The Other Girl - Page 19

The intense burn in his eyes threatens to consume. He’s all dark energy and combustible matter. He lays claim to my mouth with a searing kiss, stealing all logic and reason.

Something that feels this right can’t be wrong.

My eyes close as I will the inner warning to quiet. Why I’m hesitant has nothing to do with moral or ethical dilemma, though it should. Every touch, kiss, smoldering look…reminds me of Jeremy, and how we moved just as fast. We made love on the beach the very first night we met, and it

was intense.

All steam and explosions and professions of love. The stuff romance novels are made of. I was young and naïve about what would happen the next day.

I shove the memory to a dark corner of my mind where it belongs. Carter is not Jeremy, and I am not that girl anymore. Lacing my arms around Carter’s neck, I draw him down on top of me.

I tilt my head back to give him better access as I revel in the feel of his firm body pressed to mine. The weight of him bearing down between my thighs is maddening, our clothes preventing us from getting close enough. A delicious ache deepens where his jeans rub abrasively along the seam of my panties.

This feels right. This is right.

I mentally repeat that mantra, willing my body to give in—to just let go.

“Christ, I have never wanted anyone so badly as I want you.” His hands are everywhere, his kisses fervent and demanding. “I wasn’t lying about the dream,” he says. “I almost crashed my bike. Images of you on that fucking desk…all I could think about.”

Everything I’ve ever wanted to hear; I don’t interrupt, I don’t want him to stop. My blazer is removed in the frenzy of movements. My hands go to the snap of his slacks, fumble the button open. He releases a guttural noise that sends me careening toward the edge.

Something wild takes hold, and suddenly every desire and yearning I’ve suppressed for so long comes surging forth. I maneuver us so that I roll on top of him. My hair falls forward to create a drape, isolating us together.

I kiss him unhurriedly, deliberately, savoring the feel of his soft lips, the way his tongue darts out to tangle with mine. So deprived and impatient; the desperate need for gratification only a man his age can demonstrate. It makes me feel powerful, in control. Knowing that, the longer I tease this moment out, the more desperate he’ll become.

I lift up, and he follows, never breaking the kiss. My hands seek the hem of his shirt, tug it up, my nails grazing his defined abdomen and eliciting a satisfying groan. I pull away long enough to tear the shirt over his head.

He palms the side of my face, his thumb resting along my jaw, as he gazes up at me. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

My heart aches; the pain too unbearable to breathe. I want this to be real—I need him to be real. For every other moment before this one to become a bad dream.

Worlds and memories are colliding…so it just happens. His name slips out. “Jeremy…”

Carter leans back on his elbows. “Who the fuck?”

“It’s no one…” I trail off, unsure of how to explain. “I didn’t mean—”

“He will be no one,” he says. He grasps me at the small of my back as he thrusts his hard length against the achy part of me. “I’m about to fuck this Jeremy right out of your system.”

And I want him to. Oh, God—I want him to make the terror of the past as if it never happened. Erase Jeremy and that beach from existence.

He takes over then. Clasping the back of my neck, he splays his fingers into my hair and grips, forcing my head back as he devours the juncture between my shoulder and neck.

I savor the arousing feel of him. All smooth skin and lean muscle. My fingers lightly trace his chest, abs, down to the V that dips beneath his jeans. The thick ridge of his cock grows harder beneath me, sending the throbbing ache between my thighs deeper. I undulate my hips, grinding against him, and that’s all it takes.

“Fucking hell…come here.” Carter pulls me to him, his mouth crashes to mine as his free hand goes to the buttons of my blouse. He’s not gentle as he yanks loose each one, working my shirt open until he has the access he craves.

He becomes fury as he shreds the rest of my clothing and then pins me to the earth. Pants are removed and then there’s nothing between us; we’re fiery skin to skin.

The moment he seats himself between my thighs and the tip of his cock touches me…I’m a livewire, the current flowing from him to me, all yearning to be filled. Ground the connection. He holds himself there as he takes hold of my hip, eyes searching mine for approval.

Fuck me, I mouth.

His eyes close in submission as he thrusts into me.

He fills me completely, and I take all of him. Again and again, he drives deeper, every thrust more intense than the last, his face a mask of anguish, as if the desire is too strong, too much, and I feel that yearning pull my whole body tight.

We are violent in our need. Violence is what Carter understands, how he responds to all difficult situations—why not sex? When emotions are heightened and our passion sears hotter than the flames of the fire, the only act to follow is one that tears apart, consumes, devours.

Tags: Trisha Wolfe Dark
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