Page 61 of Love Me Fearless

Hutch lifts my chin and plants a soft kiss on my lips, like he’s in no hurry at all. Of all the things I love about him, this ability to never be in a rush with me is at the top. With a sigh, I kiss him back, letting my desire unfurl inside me. I climb higher up his body, my knees at his sides. In one motion, he rises to sitting with his back against the headboard, and draws the covers around me. We kiss again, and a tremor rattles low in my belly. I rock against him, wanting more friction, more connection. Our kisses turn heated, his tongue so sensual and his mouth hungry, like this is just a warm-up for the many ways he’s going to make me lose my mind tonight.

He caresses up my stomach to my breasts, scissoring where I’m sensitive, cradling me with such tenderness as we kiss. With a groan, he lowers to stroke and tease me with his mouth, again with that slow, unhurried pace that seems to be my undoing. I rock against him, desperate to satisfy the ache coiling tighter inside me.

My body starts to buzz and everything beyond his touch falls away. The heat between us and the quickening of our breaths makes me feel like we’re in our own little world. A beautiful, sweet world where the obstacles keeping us apart can’t find us.

Hutch slides his briefs down and reaches for a condom. While he deals with the packaging, I stroke him, my fist brushing my skin in the process, spinning my desire even tighter. Then he cups my thighs and guides me to him. I give a little whimper because he’s suddenlyright thereand so full and ready for me that the anticipation is delicious. Like that moment the roller coaster crests before plunging over the drop.

“Nice and slow this time.” He draws me to him for a kiss as I lower down.

The pressure and stretch of him inside me is exquisite, and slow like this it’s close to torture. With a groan, he thrusts that final inch, satisfying a deep and desperate craving.

“You take my cock so good,” he says in that sexy purr. “Like you were fucking made for me, sweetheart.”

I close my eyes and kiss him because I can’t let these words get any further into my heart.

He rubs me gently up and down with his thumb in rhythm with our pace, making it nearly impossible to resist the urge to move faster, harder. I will myself to keep my wits about me because no man gets to break me so easily.

He teases my breasts with his skilled tongue and the edge of his teeth, drawing another whimper from my lips. His wet mouth is like silk where I’m practically on fire that I arch to him and rock my hips to get more of him everywhere.

“That’s it,” he praises, caressing my nipple with just the right amount of pressure.

Everything burns so hot inside me—my cravings and desires and the fragile emotions I’ve held in my heart for so long for this man—that the pleasure feels raw and powerful, like it could swallow me whole.

“Hutch!” I cry because I’m a little scared that it’s more than I know how to handle.

“I got you, Greely,” Hutch coos in my ear, his thumb fluttering exactly where I need it. “Let it all go.”

I suck in a breath as the knot loosens and the spinning top that is my heart flies free. I bury my face in the crook of his neck as my cries fill the room and the pleasure rocks through me, big and so incredibly sweet.

“Fuck,” Hutch says on a groan as I come down. He grips my waist, guiding me faster. “You feel incredible.”

I hold on, my lips pressed to the place behind his ear, savoring the hint of salt on his skin and the firm rhythm of his breaths as he comes, pulsing hard inside me.

Breathing fast, I go limp against him. He holds me gently, caressing my back in soft, little strokes. Then he cradles my face and kisses me. The press of his lips is tender and caring, and it’s such a sweet way to end this night that I smile.

Gently, he eases me up, then spins away for the bathroom, givingme a chance to admire his muscular back and tight butt. Back in high school, I used to sneak looks at him in his football uniform. Half the reason I volunteered to help the sports medicine team was to see him in action because there is nothing more perfect than Hutch’s ass in tight pants.

At the doorway of the bathroom, Hutch glances over his shoulder, like he knows what I’m up to, and grins.

I throw a pillow at him, but he ducks into the bathroom, laughing.

From outside in the driveway, two car doors slam. The realization of how underdressed I am for whoever is here hits me like a bucket of ice water.

I’m out of bed in an instant, gathering my clothes.

Hutch must hear it, too, because he hurries from the bathroom. “It’s too early to be Beth,” he says, jumping into his briefs and jeans.

“Could your mom have gotten discharged early?” I ask, pulling on my shirt. Where are my panties?

“Doubt it.” Hutch tugs on his shirt and tucks it in, then whips on his belt and fastens it. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I frown at his stern tone. “Of course I am. Home.”

The lilt of cheerful conversation and footsteps on the stoop draw Hutch’s attention, and with one last scowl in my direction, he lopes off for the front door.

It opens to the sound of Toby’s claws on the hardwood floor and a voice I recognize—Thea, Hutch’s middle sister.

“Hey!” Hutch says, his tone a mix of surprise and alarm.

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