Page 115 of Resist

“Yes, but if you’re not willing to give it to me, I’d be more than happy to sit here and do it myself . . . but you’d be forced to watch.” My words are coy, my smile even more so, and in a flash his hands have cuffed mine on either side of my head, and he dips down to kiss me.

“As hot as that sounds, watching you get yourself off while thinking of me, we’re going to save that for another time . . . because right now I want you, Vaughn.” A kiss on my lips. “Right now, I need you.” He sits back on his haunches, his eyes locked on mine. He holds his dick in his hand and runs it up and down the length of me so that my sex parts and covers his tip as he teases me with it. “Right now, I’m going to have you.”

And with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he pushes painstakingly slowly into me. Our hisses fill the room. My eyes close momentarily as I’m washed with pleasure.

“Heaven,” he murmurs, prompting me to look back up and watch him. His eyes are watching his dick slide in and out of me. His shoulders are set, his biceps tense from where he holds my thighs, his lips red from mine.

This man wants me.

He could spew a million lies, but everything about his body says he wants me.

And it feels just like he murmured—heaven.

I angle my hips up some as he begins to move. In. Out. In. A grind of his hips as he slides his thumb over my clit before starting the whole delicious process all over again.

Where our first time together was him asking if I was okay through actions and me telling him yes with measured looks and nods, this time is a fire of fury and chaos and desire and passion, and I don’t think if either of us protested we’d be able to hear over the absolute desperation that owns every part of us.

We move in unison, like two lovers who’ve been together for years but with the violent urgency of a couple that’s still so new to each other.

Each thrust in a new sensation all its own. Each murmur an added aphrodisiac to the high that we’re chasing. Each slide of fingertips over sensitized flesh a seduction like nothing before.

I can feel my climax mounting. It’s slow and sweet but burns and aches, and I know my body well enough after so many years of taking care of myself that without doubt this orgasm is going to wreck me.

And it does. It hits me with the ferocity of a hurricane, whipping all of my senses in its fury. My body tenses and my breath holds as the white-hot heat of it slams into me. It races through every nerve, every sensation, every fiber of me before snapping back to the delta of my thighs, where I’m pulsing around him with such fervor that every time he starts to move again, the muscles grip tighter.

“Fucking hell, Vaughn,” he murmurs as his body rocks to try to abate his own need to slam into me and take everything he needs. He tries—he does—and hell if the sight of him giving me what I need isn’t the sexiest thing on the face of the earth, but when I lift my hips in a cue to tell him to chase his, he does.

His fingers grip into my hips as he sets a bruising pace of hard and fast until his body slams into me. His breath jagged, his body jerking as the ecstasy steals his senses and mutes his reason.

“Holy hell,” he murmurs as he collapses on top of me with his head resting on my lower belly, and the rest of his body falls between my thighs.

My hand goes to his head immediately, fingers intertwining in his hair absently as if this is something we do all the time.

It’s comforting.

It’s normal.

It’s exactly what we need right now as our heartbeats slow, our breaths even, and the magnitude of what we just shared hits us.

No contracts.

No ultimatums.

Just him and me.

Because we wanted to.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Vaughn

Darkness seeps through the half-closed blinds, but neither of us has an urge to move. There’s a comfortable silence between us. Two people content to be in each other’s space without needing to fill it with sound.

My mind wanders.

Did Samantha ever get a chance to have this feeling? Were she and Brian ever okay before the drugs became their mistress? Before Lucy arrived and made life more complicated for them? Or was my sister always burdened with the secrets of her past?

“Whatever you’re thinking about, you probably need to stop thinking about it,” he murmurs against my stomach.