Page 36 of Not a Perfect Save

“Or?” I wait, not sure what she’s going to say.Please don’t tell me to stop. My dick won’t be able to handle it.

Ella bites her lip and as she studies me. “I’m clean. And on the pill.” I freeze in shocked awe at her words, trying to process them, when she adds, “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn to tell you I’m clean and on the pill?” I grin, catching on.

“Idiot.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, as if she doesn’t know why she’d want sex with me.

I get such perverse pleasure in bothering her, but now’s not the time. “Ella, I’m clean. Last check up was a couple of months ago.” I gauge her expression carefully. “You trust me?” My voice is solemn now. It’s an honor. Ella Marie Dixon doesn’t trust easily.

“I do. I know you’ll protect me.”

Damn right, I will.

Chapter Twenty-Two

ELLA

Connor sinksinto me inch by inch and I gasp. He’s bigger than I remembered and I instinctively tighten around his hardness. He groans and I feel him pulse within my core. The expression on his face is harsh, as if it’s taking everything he has not to lose it and pound into me. God, it’s delicious. I cling to him, feeling everything. On me, in me, around me. I can’t help but clench when he withdraws, reluctant to release him for even a moment. I whimper in relief as he pushes his dick back home. He does it again. And again. Deep, deliberate thrusts, designed to make me crazy. My moan is loud and long when I come.

He kisses my neck, tasting my thundering heart through my skin as my breath slows. I turn my mouth to his and kiss him deep. He’s still inside me and when I contract around him. When he grunts, I do it again.

He flips us around, so that I’m on top. This new position pushes him further still. And even though I just came, nerve endings come back to life.

Connor rocks into me slow, watching my every expression. He rubs my sensitive nipples with his thumbs, and I arch my back. He lifts his head and takes one of the peaks into his mouth and sucks. I bear down on him and a keening sound escapes me.

Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I look down at him again. Blue eyes blaze with desire as he takes me in. I run my fingertips along his skin, and it hits me. I’m seeing him. Touching him. Really touching him. Connor Hall isn’t just an idea anymore. He is living, breathing flesh.

His eyes go dark. He’s seeing me, too. Every bit as clearly. I have to shut my eyes and draw in a harsh breath.

I roll my hips against him, squeezing tight.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck me. Just like that.”

And then there’s no more thinking. I writhe helplessly against him. I’m dying. It’s not enough. I want more. I moan his name and that’s all the invitation he needs—he grips my hips with renewed purpose, his fingers digging into my flesh. He moves me up and down on him, his pelvic bone hitting my center just there. And then I shatter, coming apart yet again.

That’s Connor’s cue, he bucks up against me, his thrusts erratic now. He goes deeper still, his skin glistening with sweat. His pace is hard and desperate and then he lets go. I feel him pulse inside me as he comes.

I’m lying there,in my post-orgasm stupor when Connor exits the bathroom. A towel is slung over his broad shoulders, and another is knotted around his hips. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth as I take him in. I can’t get over his abs. I’ve seen them, of course, multiple times now. But there’s something different seeing things from a little further away. Kind of like looking at a painting: you don’t always absorb its full effect except from a distance. Solid. Muscly. Mine.

Oh, no. Not going there. He’s my aberration. My post-traumatic stress gift to myself. Just another few days is all I can take.

He settles back into bed and faces me, his head propped on a hand.

“Ogling me again, Miss Dixon?” Blue eyes twinkle. How do eyesactuallytwinkle? That just seems like an ophthalmological irregularity.

“You know it, Mr. Hall.” I give him a nonchalant look. His grin only gets wider.

I reach a finger out and trace it down his sternum. His gaze goes dark, hungry. I ready myself for round two.

“Will you come to my game on Thursday?”

I blink.

And that, ladies and gents, is how they get you.

They show up naked, and your brain just melts into mush. I don’t even know why army types bother with camouflage. If they all looked like Connor, and the opponents were heterosexual women, it would be all over.

“This is the big game?” I ask, my mind racing to make sense of his request.

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