Page 69 of Wicked Intentions (Wicked Games 3)
Ryan
“Take off your pants, you idiot!” Mariana says, laughing softly.
Her laugh somewhat eases the big knot under my breastbone formed by her tears, but I’m still worried. Beneath that tough exterior, she’s as fragile as glass.
All I want to do is make her feel safe. Make her smile. Banish forever those scared little whimpers she makes in her sleep.
I’ve never felt more protective of anything. Or more sure of what I want.
The only problem with what I want is that it comes with so much baggage, it could sink a Navy destroyer.
But I’ve got a plan to fix that.
“If it means puttin’ you down, the answer’s no.” I turn on the water, holding her up with one arm, and adjust the knobs until it’s nice and warm.
She looks appreciatively at the muscles flexing in my biceps. “Now you’re just showing off.”
They’re pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.
I set her against the tile wall, brace my legs apart, and go in for another kiss. Her arms and legs are wrapped around me, and she’s holding on tight. The moment my tongue touches hers, she moans softly into my mouth.
It makes my heart take off like a rocket, that sweet little sound. I love it the way I love football and barbecues and fireworks on the Fourth of July. The way I love Thanksgiving and Buzz Lightyear and guns with high-capacity magazines.
I love it like it’s a religion.
In a way, I suppose it is.
“Goddamn, Angel. You’re so fuckin’ sweet.” My voice is as rough as my breathing. She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and suddenly, it’s hard to breathe at all.
“You are,” she whispers. “You’re the sweetest man I’ve ever met, and if you’re not careful, I’ll—”
She breaks off and looks away, sharply inhaling.
I’ve felt like this precisely once before, as a senior in high school. I scored the winning touchdown on a game a bunch of college recruiters had come to see me play. My team carried me off the field on their shoulders, chanting my name. My parents were in the stands, glowing with fucking pride. Everyone was jumping up and down and screaming. An entire stadium of fans was losing their minds.
I was a king. I was a god. It was the best moment of my life.
Until now.
“You’ll what, baby?” I whisper. “Say it.”
She swallows hard, blinking.
I drop my head and nuzzle her neck, pressing my lips against the pulse throbbing near her ear. “Be brave.”
“You already know.”
“I want you to say it. Out loud.”
Digging into my shoulders, her fingers tremble. She gazes up at me from beneath long, curving black lashes. “I’ll…fall in love with you.”
You’d think the sound of your heart bursting would be like a wet, messy, booming thing, but really, it’s the gentlest little plink.
I groan and kiss her, hard. She kisses me back with wild abandon, her heart pounding against my chest, her whole body shaking. When she flexes her hips, I instantly lose all control.
I thrust deep into her, so deep she gasps into my mouth.
Then I close my eyes, bury my face in her neck, and revel in the feel of her body and the sounds of her cries as I drive into her over and over again. I’m as helpless to slow down or hold back as I am to stop the tsunami of emotion breaking over me. I’m flying, or falling, or being flung through space at a million miles per hour.
