Page 25 of Forbidden Passions

“You can,” he said. “And you will.”

And then he was on his knees.

Water poured over us, his hands gripping my thighs as he pulled one over his shoulder and buried his mouth between my legs.

I cried out.

Everything inside me clenched. My body was sore, sensitive—but his mouth moved like a man making a vow. Every stroke of his tongue was a torment I didn’t want to escape. It was mercy. And penance. And pure possession

“Hold on to me,” he ordered.

I did. My fingers tangled in his hair as he devoured me, not stopping until my head fell back and I shattered again, water and heat and sensation crashing down over me all at once.

When it was over, I couldn’t stop shaking.

He stood and caught me before I could slide down the wall. He turned off the water and grabbed a towel to wrap me in. I couldn’t speak, but he didn’t ask me to. He was silent again.

Back in bed, I curled into him, still damp, the towel forgotten. Gabriel’s body was warm and solid behind me, one arm draped over my waist, his breathing steady.

I traced the line of a scar along his forearm. He didn’t stop me. So I turned over. My fingers moved higher. To his shoulder. His chest. So many marks. Some faded. Some not. Scattered scars that hinted at stories he hadn’t told me. One in particular, a jagged line across his ribs, caught my attention.

“Afghanistan,” he said without me asking. “Shrapnel.”

“And this one?” I brushed a small, twisted scar under his ribs.

He was silent for a moment. “Bar fight.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You? Really?”

He gave a rough huff of a laugh. “I wasn’t always this locked down.”

“Tell me,” I urged, genuinely curious about the younger version of this man.

He was quiet for so long I thought he might refuse. “I was angry. Lost. Looking for trouble to distract myself from things I couldn’t change.” His hand continued its gentle exploration of my back. “The military gave me purpose, structure. Something to channel all that energy into.”

“And now?” I asked softly.

His eyes met mine, something unreadable in their depths. “Now I have different distractions. I need you again, baby.”

I should have said no. I was still tender, wrung out. But I could feel the way he trembled. Like he needed this. Needed to feel me around him again. Not for the sex—for something else.

“I need you, too,” I whispered.

He moved, positioning himself between my thighs. He took the blunt head of his cock and poised it at my entrance. “Tell me if I need to stop.”

“I will.” He pushed inside me, slow and easy, watching me. I knew what he was looking for. Any signs of discomfort. And while I was sore, I wanted this as much as he did.

Why? Because I knew, just like him, our time was limited.

The first time had been rough and almost untamed, this time was so tender it almost made me cry. He rocked into me as if he was memorizing the way it felt to be inside me. Every thrust steady. Controlled. Setting a pace I knew, for all my innocence, was laying havoc with his control. But still, he maintained it until I was clutching at his shoulders once again, the need inside me building.

“Harder, Gabriel, please,” I begged, the words breaking on a gasp.

My words must have snapped something inside him, because he was driving into me now, fast and without remorse, leading us both to the pleasure filled edge before pushing us completely over.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice sharper than I’d ever heard it.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze as he moved within me.

---