Page 58 of I Am Salvation

“I’m not asking you to. But know this.” She grabs me by my upper arms. “Whatever secrets you have, whatever demons you’re fighting, whatever reasons you think we can’t work—we’ll face them together.”

Those words…

God, she has no idea of my secrets. I’ve only begun to divulge them.

They eat at me, take over me. Sometimes possess me.

But in this moment, I’m going to possess her.

I’m going to fuck her. I’m going to fuck her hard because that’s the only way I know how to fuck.

I crash my mouth onto hers again, pouring all my pent-up frustration and desire into the kiss. She responds and slides her hands up my back, her nails biting into the skin through my shirt. I growl, the sound vibrating through our connected lips.

She pulls back and gasps for breath, her chest heaving beneath mine. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the bed in my room. I toss her down onto it, and she bounces slightly before settling against the sheets.

I kick off my boots and sit on the bed next to her. “Last chance to back out,” I say.

“I’ve been here before,” she says. “I know what going to bed with you is like.”

Her voice is steady, but the slight quiver in it gives away her anticipation. And even with the darkness that we’re stepping into, I can’t deny the thrill that courses through me at her words.

“I’m counting on it,” I whisper, before pressing my lips to hers once more.

This time the kiss isn’t gentle or probing—it’s demanding and raw. She tangles her fingers in my hair, tugging hard enough to make me gasp.

I explore her body with my hands as our tongues battle. Every gasp and moan she lets out reverberates through me, fueling my fire.

I push her shirt over her head. She fumbles with the buttons of my jeans. I help her, kicking them off. Desperation fuels our movements.

God, the hunger.

I’ve had her before, but I feel like I’m an untried adolescent getting into a girl’s pants for the first time.

I crave her.

Ache for her.

Having her only makes me want her more. Need her more.

I trace my fingers along the lace edge of her bra and brush my thumb against her nipple through the thin fabric. She arches beneath me, a soft sigh escaping her.

“I want to hear you, Diana,” I growl in her ear. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

Her cheeks flush, which only spurs me on.

I reach behind her and unclasp her bra, discarding it. I look at her. Take in the beauty of her breasts before taking one nipple between my lips while I tease the other with my fingers. She claws into my back as I torment her tits, and her moans intensify, her body writhing beneath mine in delicious agony.

She grinds against me. Every gasp she makes is like kindling to the flames, every sigh a whip to my control.

I trail kisses down her abdomen, her skin quivering underneath my touch. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and pull them over her hips.

“Dragon…” Her voice is hoarse, lusty.

I revel in it as I explore every inch of her. I commit each gasp and whimper, each twitch and sigh, to memory, as if I’m a man wandering the desert and dying of thirst and she’s my oasis.

We settle into a certain rhythm—a syncopation that comes from a mixture of familiarity and desire. We’ve done this before, but if possible, I want her more than I did that first time, that second time.

Will I ever get enough of Diana Steel?

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