Page 91 of Blindsided
For a long moment, we lie tangled together, sweat-slicked and breathing hard. He’s heavy on top of me, but I don’t want him to move, not yet. I want to stay in this bubble where nothing exists but the two of us, where there are no dead fathers or fake sisters or cheating husbands.
Eventually, he shifts, rolling to his side but keeping one arm draped across my waist, his face close to mine on the pillow.
“That was...” he starts, then shakes his head, apparently at a loss for words.
I laugh softly, feeling lighter than I have in months. “Yeah. It was.”
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my stomach, raising goosebumps in their wake. “No regrets?” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.
I consider the question seriously. “None,” I decided. “You?”
“Only that we didn’t do this sooner,” he says with a grin that makes my heart skip.
I swat his arm playfully. “We’ve known each other for all of two weeks!”
“Longest two weeks of my life,” he counters, pulling me closer for a slow, thorough kiss that rekindles the heat between us. His hand slides down my body, finding me still sensitive but already responding to his touch. “Round two?” he murmurs against my lips.
Chapter 33
Kane
Her answer is to guide my hand between her thighs, where she’s still slick from our first encounter. I groan at the sensation, feeling myself harden again almost instantly.
“Already?” she teases, her fingers wrapping around my length.
“What can I say? You have that effect on me.” I capture her mouth in another kiss, rolling her beneath me. This time, I want to take my time, to learn every inch of her body, to discover what makes her gasp and moan.
I trail kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, between her breasts. She arches into my touch, her hands in my hair, guiding me where she wants me. I take my time, savoring the salt of her skin, the softness of her curves, the way she trembles when I find a particularly sensitive spot.
“Kane,” she whispers, her voice ragged as I move lower, kissing my way down her stomach. “What areyou—oh!”
Her question dissolves into a moan as I settle between her thighs, my mouth finding her center. She tastes like us, like sex and desire, and I groan against her, the vibration making her hips buck.
I take my time, using my tongue to explore her folds, to circle her clit, to dip inside her. Her thighs tighten around my head, her hands fisting in my hair as I bring her closer and closer to the edge.
“Please,” she gasps, her body taut as a bowstring. “I need you inside me when I come.”
I’ve never been one to deny a beautiful woman what she wants, especially not this woman who’s somehow become essential to me in just two weeks. I move up her body, positioning myself at her entrance, then pause to look into her eyes.
“What?” she asks, her cheeks flushed, pupils dilated with desire.
“Just... taking it in,” I admit. “How fucking gorgeous you are like this.”
She smiles, a slow, sensual curve of her lips that makes my heart stutter. “Less looking, more action, MacGallan.”
I laugh, then groan as she reaches between us to guide me inside her. The sensation of her heat enveloping me is overwhelming, better even than the first time, now that I know what to expect.
I start to move, setting a rhythm that has hermoaning with each thrust. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper, her nails digging into my shoulders in a way that walks the perfect line between pleasure and pain.
“Just like that,” she urges, her voice breathy. “Don’t stop.”
As if I could. I’m lost in her—in the scent of her skin, the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body moving with mine. Everything else falls away—my father’s deception, my nonexistent sister, the uncertain future. There’s only this moment, only Kori.
I feel her tightening around me, her breath coming in short gasps that tell me she’s close. I shift slightly, changing the angle to hit that spot that made her cry out earlier. Her eyes fly open, locking with mine as she starts to come apart.
“Kane!” she cries, her inner muscles clenching around me in waves that trigger my own release. I bury my face in her neck, muffling my groans against her skin as pleasure overwhelms me.
Afterward, we lie tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin, neither of us willing to break the spell by speaking. Her fingers trace the lines of my tattoos, following the Celtic knots down my arm to where they disappear beneath the sheet now haphazardly covering our lower halves.
