Nixon (Raleigh Raptors 1)

I slid in inch by inch, taking her slowly, and keeping my eyes locked on hers, watching for any sign of pain. She whimpered and rocked her hips for more, so I gave it to her in slow thrusts that took just a little more every time until I was seated to the hilt inside her.

“Fuck. You feel so damned good,” I growled, fighting the need to let go and come. Her pussy gripped me, squeezing me tight in a velvet fist, pushing me so close to the edge that I had to close my eyes and breathe.

“You feel even better,” she countered, arching against me.

I started moving, taking her in deep, slow thrusts that had her keening, crying out for more as she raised her knees and used her hips to take me just as hard.

We moved like we’d done this a thousand times, like we’d been made to fit together. All the poetic shit I usually despised raced through my head as I brought us to the edge. With a brush of my hand over her clit, I pushed her over, and as she spasmed around me, I let go. My orgasm barreled down my spine and rushed through me with a flash of light.

I literally saw stars.

My chest heaving, I gathered her in my arms and rolled to the side so I didn’t crush her, then held her as we both recovered, brushing kisses over her forehead and stroking my hand down the length of her body.

“Nixon?” She kissed my chin.

“Hmm?” I kissed her mouth.

“That was mind-blowing.” She grinned.

“My thoughts exactly.” I wasn’t sure I was even the same person anymore, that’s how damned good it was.

“So is this when we start all the fucking you bragged about downstairs?” She blinked up at me with a sparkle in her eyes.

I laughed, then nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Excellent.” She purred like a cat.

I got us cleaned up, then started all over again, losing myself in her body and marveling that I’d not only found a woman capable of keeping up with me, but actually challenging me, and I was more than up for it—for her.

Problem was, I wasn’t just hooked anymore…

I was addicted.

10

Liberty

Nixon’s delicious weight between my thighs.

The rock hardness of his body sliding into mine like we’d been made to fit together.

The way he took care to go slow and steady and drag out the pleasure until we were both a tangled mess of primal need.

I’d never come so many times in my life, let alone so hard—

“Liberty Jones?” the personal assistant for the Breaking Boundaries Raleigh office called from her desk toward the crowded waiting room. The sound jolted me out of the memory on repeat in my mind, and I tried not to leap from my chair.

“Present,” I said, slightly breathless as I made it to her desk. She flashed me a sad smile at my attempt to joke, and I swallowed hard.

“Doctor Bernard will see you now.” She motioned to the office behind her, and I sucked in a sharp breath before entering.

“Ah, Ms. Jones,” Dr. Bernard said as she greeted me. She stood from behind her desk to shake my hand before we both settled into our seats.

“Liberty,” I said. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Bernard.”

She waved me off, leaning back in her winged-back leather chair. “Katherine, please.”

I nodded, but had no intention of addressing her so informally.

Her blue eyes were kind, but I could see the strain in them—she was about to deliver bad news. My stomach dropped like I’d swallowed an anvil. “I didn’t get the internship,” I said, finding no need to beat around the bush.

Her eyebrows raised. “How did you know that?”

I shrugged. “I’m good at reading people,” I said, though that little talent didn’t extend to Nixon, but I was getting better at it. The memory of his hands on my skin sent a ripple of heat over the ice crystalizing my heart.

“It’s not that you aren’t qualified,” she hurried to say. “You are. More than, actually. We just don’t have an open internship in our Brazil office right now.”

Okay, that didn’t sting as much as I thought it would. But why call me in for a personal meeting when this could’ve been relayed in an email?

“What would you say your biggest aspirations are, Liberty?” Dr. Bernard asked as she fiddled with a ballpoint pen on her desk. “Why Breaking Boundaries?”

“Well, my mother worked as a missionary while she raised me, so I’ve always been inside the lifestyle. And as she grew older, she built her own non-profit from the ground up. While it would be an honor to work for her, I’d like to gain experience with another organization before deciding what I’d like to settle on career-wise.” I sighed as Dr. Bernard waited for me to continue.

“My dream?” I said. “I want to bring mental health care to isolated locations who need it most. The program with Breaking Boundaries I applied for would give me the best shot at achieving that dream while also gaining experience from the experts who have paved these roads before me.”