Page 98 of When Hearts Remember

My nerves light up from the simple touch and my clit pulses. Unbidden, I place my hands over his and he freezes, halting us in place.

Time suspends—we’re caught in a heightened dimension where everything sharpens—the sounds, scents, touches, colors.

Multicolored strobe lights wash over us, the roaring crowds fading into the background as my thundering pulse thunders inside my ear.

He’s waiting for me. To see what I’d do.

He’ll let me go if I pull away, if I give him the slightest denial. I don’t know how I’m sure of it, but I am.

His heavy breaths caress my ear, his chest grazing my back with each inhale.

Awareness throbs between us—heady and addictive. It’s taut, a rope slowly burning, its strands breaking, thinning, until we hang on by the barest thread.

A fire flickers inside me, my nerves sparking with each passing second.

I want, no need, more.

More.

An impulse—no—a surety reverberates in my body.

In this dark environment, with writhing bodies all around us, I want to turn off my mind and let my body take over.

Closing my eyes, I gyrate my backside, enough so that it grazes the front of his pants.

The rope snaps.

A growl snakes through his teeth, raw and unrestrained, as he tugs me hard against him. He takes over, moving us in tandem, his fingers trailing circles on my bare skin before slipping inside the cutouts…just slightly.

It’s torture.

I moan, my head arching back, resting on his muscular chest as he sweeps me up in this sultry dance.

I don’t know what we’re doing. I don’t know why my body moves against him like I was born to do this. I should pull away. I should stop this madness.

I wonder if we’ve been heading to this breaking point all along. Each glare, each barb, the way my body comes alive in his presence, and how he always seems to thaw and become more human with me.

Maybe it’s been foreplay all along.

It feels right. Too right.

Like something I’ve been craving and wasn’t aware of before.

His nose grazes my neck again and I whimper as those talented fingers travel higher until they almost graze the underside of my breasts. Common sense flies out the window as every atom of my body focuses on the sensual touches of the mysterious man behind me.

Wetness seeps out of my thong and I’m so glad I’m wearing a black dress because I can’t be sure if I’m making a mess between my legs.

“Fuck,” a guttural rasp, so faint I wonder if it was directed at himself. “I’ve waited…”

My mind is a muddled mess as I gyrate against him, every part of me yearning for more. This has to be lust. I haven’t been with anyone since I woke up. Heck, am I still a virgin? I can’t remember.

“Ethan, I…I…”

“Yes, hummingbird? What do you need?” There’s a softest pressure on my neck, my senses delayed until I feel the possessive suction followed by a lick.

He’s kissing me. Tasting my neck like he’s famished.

Each drugging pull is a direct caress on my clit as I melt into his embrace. I need him to do more, to relieve this building pressure between my legs. I can’t think or question what we’re doing, or why I’m responding this way.

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