Part 2 (2/2)

I tighten my thighs around him and s.h.i.+ft my hips again, looking for friction. His hard length slides against me, and now it's his turn to moan. We've done this before-ground against each other in a fit of madness-and I want that release again.

He pulls away from my mouth again, but only to begin kissing my chin, my throat, my jaw.

”After this,” he says against my cheek, ”I'm going to buy the largest pack of condoms in the store and spend all night having you in every way I can imagine.”

I sigh in pleasure. It doesn't matter how many times he takes me. Just the promise of another night is enough to undo me. We haven't been on the road a week, and we've made love so many times that I've already lost count. I thought things were hot between us back at Huntington Manor, but since we've been free of that place, we can't seem keep our hands off of each other. I don't know what it is, exactly-the liberation of our decision, the slight sense of danger, or just the excitement and desperation of knowing that we're in this together-but I can't get enough of him, and he can't seem to get enough of me, either.

One of his hands slips down from my waist to dip between my legs from behind. I throw my head back as his fingers brush against my folds, then wiggle in his grasp as he begins to explore me. His mouth falls to my neck once more as I arch against him, and though I grind myself against his body, it's not enough. I need to be closer to him.

I s.h.i.+ft again and reach down between us to wrap my hand around his arousal. He makes a sound like a growl as I slide my fingers down his length, and the sound deepens when I s.h.i.+ft him so that the end of his c.o.c.k brushes more directly against the sensitive flesh between my legs.

”I just want to feel you,” I beg softly, cutting off his protests. ”Just let me feel you.” This is dangerous, I know. The last time we almost-but-didn't-quite have s.e.x, we still had our underwear on. Two layers of fabric, however thin, still offer some barrier, eliminate some of the temptation. When it's just us, we have to rely on our willpower.

But Ward doesn't move away, though I can feel the tension of restraint in his muscles as I grind myself against him again. I respect him for having that control. My whole body is fire and sensation, and I'm having trouble focusing on anything but the way he's touching me. My breath is shallow and fast, but my heart beats still faster. It's not fair. I shouldn't want him this much, I shouldn't need him this much.

I kiss him again. And again. I need somewhere for this energy to go. I have to express my desire for him somehow or I'll go mad.

”I need to feel you,” I say again. I'm not even sure what I mean anymore, but I want to be closer to him.

And Ward seems happy to oblige me. His fingers move away from the sensitive flesh between my legs so he can reach down and take control of his c.o.c.k. This time he guides it himself, sliding it back and forth along my folds. I whimper and press my forehead against his bare shoulder as the ache grows between my legs. He's only teasing us both, making us both desperately hungry for the thing we told ourselves we couldn't have, but I don't have the strength to ask him to have mercy on me. I want this. More than anything.

He slides the tip of himself from the front of me to the back, and then to the front again-brus.h.i.+ng against my c.l.i.t and then moving back toward my opening. Back and forth, letting the agony build in my belly. He's cruel, so deliciously cruel.

The next time he pauses at my entrance, I can't take it anymore. I bite down on his shoulder, trying not to scream in frustration. I feel the s.h.i.+ft in him immediately, feel his muscles tense even more-and then sense the exact moment when he lets it all go and gives up his restraint. Before I even realize what's happening, he's plunging inside of me.

I'm sure I cry out in joy, but I don't hear it. We're past the point of reveling in the pleasures of joining. Right now there's only raw, animal l.u.s.t, and Ward drives into me like something wild. He bucks his hips, thrusting into me again and again, and it's all I can do to hold on to him and ride the wave of feral hunger. He grips me roughly, pulling my hips down to meet his every thrust.

I cling to him as the sensations build inside me, as my muscles tense and tighten around him. I needed this, longed for this crazy, explosive reminder that I'm not alone. That we're here for each other. That there's something good left in me-something pa.s.sionate and desirable and irresistible. That there's someone who wants me in spite of the crazy things I've done and the horrible ways I've behaved.

As we move together, I kiss him everywhere I can reach, but I'm always drawn back to his mouth. I want to feel his ragged breath against my lips. I want to taste his tongue, let him invade me in every way possible. I'm lost when I'm in his arms, and at the same time I've never felt this close to anyone.

I don't last long. It's all so overwhelming, so wonderful, that it's only a few moments before my body can't take anymore. I hold him tightly, and the words bubble up in my throat with the bliss.

”I love you,” I breathe against his mouth. And then the ecstasy erupts through me.

