Behind the Curtain - Page 66

Her mouth fell open, and he could tell he’d surprised her by his intensity.

“Does that mean you’re regretting it? Last night?” he asked, finding the idea reprehensible . . . just wrong on so many levels.

She shook her head rapidly, her long hair whisking across his hand at her back, some of it spilling onto his crotch. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. Of course I don’t regret it. How could I ever regret something so amazing?”

“You sounded like you regretted it just a minute ago,” he said slowly. “When you were talking about your grandmother.”

“It was hard, finding out about Mamma Sophia the way I did,” she said quietly. “I know I sound confused. Upset. Mostly because I am. But I’d never change last night, Asher. Not even if I had the power to go back and do things differently. I’d never change us.”

Her hand moved again on his abdomen, gliding lower. He gritted his teeth and caught it at the wrist.

“Don’t,” he told her in a strained voice. He felt beads of sweat pop out on his forehead. “You have no idea what I want to do to you right now. It’s not . . . appropriate, I know, given what’s happened to your grandmother and everything you’re feeling. But I can’t seem to stop it.” When he noticed her slightly incredulous glance, he closed his eyes wearily. There was no point in trying to hide it from her. His shame was as flagrant as his arousal. He nodded down toward his crotch. When she didn’t speak, he pried open his eyelids.

She was staring directly at where he burned. His erection tented his shorts, his need for her a huge, inescapable red flag.

“I’m sorry,” he said, miserable at the idea of her being exposed to his crudeness while she was suffering. If he couldn’t comfort her, then he should leave. She shouldn’t be subjected to this. He started to stand, but she halted him in an instant by placing her hand between his legs. She cupped the head of his cock through his shorts and met his stare. Color spread on her cheeks, but he knew by the fierce glint in her clear green eyes she wasn’t embarrassed.

She’d just caught fire.

“You think it’s wrong? That you want to make love to me? That I want to make love to you?” she asked.

“I want to comfort you,” he grated out, because her hand was moving on his cock, and God, it felt good. He started to sweat in earnest. His head fell back and he stared up at the sky through crossed eyes. “I’ve never felt this way about someone, so I don’t know how to do it right . . . how to be there for you.”

“I think you know how to do it more than right,” he heard her say through the roar in his ears.

“Jesus, Laila,” he hissed, because she was unfastening his shorts with fleet fingers. The feeling of her knuckles brushing against his balls made him tense hard. He caught both of her wrists at once and jerked her against him, her fists pressing against his chest and her mouth just inches away from his. His head dipped. He caught her scent and snarled slightly. All he could think about was penetrating her parted lips with his tongue.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you wanting to make love to me right now. I want it too,” she said shakily. “I’ve thought about it all morning. At first, I thought it was . . . indecent or something, to keep imagining it, to keep remembering last night. I couldn’t stop thinking about being with you again, even while I was at the hospital. It felt selfish. Dirty.” She twisted her forearms gently but firmly. Slowly, he released her, compelled by something he read in her eyes. She cupped his face in her hands and moved her mouth to within inches of his. “But I was wrong, Asher. It would never be selfish or wrong. Not with you.”

Her mouth brushed against his. His body leapt in response. Holding his stare, she dropped her hand again between his thighs and caressed him through his clothing. He winced at the sharpness of the pleasure.

“I know you want to comfort me. This will. It’s all okay, Asher. Because it’s us.”

She stood and faced him. He watched, utterly captivated, as she began to undress in front of him.

• • •

She wanted to cry, seeing him sitting there, so tense. So torn. His handsome face was flushed and rigid. She sensed his torment and his need doing battle, swaying on some imagined balance beam inside him.

She whisked her panties—the last of her clothing—down her thighs and stepped out of them. When she stood before him, naked, she wasn’t exactly sure what to do next.

Or what he’d do. She knew he was holding himself on a fraying leash. She wasn’t trying to test him. It was just that she needed him so badly in that moment. She never felt so exposed in her life . . . so vulnerable as she did, standing there in front of him.

But then he stood, and without saying anything, began to undress. A few seconds later, they faced each other on the beach, naked. He’d taken a condom from his wallet and now held it in his right hand. Her gaze trailed down over him. Her lungs locked. He was so beautiful to her.

“My mother has always said I was selfish,” he said, and she knew he’d noticed her staring at his heavy erection.

Her throat grew tight and achy at what she saw in his eyes: sharp desire and a kind of tired acceptance. The latter killed her a little. She stepped forward and took the condom from him. She ripped open the package, holding his stare.

“She’s wrong. What you’re doing is the exact opposite of selfish,” she insisted, stepping toward him.

They both rolled on the condom together.

A moment late

r, she came down over him. He sat on the big rock, their clothes beneath him. She clutched his hard shoulder muscles. He opened his large hands beneath her bottom, taking much of her weight. She felt his muscles flex tight as he lowered her slowly onto his cock. Her tissues still stung a little from last night. But the overall feeling that pulsed in her brain was pure relief at the sensation of him filling her.

He was so tense, she sensed a slight shaking in his powerful body.

Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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