Page 87 of Hidden But Not Safe

She’d also soaked his neck in her tears. As her hitching breaths began to quiet, her fingers dug into his back, clutching him tighter.

“I want to be closer,” Meg whispered against his neck.

Her words soothed him. She felt the same way he did. She wanted to crawl inside his body so they could stay together forever.

Only she was easing back in his arms. His skin felt cold and empty without her pressed against it.

She licked her lips, and he thought she wanted to kiss him. Instead, her hands found the hem of his black shirt she slept in and dragged it over her head.

Meg was naked. Her body lowered against his. It was even better than before. Her skin brushing over him made his own sensitivity drown him, especially the feel of her breasts. They were soft except where her hardened nipples dragged against him, sending a sudden bolt of lust down his body.

His dick was hard and cuddled between her thighs, only his shorts separating them.

Meg rocked against him, her warm heat making him even harder.

“Touch me,” she begged.

His hands slid down her back until they clutched her ass, his thumb swiping over her birthmark, loving the way her skin felt.

Her thighs parted, her heat enveloping his erection as much as it could with the material in the way.

His hips pushed his dick against her, meeting her next rock, and he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the sensation, which made a sound strangle in his throat.

Meg whimpered, cupping him more firmly between her legs. Her mouth found his ear, the only voice there. “Can you take them off? Would you be okay being naked with me?”

The waistband had ridden up, digging into his wound. His hands left her to drag it down. He kicked the shorts free, and then Meg was back in his arms, cuddling his erection between her soft thighs.

His hands moved back to her ass, hitching her against him as she rocked. His dick thrust between the gap in her legs. It felt so good. The way her thighs gripped him each time she moved was making dots dance in his vision.

“Please,” Meg moaned against his jaw as her hips tilted. “Please.”

The head of his dick pressed against wet heat.

Meg was trying to have sex with him. She wanted him inside her.

The realization sent fear through his body, fear that replaced the pleasure.

His erection flagged.

“Oh!” Meg tried to angle, tried to push herself against his dick, which grew even softer. “Oh, no.”

A chill ran through Naz’s body, and his hands fell away from her ass.

Meg wanted to fuck him. He’d known that, and a part of him had hoped it might work. Her heat against his limp penis brought reality into sharp focus. He was weak and pathetic and would never be able to give her what she needed.

Shame filled him. It was a different kind than usual and yet familiar. He’d been feeling it for days. He waited for the voices from his memories to laugh at him, but they were strangely silent.

Meg’s movements stopped. Her hands found his face, cupping it and dragging it down, forcing him to look at her.

Naz closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see her disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed across his lips.

He was the one who was sorry; sorry he was a pathetic, limp-dicked man who would never satisfy a woman like Meg.

“I’m sorry. I did this all wrong. Tried to trick you.”

The men had tricked him at times. Manipulated him. His body grew colder.

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