Page 48 of Verses Of Us

Ciarán

Needreplacedcommonsense.When his mouth connected with hers, instantly blinding him to the reasons he shouldn’t be kissing her, she unwound in his arms, letting him carry her. Only half-aware of where he was walking, it wasn’t until his legs struck the side of the sofa that he situated himself in the tiny room. Like an object of great worth, he lowered her gently.

So fragile beneath him, the heat from her body and the pressure from her thick thighs told him she was anything but. He explored her body, his lips wandering over her chest and her supple breasts he couldn’t wait to fill his mouth with, to her toned stomach that led to curvy hips and to his ultimate destination—the place he was desperate to lose himself within, if she’d let him.

Alexis Stanek wasn’t a groupie. She wasn’t some fan enamoured with him today, to be forgotten tomorrow. She was the one person he’d wanted to be honest with. The one he’d wanted to be real for. Around her, he’d felt the closest to his real self, and she’d kept nothing from him. She’d read him like a book and brought him into her heart with pride, not with conceit.

And he’d thrown it all away because he’d been too much of a coward to let her down. He’d broken her heart, and in doing so, had broken his own.

The blame reached into him once again. Had the attack tonight been some kind of karma? Life reminding him of what he’d done to so many women and what he owed in return.

Instead of figuring it out, he focused on her skin, pressing his lips to the warmth just above the waistband of her pants and tugging them down. Smooth like satin, her skin gave under his kisses. He dared to taste her and swore he heard her say his name, but the sound of his thrumming heart and racing blood drowned it out.

The tip of his tongue peeked out, brushing against her, and she moaned, running her fingers through his hair. Even if it was at the top of his fantasies, he knew this wasn’t the place to see her naked for the first time. To keep himself from ripping off all her clothes, he tightened his grip on her hips.

When she pulled away, he stopped, ashamed for pushing her too fast. For losing control.

He didn’t want to force her, but he was also terrified of having her slip through his hands. This opportunity meant a lot to him, and he knew his anxiety would lead to a frenzy. He wouldn’t dare fuck it up. He only wanted to lose himself.

But he wasn’t sure he could explain his needs. It was sick and selfish to expect someone to share themselves in such an intimate way for his benefit. Well, not only his benefit. He was certain he would make her come, because his only goal was pleasing her; was giving her his all.

“Lex, I need this.” Even to him, his voice sounded pathetic. He hated admitting it, but it was true. He’d never had to defend himself or try to convince anyone, and for a split second, he grew bitter. Why was he putting in the effort when he could find someone more than willing to be used by him? He could degrade them. He could fuck any part of them and not give a shit when he was done. And the best part was that they’d be so happy about it, too. They’d run off and tell their friends.

But he didn’t want that. He was sick of that. He wantedher.

Why didn’t she want him back?

“Last time…” she whispered; her words were still heavy with the hurt he’d caused.

Though his kiss felt insufficient, he did it just the same, wishing that one kiss could rip it all away—the mistakes, the pain, every single stupid thing he’d done.

“This won’t be like last time.”

She laughed. Of course, she didn’t believe him. Why would she? How could he make her see? He kept trying to convince her, using words that didn’t fit, that weren’t enough, wishing she’d give in.

“I know I’m asking a lot.” And he was. He was asking for the world. He dropped his mouth to her skin again, hoping she’d let him do this, aware he was being a selfish prick for asking. He hovered above her middle, her warm sweetness calling to him like a siren, and brought his gaze up over her stomach. She was breathing so hard. He prepared himself for rejection.

But to his surprise, she nodded, her fingers running along his scalp, pushing his head down. This was up to her. She had the control and held it over him, and that knowledge brought him dangerously close to coming.

His tongue wandered over the soft skin of her thighs, the heat between her legs pressing against his cheek. All that stood in his way were her light pink panties—delicate and wet. He moved them aside, tracing the curve of her smooth mound with his fingers. She shuttered at his touch. She was so ready for him. Her hips lifted up to press against his hand, instantly making him rock hard. His cock throbbed with the need for release as he pressed himself against the sofa. But it would have to wait. After all, he’d waited for this. And being with Alexis was better than any short-term fix.

Tenderly, he pushed a finger into her. A whimpering gasp left her mouth. She arched her back while he worked her clit with his thumb, pushing a second finger inside. She was so warm and wet, her pretty pink slit ready for the taking.

With his mind set on one goal, a steady calm spread over him. He fucked her with his hand and mouth better than he thought he could. When she tightened around his fingers, he slowed down, teasing more pleasure from her. She writhed in protest, moaning, squirming, and wiggling.

Alexis was breathing so hard, her whimpers growing so intense. He had to make it end soon, but greedily, he wanted to keep going. Lex coming was the finest distraction, the best fix. No buzz of whiskey could calm him down and erase all thoughts like this. When he covered her clit with his mouth and moaned, she shattered against his palm. Like honey, he lapped her up, a surge of ecstasy spreading through him like wildfire and before long, the warmth of his own orgasm spread through his pants.

Once her breathing steadied, he ran his hand over his mouth and down his jaw and smiled up at her, watching a soft blush consume her chest and cheeks. He kissed her and her smile made him hard once more. But he was satisfied. For now. And as he held her and they laughed about nothing, he knew he’d never been happier. Whether it was happiness in its purest form or simply endorphins, he didn’t know, but the addict in him had awoken, and he worried Alexis was a kick he’d never tire of.

WHAT, NO BOXTY?

Alexis

“Meatballs?”Alexisleanedagainstthe counter, her back to the sink. Ciarán moved around her tiny kitchen as if it were his own. The sight of the famous crooner cooking at her underwhelming old stove entertained her as much as him doing it wearing her bright pink apron.

“Swedish meatballs.” He glanced over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. When you told me you were making your grandmother’s speciality, I assumed you’d make something Irish. Like, I don’t know, stew or even… boxty.”

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