“Dallas,” she cries.
I thrust a finger into her hot core, loving the way she clenches on me. Her breasts thrust up as her back arches. She’s so fucking beautiful. But I’m far from done. I slide my finger out, then thrust with two, preparing her body.
Gemma shivers from head to toe, her core gripping my fingers tight as I fuck her with them.
She’s close. But I won’t take what I need until she comes for me. Lowering my head, I flick her clit with the end of my tongue, tasting her heat, then suck her nub until she cries out withpleasure. She coats my tongue and beard with her release, and it turns me on so much, I drive her to a second orgasm.
When I finally move over her, when our bodies align and there’s no more space left between us, I pause and look at her.
Really look. From the thick blonde hair I love, to her gray eyes and plump lips. Her satiny skin and round hips. To the softness and warmth she shows me every time she smiles. No matter what comes next, I will always remember this moment.
Then I make her mine in the only way that matters—I give her everything I am.
Lining up at her entrance, I push slowly into her body, allowing myself tofeelevery inch. Every tiny clench and sweet slide of heat.
She clings to me, her nails digging into my shoulders, whispering my name.
When I'm fully seated, I pause and drag a deep breath in. She feels so fucking good. It’s never felt this way before. Like coming home. My heart clenches tight.
Whatever this is between us, it’s real. And I want it.
I rock my hips and push back in. Slow at first, building the pleasure between us. Gazing into her eyes, I see the same tenderness I feel. The same need. My hips speed up, plunging into her tight sheath, feeling her muscles grip me.
Gemma wraps her arms around my neck, holding me tight. She’s close.
Thrusting my hand between our bodies, I rub my fingers through her wet folds, then stroke her until she’s trembling on the edge.
One light pinch and she cries out my name, coming hard.
My hips jerk and I slam into her.
Gemma cries out and comes again. "Yes," she says. "Don't hold anything back. I'm yours, Dallas."
That's all it takes. I erupt with a shout, emptying into her body, coming harder than I ever have.
Afterward, I pull her tight against my chest and wrap us in the sheets.
She traces her fingers over the puckered scar on my shoulder. If she knows it's a bullet wound, she doesn't say so.
I press my lips to her hair.
“You’re leaving soon,” she says quietly.
I don’t lie to her. Not about this.“Yes. To end it.”
“Will you come back?”
The truth lodges in my throat. I’ve walked into death before. Many times. I’ve never cared whether I walked back out.
Until now.
“Yes.”
"To me?"
"For you." Not as a friend, but to claim her as mine. Days ago, I was prepared to walk away from my entire life. Everything and everyone I knew.I won’t walk away from her.
Not now.
