Faking It (Losing It, #2)

She whimpered but did as I said. The next thrust made my vision go spotty, and though her body contorted underneath mine, and she tried to tug her hands free from my grasp, she kept her eyes open.

There was too much pleasure, too much want, too much beauty beneath me. There was too much everything. The world seemed to expand to accommodate the power of that moment. Something shifted between us—small and ineffable—but we ceased to be whatever we had been before and became something new.

I saw the same wonder in her eyes that I felt in my chest.

Then I saw the fear chasing on its heels.

I saw her start to close off, and knew I needed to do something. I took hold of her hips and flipped us over so that she was on top, so that she was in control.

Her eyes were closed, and when she opened them that flicker of fear was gone. She smiled and pressed her palms into my abdomen. She shifted her hips over mine, and breathed. “I had a dream about you like this once.”

Damn.

It was my turn to groan, and the thought of her dreaming about me was so sexy that I had to grasp her hips and still them until I got myself under control. She leaned over and kissed me. The press of her breasts against my bare chest didn’t do anything to help me, but it was too good to push her off. After a minute, I lifted my hands and let her move again. She sat up and raised her arms above her head to tangle in her hair.

The sight of her like that was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen, and I didn’t think I would forget it as long as I lived. It also made it hard to hold on. I slid my hand to where our bodies met to help her along, and she slammed her hips down hard on mine in response.

If I were an artist, I would paint her just like this. She reminded me of the spirits and nymphs that populated so many of Shakespeare’s plays. She was wild and free and inhumanly beautiful. The only other time I’d seen her this vibrant was when she was onstage.

Her legs squeezed around my hips, and her hands dropped back to my chest. Her fingernails scraped down my stomach, and I bucked up into her. She threw her head back, and I pressed my fingers harder against her. Then she moaned, and my world was awash in color and heat and . . . God, she was so tight.

Her eyes met mine, and they shone dark and glassy. I sat up and held her to my chest. Her body convulsed around mine, and I pressed my forehead against hers as I gave in to the pull.

I don’t know how long we stayed there, wrapped around each other, foreheads pressed together, gaze locked. It could have been minutes or years. All I knew was that I never wanted to move. Our bodies fit perfectly together, like a lock to a key. I kissed her, soft and slow. I didn’t want to think past the feel of her skin or the curve of her hips or the smell of her hair. But for now, I would settle for lying side by side with her in my arms.





28

Max

I was relaxed and numb and glorious.

Until I wasn’t.

Until the glow faded, and I was assaulted my all the thoughts that my mind had been too preoccupied to think before. His arms were tight around me, secure and comforting and caging all at once.

Sex had never been like that for me. It had always been about bodies and sensations and simplicity. Sex with Cade was confusing. It was adding one plus one and getting an answer other than two. It was more than it should have been, and it threw my world off balance.

Cade got up to go to the bathroom, and I slipped my panties back on, and then went to the living room to hunt for my shirt. Cade’s place was the opposite of mine. He had pictures of friends and family on walls and bookshelves. Those shelves actually had books on them, along with mementos and keepsakes that apparently meant enough to him to bring all the way to Pennsylvania with him. His place felt homey. It felt nice and comforting, just like him.

Unease flitted around my chest, but I pushed it down. I tiptoed back to Cade’s room, and my nerves started to rattle. I stared at the rumpled sheets on his bed and just couldn’t make myself get back inside it. Cade was wonderful. Mind-blowingly wonderful. Tonight had been one of the most intense moments of my life.

But that was the problem.

We’d known each other ten days. I looked at the clock, and it read 3:00 A.M. Make that eleven days, but still . . . eleven days. There at the end, he’d looked at me in a way that no other man ever had. I couldn’t even put into words what that look had done to me.

It wrecked me, completely.

It was so honest and raw that it made the rest of my life feel fake and insignificant in comparison. Everything was changing too fast. Even now, thinking about it, I felt like something in me was disintegrating faster than I could hold it together.

I jumped when Cade’s arms wrapped around my middle. His chest pressed into my back, and he placed a few kisses down the side of my neck. His touch was almost enough to deflate my worries, but they stayed there, lurking at the back of my throat, making it harder to breathe. Even so, my body was at ease with his. I leaned back into his arms.

Cora Carmack's books