Fuck, she feels good. My hips rock against the heat and wetness of her once, twice, before I manage to control myself. But it’s a close call as all I really want to do right now is slide inside her. She moans when I stop, her entire body shuddering as she turns her head and skims her lips along the line of my jaw.
“Don’t stop,” she whispers, her hands clenching tightly on mine. Then she’s moving, her legs sliding off mine and onto the bed, until she’s straddling me, her knees next to my hips and her pussy pressed even more tightly against my suddenly ra
ging cock. And fuck. Just fuck. I want to be inside her so badly that I break out in a sweat from head to toe. And can I just say, restraint and chivalry really fucking suck—especially when there’s a beautiful woman on top of me who’s giving every indication that she wants me inside her.
And not just any beautiful woman. Tori, with her quick brain and multicolored hair and delicate curves that seem to be made just for my hands. For a moment I think about untangling our fingers and sliding my hands up her stomach to cup her beautiful breasts. I want to feel her nipples against my palm and the soft resilience of her flesh beneath my fingers. Want to hear the catch in her breath and see the way those big, melted-chocolate eyes of hers go all blurry.
But this is Tori, I remind myself even as I rock my hips up to meet hers—once, twice.
Tori, who has been through hell and is just looking for comfort, no matter what this feels like.
Tori, who is my sister’s best friend and who, on a normal day, can’t stand that I even exist. No way would she be okay with the fact that only two very thin pieces of fabric—and my even thinner self-control—are all that is keeping me from sliding inside her. Taking advantage of her vulnerability and her need for human contact just because I can would make me no better than Parsons.
It’s that thought, more than any other, that finally gives me the strength to lift her off me. That gives me the strength to lay her down on the bed and slowly untangle our bodies. Once there’s some space between us, it will be much easier to think—and hopefully, much easier to break the sensual spell that seems to be holding us both in thrall.
It’s a good idea in theory, but I’m not counting on her looking up at me with eyes that are wide and desperate. I’m not counting on the high-pitched, breathless sounds of protest she makes—sounds that slam straight through my bloodstream and right into my cock. And I’m sure as hell not counting on the way her hands clutch at the bare skin of my shoulders and chest as she tries desperately to hold me in place.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. No good deed goes unpunished, right? Because right now, it sure as shit feels like I’m being punished, my cock so hard that it aches as it leaks against my stomach. And still I give it one more try. Still, I give her one more out.
“Tori, love, this isn’t what you need right now. This isn’t—” My voice breaks and I clear my throat, try to start again. But she beats me to it.
“Don’t you want me?” she asks, her eyes wide and guileless as she stares up at me. “Or are you too disgusted by that stupid video?” This time, it’s her voice that breaks. “Is that it? Am I damaged goods now that the whole world has seen me fuck another man?”
“No! Of course not. How could you even think that?”
“How could I not think that? I’m throwing myself at you and you can’t get out of bed fast enough.” Her lower lip trembles and finally she pulls away from me as she wraps her arms around herself.
It’s what I’ve been wanting all along, to put some space between us so that the haze of sleep and sex and need can dissipate a little. But looking at her now, like this, eyes downcast and entire body shaking, I know that I’ve made another miscalculation.
“How could you think I don’t want you?” It’s my turn to reach for her, my turn to pull her into the shelter of my body as I press hot kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. She’s been so open with me, so honest, that I can’t help but do the same. “I’m so hard I can barely function. All I can think about is sliding inside that sweet pussy of yours and riding you until you come half a dozen times or until you pass out from the pleasure, whichever comes first.”
Her eyes widen, her tongue darting out to lick suddenly dry lips as she swallows convulsively. For a second I think I’ve finally managed it, think I’ve finally scared her away. But she doesn’t move, doesn’t try to climb out of bed. Instead her hands slide up my back to my neck so that her fingers can tangle in my hair. And then she’s pulling me close, pulling my lips down to hers.
“So do it already,” she whispers right before she takes my mouth in a kiss that rocks my whole fucking world.
Chapter 13
Tori
I’m trembling by the time Miles finally gives in, my whole body shaking with a combination of need and fear that is as much arousing as it is daunting. When I woke up plastered against him, all I could think about is that I wanted him, really wanted him. Not just because he’s here and I desperately want something to get me out of my head as the nightmare of yesterday comes flooding back, but because I want him. I want Miles Girard.
More, I need him, every part of me craving every part of him.
That’s the frightening part of the equation, the part I’m not so sure about even as I open my mouth to let him in. I have sex for fun. I have sex to forget. I have sex to prove to myself that I can feel—and to prove to my father that I don’t give a shit what he thinks of me. None of them are the best reasons, but they’re honest. They’re real.
But this? Having sex with Miles because everything inside him calls to everything inside me? Having sex with him because I need to feel him against me, inside me? That’s a totally new experience for me and it makes me nervous even as it excites me.
His hands come up to cup my face, and the feel of his fingers brushing against my cheeks sends shivers across my skin and down my spine, making every hair on my body stand straight up. I gasp a little at the sensation, start to pull back a little before I go into sensory overload.
But Miles chooses that moment to deepen the kiss and I end up burrowing closer instead of pulling away. My fingers come up to his chest, curl against the hardness of his bare chest. He moans a little and I repeat the motion, gently scratching my fingers down his pecs and relishing the play of muscles beneath my hands.
Miles groans then, his hands sliding around my head to tangle in my hair. He yanks a little, his fingers tugging hard enough to make me gasp as a crazy sexy blend of pleasure and pain courses through me. He just laughs, and takes advantage of my open mouth to dart his tongue deep inside.
I’m not usually big on this kind of kissing—it’s too deep, too intimate, too raw—but with Miles I can’t get enough of it. I open wider, kissing him again and again and again as I savor the heat of him.
His body may be rock-hard against mine, his fingers digging urgently into my scalp. But his mouth is warm and tender and more gentle than I’ve ever experienced before. More gentle than I deserve, probably. I love it, just like I love everything about this kiss. The softness of his lips, the seductive slowness of his tongue as it slips against mine, the sweet, sweet taste of him—like crisp apples and soft summer rainstorms. Like desire and connection and everything else I’ve gone too long without.
I want more of it, more of him.