Page 113 of Killer Kiss

I felt them. God, I fucking felt them so deep it had nearly destroyed me time and time again.

And yet, I was so screwed up in the head I’d never been able to voice it.

She made me want to. She made it possible.

She kissed my mouth again, slow and deep, stealing my thoughts, banishing the bad ones, at least for the time being. Her touch chased away the numbness. Every stroke of her fingers across my cheeks, every touch of her tongue on my lips, every part of her pressed against me.

The kiss deepened, her wrapping her arms around my neck, me pulling her in by the small of her back. We clutched at each other in the darkness, touching, feeling, clinging.

Without us saying a word, the bond between us cemented. It was there in the way our bodies moved together, in my heart beating in time with hers. It was in her grief meeting mine, combining but outside ourselves, in a place that didn’t feel so much like being dragged beneath water.

It was still there, aching, threatening, but for a second, a minute, it felt a little less.

A tiny bit more bearable.

Like this wouldn’t be the end.

Like it might just be a beginning.

“I love you too,” she whispered between kisses. “So much. I’m so sorry.”

I didn’t know what for, but it didn’t matter. Her ‘I love you’ was so sweet it was all I wanted to hear. I claimed her lips, tasting her mouth, grabbing her hips and hauling her in.

We both fell into it, letting the feeling wash away the darkness.

When she reached for the buttons on my shirt, undoing each one with nimble fingers and sliding the fabric off my shoulders, nothing felt more right than doing the same to her.

I found a tie on her top, tugging on the silky material which unraveled her shirt. My lips found her bare shoulder, kissing a path along her skin until I got to her bra strap.

She reached behind her back, unclasping it, and the lacy covering fell away, exposing her perfect tits, just waiting for my hands.

I stroked my thumbs over her nipples as I claimed her mouth again, joining us because I couldn’t get enough of how she tasted and how kissing her felt.

I’d spent most of my adult life fucking around, screwing people I didn’t care about, avoiding kissing because it felt too intimate when all I was getting paid for was sex.

But I couldn’t get enough of kissing Ophelia. Of the way her lips were so perfectly made for mine.

Of how my heart beat when she touched me.

Something inside me desperately wanted this, and not just for now.

For forever.

She rocked her hips, my dick hardening beneath her core. She threw her head back when I ducked mine to take her nipple in my mouth, sucking and rolling the tight bud with my tongue, loving the feel of her hands in my hair.

I reached between us, undoing her fly and then yanking her pants and underwear down from behind. She lifted, scrambling to help me get her naked, and in a tangle of arms and legs, we managed to get her pants off completely and mine down enough to free my erection.

That was as much warning as she gave me before sinking down onto my cock.

I hissed at the wet warmth of her, engulfing me bare. I leaned into her neck, holding her still, desperately wanting to move but knowing we shouldn’t. “No condom,” I murmured.

She shook her head. “Don’t stop me. Please. I’m on birth control.”

That was the least of my worries. “I never fuck without a condom. Ever.”

But I wanted to with her. She felt so good. I couldn’t stop. I rocked her over my hips, and we both groaned.

“Me neither,” she whispered, taking over the motion, impaling herself so deep on me my head spun.

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