Page 47 of Endless Love

I want him. Emotions aside, my anger with him aside, I can’t grasp onto the certainty that I had before that we shouldn’t enjoy each other’s bodies at least once more before we get to Vegas and split off forever. Ivan has made me feel things that I never thought I would, that no other man has ever accomplished. And right now, the craving feels so intense that I can’t remember why it’s a bad idea to do itjust one more time.

Is this what it feels like to be addicted to something?I wouldn’t know, but I can imagine that it must be. It feels like a hunger, and it feels like one that I can’t fight.

This must be what addiction feels like, what Ivan means when he says I became an obsession for him. Because right now, I can’t recall why this is a bad idea.

Before I can stop myself, I roll over to face him. Ivan is on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his arms crossed over his chest. I can see him breathing, see the tense set to his jaw, and a hot jolt of desire crackles through me at the thought that he’s fighting the same urges I am.

With more success, apparently.

“Ivan,” I whisper his name, but it sounds loud in the silence of the tent. He shifts, his jaw tightening further, and it’s not until I whisper it again that he turns to look at me.

There’s a warning in his eyes when he does. “Charlotte?—”

I shift closer, across the soft flannel sheet that he put on the mat, towards the hard warmth of his body as if drawn by amagnet. “I’m cold,” I say softly, and I think it’s the first timeI’veever lied tohim.

I’m not really cold. The rampant arousal running through me wouldn’tletme get cold, even if Ivan’s body heat hadn’t already radiated beneath the blankets enough to warm us both. But I want to be closer to him, and I want him to give in.

That muscle in the hollow of his cheek leaps. I see his throat move as he swallows, shifting slightly closer to me, his arms still wrapped over his chest. He doesn’t look at me, and I reach out, resting my hand against his chest as I move closer, my breasts brushing against his arm.

Ivan turns so quickly, I suck in a startled breath, his hand sliding into my hair. One hand braces against the mat as he rolls me onto my back, his knee pushing my legs apart as he leans over me.

He looks down at me, something fierce and hot in his eyes, and his mouth crushes against mine.

Yes. This is what I want.Not the complicated emotions or long conversations about what happened before.This. Ivan’s kiss drives every thought out of my head, every feeling out of my chest other than that tight, desperate need formore. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer, moaning into the kiss as I feel him press against me, hard and as eager as I am.

His teeth nip at my lower lip, sucking it into his mouth, the hand that was in my hair dropping to cup my breast through my t-shirt. He groans when he feels that I’m not wearing a bra, molding the soft flesh through the fabric, his hips grinding against me as if he can’t wait to get inside me.

I’m panting against his mouth, all thoughts of being embarrassed about any of it fleeing under the onslaught of his lips and hands, his body against mine. He feels so fucking good, hard and virile and masculine, and I tighten my legs around him,arching my hips into his as I rub myself along the clothed length of his cock.

“Fuck me,” I gasp against his lips, too desperate to feel ashamed any longer. This need has been steadily coiling inside of me since that afternoon at the hotel, when I went down on him in an effort to throw up a wall ofsex and nothing elsebetween us, and he forced me to confront how much I wanted him. That memory has been haunting me, the need to feel that kind of pleasure, that kind of release again, building until there’s no longer any reason for my begging other than sheer desperation. I’m not toying with him any longer, not trying to use his lust against him, not attempting to reduce us down to our basest, filthiest desire for one another.

I just need him inside of me.

“Ivan, please.” I run my hands under his shirt, over the ridges of his abs, nails scratching up his back as he groans against my lips, breathing raggedly. He feels so fucking hard, wedged between my thighs, and I want to wish away the layers of clothing between us. Even like this, I can feel the pressure of his thick length against my clit, rubbing the fabric of my panties against me in a way that could make me come if he just doesn’t stop. “Please. Fuck me.”

I buck against him again, digging my nails against his shoulders as I squirm in an effort to get more of that delicious friction, and Ivan lets out another helpless moan, bucking into me as his forehead presses against mine and his tongue slides into my mouth.

And then, just as his hand slides down my waist, fingers hovering at my waistband, just as I think he’s going to yank down my sweatpants and slide his fingers inside of me—or better yet, yank down his too and make it his cock instead—he pulls away, panting so hard that I can see his breath misting in the cold air.

“Tell me you believe me,” he growls. He looks down at me with that dark blue gaze, his eyes so intense that it makes me shudder. “Tell me it’s real, Charlotte. Tell me you believe that what I feel for you is real. Tell me you feel the same way.”

I stare up at him, trying to process what he’s saying through the fog of lust clouding my mind. I’m dripping wet, my panties clinging to me, soaked through. My entire body is throbbing with unfulfilled need, and I’m on the verge of sayinganythingif it would make him get me off. If he would give me his tongue, or his fingers, or—God,please—his cock. I can see it straining against the front of his pants, rock-hard, and I sit up halfway, reaching for the waist of them. My fingers graze against his skin, between his shirt and the pants, and Ivan jerks back as if I’ve burned him.

“I told you,” he breathes out raggedly. “The next time I fuck you, it will be real, Charlotte. It’ll be because you wantme. Just as I am. Because you believe that even though I lied, what I felt for you has always been the truth.”

I swallow hard. “And if I say yes?”

His expression darkens, and he surges forward, pinning me back against the mat again, his fingers running through my hair. “If you say yes,” he breathes, “I don’t know how I’d ever let you go again.”

His mouth presses against mine, and the kiss is different this time. It feels more like that kiss just after we ran from Bradley, the one that felt like he was saying he loved me without ever saying the words, a kiss so intense and tender all at once that it made me wonder if I’d gotten him all wrong. His mouth slides over mine, nipping, licking,savoringme, and I feel the hard length of his cock trapped against me, his body pinning mine down.

“Please,” I whimper against his mouth. “I need you in me, Ivan. Please.”

His hands slide down my arms, and I feel him heave another breath. “Say it,” he whispers against my lips, his eyes opening. “Say it.”

A beat passes. Another. I open my eyes, and look into his. And I can’t make the words slide past my lips.

I’m too afraid to say yes. I don’t know for sure what I believe.

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