Blackbird (Redemption 1)

My shiver was instant and not unwelcomed.

Heat moved through me, slow and intoxicating as his mouth moved down my throat in a series of sensual kisses.

Stop this. Stop him, I screamed at myself, but was only able to bite down on my bottom lip to stop a whimper from escaping me.

After releasing my hand, he placed one last kiss at the base of my neck before sitting back up, his dark eyes a mixture of need and indecision—and the need was winning . . .

In both of us.

He traced my cheek lightly, grabbed the length of my hair, and twisted until his hand was fisted at the base of my neck. A surprised huff blew past my lips when he pulled, forcing my head back on the bed, exposing more of my neck to him.

His free hand trailed down my throat lightly, the tips of his fingers leaving a tingling trail in their wake, and an erratically pounding heart in my chest. Wherever his fingers touched was no longer a cool burn, but an open flame.

Each breath and each second brought him closer and closer to my chest, where my bare breasts were on display for him despite my need to cover them. But then his fingers brushed over one of my nipples, and instead of trying to disappear into the bed, I arched against his touch.

The touches continued—light and demanding—until it felt like I would lose my mind. I needed them to stop and I needed them to continue. I twisted and bowed off the bed, trying to get away and get closer all at once, and inhaled sharply when I brushed where he was straining against his jeans.

Stop this, Briar, why aren’t you stopping him?

My hands flew to his chest to push him away, but one gripped at the material of his shirt in an attempt to keep him close—both hands at war with each other, just as the rest of my body was.

A whimper sounded low in my throat when his fingers trailed over my breast again on their way down, down, down . . . and he responded by wrenching my head back.

I cried out in pain, but the cry ended with a soft moan when his fingers trailed over a part of me I thought only one man would ever see again.

“No,” I said breathlessly, but my whimpers and moans and the way I pulled him closer begged for so many things that I hadn’t voiced, and not one of them was for him to stop.

Because there had been pain, and I had wanted to get away from him. But heat was pooling low in my belly, and some traitorous part of me wanted this feeling to continue more than I wanted my next breath.

I couldn’t make sense of what I was feeling.

“More.”

It took too long to realize that word had left my lips. I shook my head, trying to force that small piece from my mind, and I tried to twist away from him as his fingers began teasing me, but his body between my legs didn’t allow me to get far. “Please . . . please stop. St—” Another moan tumbled from my mouth and was followed by the slightest, most invigorating tug on my hair.

Shame filled me and my head shook as much as his tight hold would allow. My mind and my body were completely at war with each other. In my mind I was screaming at him to stop touching me, but the throaty sounds coming from me matched the way I was trying to get closer to his hand . . . not my thoughts.

My core tightened and another plea for more caught in my throat.

How can I want this so much?

Guilt tore through my chest.

Why am I not pushing him away?

I clutched his shirt tighter in my hand when he slid a finger inside me.

God, yes . . .

Then Kyle’s face slipped through everything going on inside my mind. Guilt and shame overwhelmed me, threatening to choke me.

Kyle. Oh my God, what am I doing?

I was letting another man touch me. A man who I wanted to continue touching me just as badly as I wanted him to rot in hell.

It felt like I was going insane.

I wrenched my eyes open to find the devil’s face just above mine. In movements too fast for him to stop, I shoved him back with one hand and slapped his face as hard as I could with the other while I screamed, “I said stop!”