It wasn’t rushed now. Even as her muscles began to tighten, as she felt that delicious tension growing in her core, he didn’t speed up. He just kept a steady pace and watched her face like it was a revelation. With one hand still gripping her wrists, theother came up to brush a few stray hairs from her sweat-lined forehead, and she turned into it, kissing his palm before he thrust into her again.
God, this didn’t feel like a release anymore. It felt like they were building something, pouring foundation into something that could be substantial. Something thatshouldbe. Something real.
It was too much—too much emotion, too much feeling, too mucheverything—and she suddenly had to squeeze her eyes closed. Like if she could focus on his touch, the feel of him inside her, she could ignore everything else she saw in his gaze and pretend her heart wasn’t bursting open, that he wasn’t the one fusing it back together into something even stronger.
But then his rhythm slowed, and she felt his hand on her jaw, cradling it as his calloused thumb ran over her bottom lip.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare stop.”
“Elizabeth.”
It was a demand, and she opened her eyes, half expecting to see a challenge waiting in his gaze. But his expression was raw, stripped bare as he loomed over her, his body silhouetted by the gray light.
“Don’t hide from me,” he growled.
God, he saw right through her. And closing her eyes wasn’t going to protect her from this. He knew that, too. So she finally gave up trying.
“Then don’t stop,” she breathed.
Hunger flared in his eyes and he leaned down to envelop her mouth with his as he thrust into her again.
I think I’m falling for you.
She repeated it in her mind, over and over until his pace became all-consuming and her senses took over. The heat and the sweat from his body. The feel of the carpet rubbing against her wrists where he held them above her head. And the sounds. Hewas whispering, swearing, and there were words on her tongue, too—more… please… yes—but before she could utter any of them, she felt a blinding, voltaic energy on the periphery, tightening every muscle.
He looked down to where their bodies met, like he could actually see it there, building beneath her skin. Then he brought his hand to the apex of her thighs and pressed down, like he knew exactly what she needed.
He was right. The pressure sent her over the edge and she came, an explosion of electricity surging in her core that ignited every nerve ending. Did she just scream? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this, the heat in her veins, his grip on her wrists, and that look—God, that look—as he watched her fall apart.
Then he let go of her wrists to wrap his hands around her hips, holding her in place as she reached up into his hair, roughly grabbing at the strands. His thrusts became wild and jagged then, and it was only a few seconds before he came, too, throwing his head back, whispering curses into the air.
For a long time there was no sound except the thunder, the rain, and their heavy, desperate breaths. His body bowed over hers as he wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her close. She could feel his breath against her shoulder, the shell of his ear right there next to her lips.
I think I’m falling in love with you, she wanted to whisper.
But she didn’t.
CHAPTER 29
Will blinked open his eyes, the soft morning light peeking through the wood blinds and cascading into his bedroom where he slept. What the hell time was it anyway? He turned his head to the side and relief flooded his entire being. Elizabeth Bennet was there, sound asleep, with nothing on except his thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets.
The details of yesterday came floating back to him in waves. How he’d pulled her from the ocean, how her skin felt warm and cold at the same time against his, and how she sounded when she came.
They had stumbled upstairs afterward, ready to fall into bed, but instead they found their way into the newly installed shower in his room, letting the glass walls fog with steam as they fought for space under the hot spray. She had tried to bat him out of the way to wash the soap from her face, but he stopped her, grabbing those wrists again and pushing her against the tile wall. Her face was still covered in suds, so she couldn’t open her eyes, and he took advantage of it, watching her expression as his other hand ventured down between her legs, delving inside and setting a steady rhythm that sent her over the edge again.
If I had known sex made you tongue-tied, I would have tried this ages ago.
It’s not the sex. It’s you.
This wasn’t one-sided anymore. At the very least, she didn’t hate him.
The muted sun streamed in over her face, her hair a mess of vibrant crimson and gold curls falling around her, her small frame taking up half his bed. It hardly seemed real. He studied her perfectly upturned nose and high cheekbones, her lips almost as red as her hair. It was difficult to catch his breath; she was so damn beautiful.
Without waking her, he got up and padded quietly into the bathroom, turning on the shower again.
Shit, he thought as he turned his face up into the hot spray. He didn’t know how to do this. He had no clue. Everything in his life fit into a neat box, and a serious relationship was the opposite of that. Why would he willingly throw himself into something messy and complicated, something guaranteed to uproot his orderly life with a high net return of heartache?
But this thing with Elizabeth Bennet had him questioning everything he’d meticulously constructed. Could he even imagine waking up without her now?
