Page 92 of Branded Betrayal

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Savannah

I let him in tonight, knowing he’d destroy me.

I told him to stay away. But deep down, I knew he wouldn’t. And right now, I need to feel his arms wrapped around me, to find comfort in his hunger and desire, to cling to the belief that I’m not a total and complete failure.

I don’t want to be alone tonight. Not after everything that happened today. My heart shattered when I walked away from Miss Bea for the last time. I’ve been wandering around here all day like a zombie, going through the motions of cleanup and care for the livestock, trying to figure out if I can rise above what’s gone so horribly wrong.

I still don’t have an answer for that.

So when I opened the door and saw Blaze standing there, the vulnerability in his expression, the desperation in his eyes, I realized how very similar we were in that moment, both of us struggling to hold ourselves together, both failing miserably.

Maybe we both need to be pieced back together. Maybe we need each other to do it.

We collapse against each other in a frenzy of hands tearing off clothes and hungry mouths devouring like we need the other to survive. Blaze guides me into the kitchen, his jeans still half on, never taking his mouth off me. My back slams into the counter. He lifts me onto the edge and pulls off my panties.

I rake my fingers down the front of his chest as he dips his head low, biting the soft flesh at the base of my neck. His beard scrapes against my prickled skin. I moan, my eyes floating closed, head falling backward as his lips scorch a path back to my mouth.

His tongue delves into my mouth and tangles with mine, coiling heat flowing into every cell, igniting latent sparks of lust that I never could fight against. I hug him tight, clinging to him like the lifeline I never wanted to take. I can’t deny my need for this man anymore. It’s overpowering and all consuming, and six years of pain did nothing to rid me of it.

I crave him . . . all of him. And I’m a total glutton for punishment because of him.

He shoves his jeans to his ankles and closes in on me. The smooth head of his cock slides against my slit. My eyes slowly open, the world around me fading to white noise as I gaze up at him through lowered lids. With one arm roped around my waist and his other hand cupping my face, he stares at me, his caramel eyes molten and glowing.

“Savvie . . .” he whispers before capturing my lips once more. He thrusts into me, swallowing my gasp. My body tingles at his delicious intrusion.

God, why does he have to feel so good? Why does my body have to betray me every time he’s near?

He moves slowly, agonizingly, dragging his cock against my clit with each push and pull. My pussy wraps around him like a glove, slick, wet, and aching for the release that only he can give me. And with him buried so far inside of me, I’m not sure where he ends and I begin.

Right now, I don’t know that there’s a distinction. All I know is being with him like this is right and perfect, in spite of all the hurt feelings and problems that come with it. My body just isn’t complete without him . . . inside me, beside me.

And judging by the intensity in his heavy gaze, I know he feels the same way.

It’s wrong. So wrong.

But I don’t care. I accepted the consequences when I let him through that door a few minutes ago.

Sex and sin, darkness and temptation.

He’s everything, and my battle against him has been long lost.

His fingertips press into my spine, digging into the small of my back. My hips buck against him, meeting him thrust for thrust until sparks pop between my ears and my insides quiver. He finds my spot . . . always . . . and relentlessly drives deeper. The pressure builds in my core, the rush of sensations short-circuiting my brain, consuming every cell. White-hot flames of something so primal rage through me like an inferno of lust. His scent clings to me, clouding my head, infusing me with every breath I take.

A scream pierces the silence. My scream. And I spiral into a kind of blissful euphoria that I’ve fantasized about every day we’ve been apart.

He pulls me flush against his chest, filling me as his orgasm erupts. We hold each other tight like we can’t bear the thought of our reality tearing us apart.

Tears sting my eyes. I bury my head in his chest, our bodies entwined, locked together without any plans to break apart.

Except that’s not our reality.

Our reality can only be goodbye.

I finally bring myself to pull away, fixing my pajama top while he tugs on his jeans and zips himself up.

Swallowing the sob building in my throat, I hop off the counter and grab my pajama pants and robe so I can finish getting dressed.