Page 65 of The Gamma's Second Chance

I grip the hem of his shirt and drag it up, revealing his chiseled abdomen. “I need you.”

“You have me.”

I shake my head, a gasp falling from my lips as he shudders beneath the teasing of my fingertips across his bare stomach. “I need all of you.”

He growls as I press the heel of my palm along the length of his cock, and I tremble at the sound and the way it calls to me and my lycan. “I’m yours, Cassandra,” he says, his throat working and his fingers tightening around my neck. “Take whatever it is you need from me.”

I lift his shirt off him, his hands leaving my body only so I can pull it over his head, and then they’re on me again. He tears the shirt I wear off me, then wraps me in his arms, his fingerssplaying on my back as he captures my mouth with his. I clutch his shoulders and hold myself close, taking my time to taste every honeyed kiss he gives me.

Everything is passionate but slow. There is nothing hurried. There is none of the frenzied, frantic lust that pushed us together in the beginning, but it isn’t any less intense. If anything, it’s more intense. More heated, more poignant, and more perfect.

Nolan lifts me and turns us so my back is on the bed. The cool, soft bedding welcomes my body as he hovers above me, fumbling with his belt and his pants as he loosens them, never once breaking our kiss. He kicks them to the floor, leaving him naked, but his hand hesitates on the waistband of my underwear. “Are you sure this is what you need?” he asks, pulling away to look directly into my eyes.

“I’m sure,” I say, nodding. “Connecting with you? Being with you? That is what I need. I need to feel your body moving with mine. I need to feel wanted and desired. I need tofeel.”

My desperate yearning for him makes little sense. But love rarely does. Our time together has been a tumultuous whirlwind, like the painful pasts that brought us together. It’s been a maze to navigate and an arduous campaign to break through the walls we both erected to protect ourselves. But we’re here now—here with all the broken yet resilient pieces of our slowly entwining souls.

I don’t need proper and tidy and tied with a perfect sparkling ribbon. That would be boring. I want something that defies logic and expectations. I want something messy and raw and real.

If anyone will understand the desire to just feel, it’s him. There is no logic, no rhyme or reason behind it. It may sound backwards to some. But that’s us, and that’s how we started. Physical before emotional. Needing to feel before sharing our feelings.

His eyes ignite with understanding, his nod validating the desperation growing within me. My fingertips trail across his cheek, down his nose, and over his lips before he slides down my body and removes my underwear. “Make me feel, Nolan.”

I tip my knees apart, baring myself to him, and he glides his hand up my leg. He cups my calf and kisses my inner thigh, right above my knee. I sigh and close my eyes, tilting my chin higher and relaxing into his caresses and the bed. I immerse myself in the experience of being with him, an experience that becomes more fulfilling every time.

Each touch of his lips on my leg brings him closer to my entrance and pulls me deeper into our encounter. It is beyond anything imaginable and anything I’ve ever known. The rough thrusts and bruising touches are our preference, but his gentle, sensual perusal of my body is exactly what my soul needs at this moment.

His hands circle my waist, and his lips kiss my hip bone, bypassing my pussy altogether. But instead of groaning out my frustration and impatience, I savor the slow pace. His warm, solid body covers mine, his weight braced on his forearm next to my head, creating a safety net around me. Our own private world where it’s just us two. He parts my lower lips with the tips of his fingers, watching my reaction with a softness in his eyes that turns me to putty. I sigh and spread my thighs more, giving him full access to my body.

He dips his finger in and out, deeper with each pass, his body leaning closer to mine with each insertion. He hovers his mouth over mine, his nose tracing my cheek. Each breath he takes is tremulous, hinting at the passion bubbling beneath the surface that matches mine. My neck arches as his thick cock replaces his fingers, pushing into me as slowly as he is able, so I feel every inch of him, until there is no space between our hips, and he’s as deep inside me as he can go.

We gasp in unison at the sensation of being joined. My fingers dance across his chest, memorizing the feel of his skin beneath my touch, the mountains and valleys of his muscles, and the rise and fall as he breathes through his pleasure. His arms circle me, and he rolls us to our sides, wrapping my leg over his hip with his hand holding the back of my thigh. Our lips meet, and we move as one, pulsing and writhing with a singular, shared goal: to find release together.

But our movements are still languid and relaxed. This isn’t fucking or even sex. This is making love. It’s the type of connection and understanding between two lovers I’ve only read about. A type of connection I thought was a fairy tale. But it’s real, and it’s what has flowered between us, what has blossomed with each interaction we’ve shared.

Nolan takes his time, exploring every inch of me with his hands or his lips, evoking soft sighs and murmurs from my lips. He doesn’t hold back—not in the way he did the first time we gave in to each other. He gives me what I need, the way I need it. And it’s just as intense and passionate and soul-shattering as that first time.

With each kiss, I open more of myself to him. With each kiss, he possesses more of my heart. I pour all of me into him, my hands holding his face to keep him close. My body moves in tandem with his, responding to his movements and his touches. He wraps me in warmth and devotion, and I let him lead me into euphoria.

A soft cry escapes me, and I tense in his arms, arching against him as his fingertips tease my lower lips. He holds me tighter and kisses down my jaw and my neck, murmuring “Cassandra” between each press of his lips on my skin. The pulsing of his hips quickens and deepens, but it’s still the same sensual rolling movements. My body quakes, and pure, undiluted pleasure floods me, floating from my soul and out through the tips of myfingers, and Nolan joins me, body tensing and neck straining as he groans through his release.

He kisses the edge of my jaw, then my cheek, and then my lips, his hand sliding up my body to tuck my hair behind my ear. I curl into his chest as he cuddles me to him, his nose burying into my hair and his hand cupping the back of my head. No words pass between us, but none are necessary.

As I lie there in the circle of his arms, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking, soaking in the security and comfort I feel when I’m with him, I realize something.

I realize I don’t want him. Or need him.

I love him. Every flaw, all the messy, raw, and real pieces of him, including the gruff personality and the prickly exterior.

I love every single detail about him.

Chapter 24

NOLAN

Cassandra lies on mybed, rolled onto her stomach with her face turned away from me, the blankets around her waist and her long, luscious hair fanning across her bare back. Her shoulders rise and fall softly with her slowing breaths, her body relaxed and sated for the moment. I lie on my side next to her,facing her, my chest pressed against her body. My fingers comb through the ends of her hair, playing with the gentle curls and teasing her soft skin with each pass of my hand.

My movements are slow and almost lazy, but my mind races, replaying Cassandra’s conversation with Ben. Her revelation makes so much of what she’s told me before today make sense, like finding the cipher to a secret code or realizing part of a message was written in invisible ink.

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