Page 89 of Enemies

Every inch he buries inside me is one more reminder he’s unlike any man I’ve experienced.

My back arches, my nails digging into his arms hard enough to leave marks.

“God, you’re slick.” His voice is thick with arousal.

Pleasure and pain blur, the throbbing core of need deep inside me the only thing I feel.

He withdraws, a slow drag, then shifts back in on a groan.

His jaw works, and I don’t know if it’s from the effort of what we’re doing or the effort of holding back.

It’s decadent and brutal, his muscled body pinning mine. Giving and taking. Daring and fulfilling.

He bends his head to bite the curve of my breast, and my body clenches around him.

My legs ache.

Wallpaper scratches my back.

Sweat has my fingers slipping on his.

The more I writhe, the tighter he holds me. His lips skim my neck, my jaw, my ear.

I was already close to shattering tonight, and I thought this was what I needed.

But it’s not. It’s more.

He’s over me, inside me, around me, part of me. This man I thought was the last person I’d ever trust.

Every punishing stroke of his hips chases away my fear, his regret.

It’s another few strokes before I arch, my climax starting at my core and rippling outward.

He moves through it, hips thrusting faster, deeper. I shudder with every movement of his gorgeous body.

The pace is relentless until the moment he freezes over me, going still. His jaw clenches in anguish as his release rips through him.

I’m in awe. It’s as if I’m seeing him for the first time.

When he shifts forward, his lips brushing my ear as he groans, “Fuck, Raegan,” I wrap my limbs around him to hold him there.

After, he pulls down the covers and tucks me into bed before heading for the bathroom. I hear the sound of the sink, water running, then nothing.

I stare at the ceiling, my heart echoing in the darkness.

I feel...alive.

Instead of healing me, what we did made a new edge, bright and gleaming and raw.

The difference is this edge is exhilarating. Full of possibility.

But most of all…

I’m not alone.

It feels like an epiphany.

When he returns, reaching for his discarded clothes, the feeling deflates.

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