Page 57 of Suddenly Entwined

Her sweet moans are both a relief and a tease.

She takes all of ten seconds to recover before she’s tugging at my waistband. But I grasp her wandering fingers before she can get her hands on my dangerously sensitive cock.

“No, Caro.Thatwas enough.”

For now, at least. We both need a breather.

“We could make each other feel even better,” she suggests.

Fuck, I want to give her what she wants. To throw away the remaining caution and worry, but my girls rely on all that judgement. I kiss the corner of her mouth, then her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and forehead too. She leans in to each kiss. I know that if I press my lips against hers straight on I’ll lose my head. She sighs like she’s steeling herself for rejection. God, this is anything but. I’m not denying her, I’m denying myself. It’s because I want her so much that I have to leave.

Chapter nineteen

Carolina

When I agreed to an impromptu braiding tutorial this evening, I certainly didn’t anticipate shamelessly grinding on Berg’s lap until I got off. Not that I’m complaining. He blocks my hand from wiggling any further into his shorts, but not before I feel how bad he wants this too.

“No, Caro.Thatwas enough.”

“We could make each other feel even better,” I say, even though I already know the answer.

He shakes his head and I groan as he sets a firm limit, even though I know he’s right. Sighing into every kiss he presses against my sensitive skin, I relax into the solid man beneath me. I can’t help my wandering hands as I smooth them over his strong arms and chest, kneading him like I’m a freaking cat in heat. Mycheeks are pink and hot from his beard rasping against my skin. He avoids my mouth, and my lips ache with want.

“I have to go, Caro.”

I sigh, still leaning into his touch. “Is this where you say ‘this was a mistake’?”

He leans his head back, the recliner groaning beneath our weight.

“Mistake? No. Perhaps…unwise?”

“Irresponsible?” I suggest.

“What is with you and that word?”

I shrug, trying to ignore the fact that I’m still perched on his lap, wet and willing. And that he’s still impressively hard against my thigh and I really want a peek.

“Look at me, Berg. I’m living in your suite because my brother called in a favour. I had a crappy job at a bar and–”

“We aren’t doing this,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“What?”

“Not doing a pity party where we talk about all the things we suck at.”

I shrug, feeling called out. “It’s cathartic.”

“I don’t think it is. I think it’s highly probable that the more we say these things about ourselves, the more we believe them. The more comfortable we get in wearing those beliefs like a second skin.”

“Hmm.”

Berg is giving therapist vibes right now, but his advice doesn’t sound like he’s trying to mansplain negative self-talk to me. In fact, it sounds like he’s speaking from experience.

“Do you…have thoughts like that?”

“All the damn time.”

“Like what?” I whisper, tipping my head into one of his palms.

---