Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

He searches my eyes.

More, I say with mine.

And that’s what he gives me.

He thrusts, his body working above me in these delicious, masculine dips. Again and again and again. Filling me. Stretching me out. It hurts, but I drink it in. I try to be aware of everything. The woodsy-smoky scent of his skin. The feeling of sharp-edged satisfaction between my legs.

The way my heart seems to have dissolved into my skin. My entire being throbs in time to its beat.

Eli watches me the whole time. Brow furrowed with concentration. Concern, too. He takes note of my every movement. When I bite my lip after he swivels his hips—the angle made him hit my clit—he does it again, aiming for the same spot. When he thrusts into me especially deep and my body goes still, he reaches up and cups my breasts, one at a time, toying with the nipples and sending a new rush of liquid heat to my pussy so he glides in and out a little more smoothly.

It’s not even attention. It’s adoration.

I love how loved it makes me feel. Like I’m complete. Confident in my body’s ability to meet his challenge.

Like I’m worthy of experiencing such urgent, overwhelming sensuality.

I have to close my eyes.

He captures my mouth with his. His strokes speed up to a punishing rhythm, our bodies slamming together. He’s losing himself in me.

I feel something inside me tear. Come apart.

I hook my feet at the small of his back. Urge him closer.

“So good,” he growls, his breath hot on my lips. “See how good it feels when you let me in?”

Tears press like hot thumbs against the backs of my eyelids.

I nod. It does feel good.

He swivels his hips against me one last time. Slams into me, hard.

Eli sputters, then goes still, his enormous body heavy on mine. His cock pulses inside me as he comes. I feel his abs working against my belly. He’s struggling to catch his breath.

I open my eyes to see him looking at me. His are molten. Soft.

My heart hiccups.

Looking away, I press a kiss to his neck. But then he’s using his nose to urge me back to center.

This guy’s relentless.

He leans down and kisses my mouth. A slow, hot kiss that has me arching underneath him. I can’t get enough of this man’s kisses. He’s unapologetically sensual and thorough in everything he does.

Pulling back, he looks me in the eye. Understanding passes between us. That was good. Better than it was supposed to be for a first time.

Better than it’s ever been for me.

I feel like I’ve been branded. I am different now. Changed in some irreversible way.

Can I ever settle for safe after experiencing how good wild feels?

I draw a trembling breath.

“It’s okay, baby,” Eli whispers, kissing me again. “You’re gonna be okay.”

I cling to him.

“I don’t know,” I whisper back.

He looks at me. “I do.”

“Please stay,” I say, drawing him closer with my legs. “Just for a minute.”

Eli melts into my body, bracketing my head with his elbows. “Like I could ever leave you right now. Olivia, you’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

I can’t get a hold of my heartbeat. My face is on fire, and so is my pussy. I feel like I just lost my virginity all over again. Only this time I’m hurt because the sex was so good.

So, so good.

Eli holds me. Surrounds me. I listen as his breath evens out. Deep inhales. Deep exhales. Like he did in class that day at the yoga studio, he’s trying to calm me down. I mirror his movements, breathing in, breathing out.

It helps.

Eventually I do calm down.

“I’m gonna go get cleaned up real quick,” he whispers, brushing his lips against my forehead. “Okay?”

I nod.

We both wince when Eli pulls out of me. Lifting himself onto one elbow, he reaches between us to grab the condom. His hair falls into my eyes when he looks down.

He goes still. A muscle connecting his shoulder and collarbone pops against the tattoo of the bird there. He rolls off of me.

“Are you on your period?” he asks.

“What?” I ask, stiffening. “No. Why?”

“You’re fucking bleeding, that’s why.” He looks up at me, nostrils flaring with anger. Shit. “Jesus Christ, Olivia, why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

He holds up the condom, streaked with blood.

My face goes up in flames again.

Oh my God, I actually tore. That wasn’t just me imagining my heart being rent in two.

I made Eli hurt me.

With him looking at me like this—accusingly, angrily—I feel so vulnerable. So embarrassed.

What is wrong with me, wanting to be fucked like that?

Wanting to get so carried away I end up bleeding?

“I’m sorry,” I say, closing my legs. “Did I get it on the bed?”

He looks at me. After half a heartbeat, he tsks, spearing a hand through his hair. His expression softens. Propping himself on his elbow, he bends his neck and kisses my mouth. My temple.