Built (Saints of Denver, #1)

I was already as bare as I could be for this woman. There wasn’t anything else I could offer her or create for her, so I stepped out of her grasp, which made her whimper a little and my dick really pissed off at me, and put my hands on her shoulders so I could turn her around so that she was facing away from me. I wasn’t sure I could get through this alive with those tumultuous eyes pleading up at me to make it all better. I had done all I could. Now it was all on her.

I popped open the fastener on her pants and skimmed the charcoal-gray fabric down her long legs. Just like I suspected when I bet her in the mall about her underwear, they were a deep turquoise in color and very much in my way. I got her out of those as well, still without turning her around to face me, and slid my hand around the back of her neck. Her hair was still all twisted and tied up on the top of her head, so the skin was exposed and made her seem slightly more vulnerable than she really was.

I kissed her naked shoulder. I licked the vein that was pulsing out my name as it throbbed on the side of her neck. I ran my nose along the sweet curve of her jawline and stepped even closer so I could whisper in her ear, “When this is over, and I’m on my way out the door, I’m going to tell you that I love you.”

She went stiff where my chest pressed into her back and tried to turn around to look at me. I wouldn’t let her. I curled a hand up under her arm and circled her rib cage so that I could fill my palm with her breast. The delicate pink tip immediately puckered and dug into my skin. I used my hips to point her toward the edge of the bed since my legs were still trapped half in and half out of my pants. I had no intention of getting any more undressed. I loved her, but I couldn’t make love to her right now. I was too pissed. Pissed at her. Pissed at myself for following her inside when I knew it was going to end in sorrow. And just generally pissed off at the entire situation. We deserved to be happy. We deserved to make this work. It infuriated me that I couldn’t just force things to be the way I wanted. I was used to my persistence and stubbornness getting me what I wanted.

She obeyed my silent command to get on the bed in front of me on her knees. The position had that delectable ass up in the air and her already slick and glossy entrance lined up perfectly with where my cock was pointed. She crossed her arms and rested her forehead on the bed, unable, I think, to look at me after what I told her. I did love her. Whoever she was and whoever she decided to be, but I couldn’t be in love with her until she had the room inside of her to love me back.

I walked my fingers up and down her spine and palmed the curve of her hip. I wanted to slam into her. I wanted to pull her hair and use my teeth on all of that delicate skin. I wanted to scrape my face across every pale inch of skin and leave marks on it with my beard. I wanted to use my tongue to torment her, to bring her to the brink of pleasure and then take it away like she had done with all the love I had for her. I wanted to use everything that normally brought her pleasure to cause her pain. I was hurting and I knew she was, too. The difference was she had the power to make it all stop. All that pain and all that hurt was in her hands, she just had to put it down and grab on to the other stuff I was trying to hand her, things like love and forever.

I dug the fingers of one hand into her hip and let the others trace those little indents at the base of her spine that I was infatuated with. I skated my touch along the plush curve of her ass and didn’t play around when I reached her already hot and begging center. I dove right in, swirled several fingers around, and told her to hold still when she jerked a little at the sudden invasion of her body.

It wasn’t very nice. It totally wasn’t smooth or romantic in any way, but I was feeling pretty split open and nasty. A good-bye like this wasn’t supposed to be easy on either one of us, I supposed.

She was so warm and soft under my touch. So much the opposite of everything that was locked up tight when she looked at me. She was supple and sweet as she moved in time with my stroking fingers. She moved to lift her head up and I knew she was going to look at me over her shoulder and I wouldn’t be able to deny the connection, the pull to try and save both of us from drowning as the current inside her pulled us farther and farther apart. I let go of her hip and leaned forward to bury my hand in her hair. I pulled with little finesse, sending the tie and a million bobby pins scattering across the bed and the floor. The blond tresses fell in endless, kinky waves across her shoulders and into my waiting hand. I grasped a handful and used it to keep her where I wanted her, which was as far away from me as possible, even though my fingers were inside of her and my dick was happily rubbing along the crevice her perfectly formed backside offered up. I felt her mutter a sound of distress as my belt buckle hit the back of her legs, but I still didn’t stop what I was doing to her. We could both be distressed as far as I was concerned.