I'm just dimly aware of his body tensing as my muscles contract around him, but that's the only warning I have that he's nearly there himself. He jerks my hips back and withdraws from me abruptly, and his grip tightens as he shudders in release. He stumbles a little, and my own legs seem suddenly useless, even with the buoyancy of the water. My thighs slide down until I'm no longer wrapped around him, but I lean against his body as I try to catch my breath. My head falls against his chest. His hard muscles are slick with perspiration, and the thump thump thump of his heart is a soothing beat after the delightful chaos he just put me through.

His arms are still around me. He rests his cheek against the side of my head, and the warmth of his breath against my damp skin sends goose b.u.mps across my scalp. I love these moments just after making love, when everything seems perfect and whole and I don't have the energy to do anything but bask in the afterglow.

His thumb moves back and forth across my back. I'm glad he seems happy. If he enjoyed that even half as much as I did, then he must be very, very satisfied right now.

That thought warms me for a while, which is why it takes me so long to remember what I said in that split second before climax took over my brain.

I love you. I told Ward I loved him.

Which is insane. I've known this guy for-what? A month? But I have to admit-that was one twisted, complicated, mind-blowing month. The first time I kissed him, I didn't even know his name. Now I know about his childhood, about his dreams of becoming an architect, about his secret connection to Carolson. I know that he fights when he doesn't know what else to do with his emotions. I know that there's a muscle in his jaw that twitches right before his restraint crumbles and he gives in to the intense pa.s.sion that always seems to be burning inside of him.

Is a month of madness enough to recognize love? Before Ward, I had Ian-Ian, who spent a year by my side, trying to help me through my grief over my father's death. Ian loved me, and it had almost broken my heart, not being able to say those words back to him. I'd thought I was too confused, too numb to love anyone.

But this...

I flatten my hands against Ward's back. He continues to stroke me, but he doesn't say a word. My gut twists.

He hasn't responded, I realize. He hasn't said it back.

I don't know a lot about how love works. My experience with men hasn't included a lot of long-term relations.h.i.+ps. And that thing with Ian... If I being honest, that doesn't really count as a relations.h.i.+p. That was just a year of me being a b.i.t.c.h and using him emotionally. But if that time with Ian taught me anything, it was that if one person says ”I love you,” and the other responds with silence, well, that's a problem.

Maybe he didn't hear you, I tell myself. After all, we were in the throes of the most intense s.e.x we've ever had. Maybe he didn't understand a word I said. Or maybe he just thinks I was caught up in the moment.

It's better this way, I think. After all, I'm supposed to be convincing him to go back to Carolson. If he thinks I love him, that will only convince him further that I need him.

I have to be stronger than that.

I lean back slightly so I can look up at his face. His eyes are half closed, and he looks perfectly content. The sun brings out all the redder, more coppery tones of his auburn hair, even though the strands are wet, and I reach up and touch it. The left side of his mouth tilts up in a lazy smile.

I love him. Oh, I love him. It's a reckless thing to feel, especially considering our brief and wild history, but I've never claimed to be responsible or practical. I love him. And it's so liberating to admit that, if only in my own heart. I can't lie to myself. But I can keep it from him, at least until we figure some other things out. The best way to act on that love is to make sure he doesn't feel obligated to stay with me. It's the unselfish thing to do.

”Are you hungry?” I ask him, wrapping my arms around him again and rubbing my nose against his chest. ”Because I'm suddenly starving.”

He laughs that amazing laugh of his and gives me a squeeze. ”Worked up quite the appet.i.te, huh?”

”You know it.”

He slides my jeans off of his shoulder. ”I guess you'll be needing these again, won't you?”

”That's probably a good idea.”

”Well, I think you're going to need to work for them.”

And before I have to chance to grab them, he takes off through the water. But he's forgotten to pull up his boxers in the meantime, and he only makes it about four steps before he falls forward. I leap on him from behind, reaching around him for my pants, and we wrestle with each other until we're breathless. Which doesn't take long, considering our recent exertions.

He keeps a hand on me as I sidle into my jeans under the water. It's probably to steady me, but there's a comfort, a protectiveness in that touch that makes those three words rise in my throat again.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I don't say them. Instead, I zip up my pants and then grab his hand, twining my fingers with his. He's here with me now, at least. He's mine in this moment. Right now, I can be selfish.

And I am.

CHAPTER THREE.

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