Page 75 of The Savior

But the truth was, he didn’t understand.

Nothing about them made sense. None of their chemistry, the fire-sparking connection, had been a hint of an interest. Until now.

Chelsea lifted her hips and offered herself.

Her body made sense—those eyes that held him hostage, and the way she came.Thatmade sense. He understood the need to hear her come again as well as he knew he needed oxygen to breathe.

And in that moment when he pressed into her slick entrance and took the invitation she offered, Liam knew that they needed to fall into a delirium together—to fuck and come, to orgasm until life made sense.

He gnashed his molars, and inch by inch, speared her hot tightness. He gripped the back and arm of the couch, perched over her and holding back the thrusts that barked and begged for release.

“Liam—” Her voice caught, rich with bliss, then she left her lips parted.

He drove deeper, flexing between her legs, driving into her sex, until she had his length, and he held still, bracing himself against the delirious pleasure that had him captured.

Her legs snaked up around his thighs, and he withdrew—only enough to make her moan—then gave her his length again. Chelsea purred. Her nails dug into his back as she arched for more.

For one single second, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. This was, by far, the deepest, neediest moment of his life. He was sure. Then he pulled back and thrust, again and again.

Her nails bit into his back, and her legs squeezed against his ass. Sweat tickled the nape of his neck, and Liam flew. He fucked. He kissed. He pulled orgasm after moaning, crying, screaming orgasm from her lips until he couldn’t take another second of burning lust.

Then he came. The intensity stripped the walls of the world away, leaving him with nothing more than a bucking woman jailed in his arms.

He collapsed. Chelsea was limp. Her pussy muscles clenched and quivered until he could offer nothing but whispered gratitude in her ear.

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