Modern Romance November 2015 Books 1-4. Trish Morey

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      “I can’t,” she said, her words breathless.

      “Oh, but you can. Don’t you know? It’s one of the many beautiful, amazing things about being a woman. As many times as I care to pleasure you, you can find release.”

      She shook her head, closing her eyes tight. “I would never survive it.”

      “Of course you would. Because I would never let anything happen to you.”

      Her lashes fluttered, her eyes opening slowly. “Really?”

      His chest tightened, unbearably so, the ache rivaling that of the ache in his body. “Yes,” he said, his pledge. His vow. And with him, she would not be alone. He would do more than simply keep her alive. He would give her the life she craved.

      He swore that only to himself.

      “I believe you.” She looked at him with such trust, and something quite a lot like panic filled him. How long had it been since someone had trusted him? Kairos might love him, might not have disowned him, but he certainly didn’t trust him. Because Andres had not earned his trust. But Zara trusted him. With everything.

      He did not deserve it. But he refused to dwell on it. Not now. Not while he was dying to be inside her. Not while his blood was roaring for release.

      He tested her, finding her slick and ready. He entered her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, drawing it out to be cautious of her, of her inexperience and any potential soreness. And to torment himself. He deserved a bit of torment for all that he was getting in return.

      When he was sheathed to the hilt inside her body, she gasped, her eyes widening. He found he could not look at her face, for fear he would go over the edge before things even began. He didn’t want it to end like that. He wanted to give her more pleasure. Wanted to make sure that he was giving more than he took.

      He established a steady rhythm, driving them both toward release. His blood was roaring through his veins like a beast, intent on devouring him whole if it didn’t find escape. If it didn’t find a way to relieve the intense sensation that was building inside him, so impossibly large he could scarcely breathe around it. Zara arched against him, her breasts pressed into his chest, her hands sliding easily over his back thanks to the water from the tub. She flexed her hips in time with his, instinct more than making up for a lack of experience.

      She pushed her fingers through his hair, tugging hard as she claimed his mouth with her own, biting his lower lip before taking the kiss deeper. He moved his hand down her waist, beneath her rear, pulling her up hard against him, drawing her up so that she met each thrust. The tighter he held her, the more she fought to brand the encounter with her own mark. He rolled his hips, his grip on her tight, and she wrenched her mouth from his, angling her face, biting one of the cords of his neck. And he knew, she would have left a physical mark in addition to all the other invisible fingerprints she would leave behind.

      Her teeth scraped against his skin as she moved her hand down to his butt, holding him to her as she returned the motion with her hips. That, along with the low, husky growl that vibrated through her being, sent him crashing over the edge before he had a chance to stop himself. Pleasure burst through him like a volcano, the hot flow of his blood almost too much for him to bear. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could do nothing more than surrender to the overwhelming release.

      He reached between them, sliding his thumb over her clitoris. His last thought before there was nothing but the sensations writing through his body was that he needed her to feel this too. Needed her with him in every way. He felt her begin to tremble, and then she arched beneath him, her internal muscles squeezing his arousal tightly, bringing up his own release. Then there was nothing. He buried his head in her neck, kissing her, closing his eyes and letting the world fall away. Until he couldn’t remember his own name. Until he couldn’t remember himself. A place of bliss.

      All too soon, reality rushed back to him. But at least, when he returned to himself he was with Zara.

      “Oh,” she said, the word coming out on a long breath.

      “Are you disappointed?”

      “No. I just... I didn’t know. I didn’t know it could be quite like that.”

      “Neither did I.” And that was true. He had used sex for a great many things in the past. And always, he was in control. If he was seeking numbness, temporary companionship, that was what he would find. A mere distraction, and then he would be diverted for just a while. But he hadn’t claimed the control here. This had been a fight to the finish. And right now he could not confidently say he had come out the conqueror.

      At the moment, he felt conquered.

      “I will have your things moved back into my room.” He didn’t think the words through before they came out of his mouth, but he meant them. He would reclaim control of the situation. He would have his way. There was no reason for her to sleep in her own bed, not when they had discovered this connection between them.

      He hadn’t used a condom this time either.

      Rather than cursing himself, he felt a kind of grim determination and satisfaction. If she was with child, she wouldn’t be able to push back against him about the engagement. About the marriage. And while he had a feeling he had managed to talk some sense into her, insurance didn’t hurt.

      He ignored the biting guilt that came on the heels of that thought.

      “Now you’re having me move back in?” she asked.

      “That is what I said.”

      “But you threw me out!”

      “And now I am throwing you in. Things have changed.”

      “The sex, you mean.”

      “Between men and women there is very little else.”

      She frowned. “Is that true?

      “In my experience. Though what we have is very good sex. As I said, it is not always like that. It has never been like that for me.”

      “Yes,” she said, climbing up the bed, pulling the covers back and burrowing beneath them. “Because you have vast experience.” Her voice was muffled by the blankets.

      “What are you doing? Are you burrowing?”

      “I am not.” She shifted beneath the covers. “I’m cold.”

      “I think you’re hiding from me.” He pulled the covers back and she made a sharp, short sound of protest. He slipped beneath them, alongside her, and covered them both back up. “Do not hide from me.”

      He didn’t know why he cared. Didn’t know why it mattered. Only that he had felt connected to another person for the first time in longer than he could remember, and he didn’t want anything to disturb that. He didn’t want her hiding from him.

      “This is very new.”

      “I know. You wanted to experience things.”

      “Well.” She shifted, moving away from him slightly. “Now this, and you, are things that I have experienced.”

      He СКАЧАТЬ