling him impossibly closer.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, so sweet and caring. You’re too good for me.” There was a shadow of emotion in his voice, hardened and pained, and I wondered if this was the first time he’d ever said those words out loud.

“We both deserve to be happy, Cullen. Can’t you see that?” I lifted my hand and cupped his scruff-covered cheek. “I’m not too good for you. We’re perfect for each other.” I wanted to tell him everything, my past, my childhood, why I was the way I was.