Page 116 of Forget Me Not

It dawns on me, then, that I don’t want to stop.

His tongue devouring me, his hands gripping my hips tightly to hold me to his mouth—it all combines to bring the treacherous lust I felt for him back to the surface.

I can’t stop the desperate, small, uneven rolls of my hips to meet his mouth, any more than I can stop myself from ricocheting off the edge a second time.

When I come this time, Reid tongues me through it, murmuring curses against my flesh that I can’t hear through the ringing in my ears.

When he’s wrung my orgasm dry, he stands up, fully removing his jeans before settling back over me on the bed. I swear the muscles of his arms are bigger than my thigh when he places them on either side of my head, caging me in while he looks down at me with a fire in his gaze that burns me to a crisp.

He presses kisses to my face just like he did the first night we had sex, but instead of gentle and sweet, they’re harsh and rough, demanding my attention and pulling me back into him. Reaching between us, he takes his cock in his hands, a sight that makes my mind flare with all sorts of dirty ideas for later and slips back inside me in one fluid motion.

When he’s deep enough to border pain, he moves, pulling out of me before slamming back in enough to jostle the headboard against the wall.

“You want me, I’m there. Fuck, I’ll drop anything to come home and keep this perfect little cunt satisfied.”

Home. Something about that word leaving Reid’s lips makes my heart flutter dangerously in my chest.

“You make the decisions, Nova.” He enunciates each word with a punishing thrust of his hips that continuously beat the headboard against the wall.

I remind myself to check for marks later, because the way he’s fucking me, I’ll be surprised if it doesn’t knock a hole into the side of the house.

I cry out when he reaches up and lands a slap against my hardened nipple, one that has me soaring toward the heavens and arching my back off the bed with a sharp cry. Tears leak from my eyes and I have no idea why. Perhaps it’s the emotional release; the feeling of being accepted by someone who really owes me nothing. If anything, I owe him the world.

“See how pretty you cry for me, Nova?” Reid grunts, slamming into me. “Do you feel yourself breaking?”

Truthfully, I was broken a long time ago. Before I ever knew Reid existed. Part of me died that night in the Mississippi, right along with Jack. I’ve been struggling to get it back, ever since and somehow, being with Reid has made that possible. I don’t know if it’s the crude, unadulterated way he shows how much he wants me or if it’s the fact that when he goes, he’ll have changed me on a deeper level. Either way, I know I won’t ever meet another person quite like Reid Morrison.

“Christ,” he grits. “You’re such a fucking good girl.” Reaching back, he takes my leg locked around his hip and lifts it over his shoulder. It allows him to align his hips and slip further inside me until I feel like I’m going to be split in half. “I’m going to come, Nova. Come for me again.”

I shake my head, fighting off another orgasm that I know I won’t survive.

“Yes, baby.” He pounds into me, gripping my hips so tight in his hands, I’m sure I’ll have bruises from his fingers tomorrow. A bead of sweat slips down his abs and he’s so handsome, it’s hard not to do as he asks. Like a God coming to you in the middle of the night and stealing you away. “Come for me.”

This orgasm is different, whether it’s because the air between us has shifted or how many times he’s made me come tonight, I don’t know. The pleasure is so intense that I let out a shrill cry, my head thrashing back against the pillows and my body clamping down on his greedily.

“Fuck, Nova,” Reid growls. He comes with a roar, clutching me against his chest so tight, neither of us can move, save for small, jerky movements when he grinds into me, filling me with his come.

I blink up at the ceiling, my vision slowly returning to normal as the aftershocks of my orgasm send jolts of electricity through my body.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, laying his damp forehead on my chest. His breathing is ragged and tiny shivers ghost through him. I can feel his heart racing against me, matching the uneven rhythm of my own. When he raises his eyes to mine, he looks haunted, like that was just as intense for him as it was for me.

Reaching up, I gently brush the hair back from his face, my mind running rampant with bad ideas and whispers that I would rather not dwell on right now. Something in my heart aches. Aches to be with him like this all the time and even though I know it can’t happen, there’s still that girlish part of me that wishes it could be different.

But it’s not.

It’ll never be different and someday, I’ll have to say goodbye to him, even if it breaks me.

I’ve fucked up.

I can see by the look in Nova’s eyes, the stuttering of her breath that we’ve taken this too far and now we’re both thinking shit we shouldn’t.

I don’t get attached. I like being alone. I like going wherever I want—doing whatever I want.

So why can’t I get the image of doing this every night for the rest of my life out of my head?

I’m an even bigger idiot than Dad thought I was if I thought I could keep Nova at arm’s length. This obsession runs too deep and I’m hanging on by a thread.

She’s worked her way into me, body and soul, and now . . . I don’t know if I can come back from it.

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