Page 56 of When I Had You

My lips are taken, his pressure possessing but still gentle. I lean into it, kissing him harder, wrapping my arms tighter around him, and rocking on his lap.

His hands are all over—my ass, my back, my shoulders, my ribs, the curve of my waist, and then his fingers are digging into my hair. Nothing stops us. No outside interference. No late hours. No paparazzi stalking us and no witnesses.

There’s no rush, but I still have the need to feel all of him inside me.

I pull back to look into his eyes. Our breathing is quick but shallow. His eyes are as wild as mine. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Marina.”

And here I am, wondering if he wants me as much as I do him, but he answers without me asking. His eyes hold something that latch onto mine. His hands grip my sides, showing no signs of letting go, his body reacting to mine on top of him. “I want you so badly.”

I’m flipped to my back and slid so smoothly up the couch until my head bumps into the cushioned arm. He settles between my legs, but his eyes remain firmly on mine. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.” He slides his hands over my shirt and squeezes my breasts. Dipping his head, he scratches my collarbone with the scruff of his chin as his lips press to my neck. His breath is hot, his tongue slippery under my jaw. He breathes, “Tell me how you want me, babe.”

Talking is not something I do during sex. And a questionnaire has never been a part of it. My mind goes blank. “I don’t know.”

Cash looks up. His hair is messier, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t know how you like it?”

I search for the right answer, the one that will get us back to kissing and grinding and feeling good again, but I come up empty-handed. “I . . . um.”

“Have you come before?” A thread of judgment weaves through his tone.

“Of course, I have,” I reply, my voice pitching. My defenses kick in, and I try to shove him off me, but he doesn’t budge. Since he’s built like a wall of bricks, my efforts are pointless. “I’m ready to go.”

My arms are pinned to the couch, and he pushes up. I can’t tell if he’s angry or if this is the first stage of annihilation. “You can go anytime you want, sweetheart, but give me the courtesy of the truth.”

Tipping my head from one side to the other, I stop and glare at him. “You say I can go but are still holding me hostage.”

His hands release me, and he’s on his feet, erection and all, which is super distracting because it’s quite the sight to behold, even trapped in jeans. “There’s the door.”

I get up and straighten my shirt by yanking on the hem. Somehow, a few buttons are askew, but it’s nothing I can’t fix in the elevator. I raise my chin and exhale a haughty breath. I’m mad, but I’m not sure why or even what went wrong. I mean, not everyone comes every time they have sex. I’ve read many articles that most women don’t do that often. I’m not unique or anything, but the way he judged me was unwarranted.

Throwing my arms out, I give up and let them fall to my sides again. “We’re just too much fire and too much ice to be together in any civil capacity.”

“Civil capacity as in sex?” He crosses his arms over his chest, his shoulders appearing broader in the stance.

“Civil capacity as in not making someone feel like crap for not having an orgasm during sex all the time.” I cross my arms over my chest, my feelings bruised and my ego not faring any better. “Or ever,” I whisper.

He sighs as if the weight of the world hangs on his shoulders. It might be dealing with my emotions at the moment. He lowers his arms and comes over to me. Taking my wrists, he unwinds my arms and then holds my hands. “I wasn’t mocking you. I’m trying to understand what you like and what makes you feel so good that you leave the world behind for a little while and enjoy the ride.”

His argument is valid, and since I overreacted, running hot-blooded in my thoughts as he had my body all twisted in desire, I close the distance between us, wrap my arms around his middle, and rest my cheek on his chest. The scent of his soap and cologne is euphoric, and the safety of his arms when they hold me the best feeling I’ve ever felt. When he places one singular sweet kiss on the top of my head, I confess my shame, hoping he doesn’t hold it against me. “I’ve only had an orgasm alone.”

Two of his fingers slip under my chin, lifting until our eyes meet again, and he says, “We’re about to change that.”

16

Cash

I slide my hands up her arms and over her shoulders until I cup Marina’s pretty face. As if the anticipation in her eyes didn’t tell a novel worth of information already, I still need to start with the basics. “Will you stay?”

“You couldn’t kick me out after the promise you just made.” I grin, but hers falls too fast for my liking. She fists my shirt and whispers, “I’m nervous.”

“You don’t need to be.” I keep my eyes on her lips, then dip my head and lick the corner of her mouth. “Not with me, babe. Not ever.” I suck in her breath as her body falters. I’m quick to catch her. It’s not the first time a woman has fainted in my presence, but she was a stranger. I have no intention of letting Marina pass out before making her come so hard that she’ll never forget it.

Her legs are steady, and her eyes open, meeting mine. The length of her hair falls over her shoulders as she looks up at me like I hung the moon in the sky just for her. I would. For her, I would do it just to see her smile. So I won’t let her down now.

I kiss her, knowing nothing could stop me from giving her everything she deserves. Our lips part before we get too heavy, and I brush the hair from her eyes.

She asks, “The bedroom?” This is one invitation I would never turn down.

As I take her hand and lead her down the hall, I’m at a loss for words. There’s no reason she should be here. No reason for her to waste her time on me. No reason that I’m being given the chance to be with such an incredible woman. Marina’s everything I don’t deserve based on my bad deeds in life. So I won’t take her for granted.

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