Page 39 of Saved from Obsession

It’s the permission I need from her, and I start to pump into her again. First slow, then faster, and I rub my thumb again at her swollen nub and her inner walls ripple around me. Then I pull almost completely out before plunging forward again—at the same time increasing the speed and pressure of my thumb—and Georgia flies apart all around me.

That’s all it takes to set me off—feeling her muscles tightening, hearing her little cries of pleasure, seeing her face as the ecstasy ripples across it—and I’m following her over the edge. It’s more intense than I ever remember it being, black spots flashing across my vision and tiny sparks sizzling across my skin.

It’s at this moment I know I’ll never get enough of her.

Pulling her into my arms, I roll over so Georgia is draped over me, her head tucked under my chin. I’m still inside her, and I realize I just did something I’ve never done before, but I can’t bring myself to panic about it.

Stroking my hand down her hair, I say softly, “That was incredible.”

“More than,” Georgia whispers, “it’s more than I even hoped for.”

I hate to say this part, but I have to. “I forgot about protection. I’m so sorry.”

She nuzzles her lips against my skin and murmurs, “It’s okay. I’m on something. And I haven’t been with anyone in… well, a lot of years.”

“Me neither.” I tunnel my fingers through her hair, brushing it away from her face. “Years, I mean. But next time, we can use protection if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

There’s a pause, and soft fingers trail across my chest. “I’m already comfortable with you, Leo. And I trust you.” Then she lifts herself off my chest and looks down at me with a mischievous smile. “And I hope our next time is going to be soon. Because I remember your promise.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” I cup her head and pull her down for a kiss. “There will definitely be a next time tonight. I’m planning on more than one.”

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

GEORGIA

I’m in the middle of a delicious dream about sex on a cruise ship when I’m woken by Leo moaning.

It’s low and pained, almost primal, like nothing I’ve heard come from him before. My heart seizes at the sound and I’m reaching for him instinctively, not sure if he’s hurt or having a nightmare. If he’s hurting, sick, I need to find out what’s wrong, get him help.

But if it’s a nightmare… I’m inches away from touching his shoulder when I stop, suddenly not sure if I should wake him.

I’ve never seen Leo have a nightmare before, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t had them. Maybe he never fell fully asleep when he was guarding me, always on alert. Is it possible that kept him from having nightmares all the nights he slept next to me?

If he’s having a nightmare… I’ve heard about men who experienced terrible things in the military waking up from a dream and becoming violent. Not that I’m scared of Leo, but if he accidentally hurt me, I don’t think he’d ever forgive himself.

Leo moans again and pushes at the sheets, dragging them off his chest. It’s dark in here, the only light from the cracked bathroom door, but I can still see his features pulled into a grimace. His jaw is clenched, a muscle ticking, and his brow is pulled down as if he’s in pain.

I can’t leave him like this—to suffer in his nightmare alone. After all the nights he held me when I woke up screaming or crying, now it’s my turn to be there for him. But I’m going to be careful. Scooting back another foot from him, I tentatively stretch my hand toward his shoulder again, hoping I’m not making a mistake.

“Leo,” I whisper his name, trying to find the right balance between commanding and soothing. Lightly touching his shoulder, I say his name again. “Leo, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

I repeat it once more, raising my voice close to a near-normal volume. This time, I give his shoulder a little shake and his eyes fly open, wide and panicked. He jerks up to a sitting position, sheet spilling around his waist to reveal the muscles in his bare chest and arms flexed and ready for battle.

For a second, fear slams into me—not of Leo, but of an unconscious reaction. If he thinks I’m someone from his nightmare, all that pent up tension could be directed at me.

But then Leo’s gaze shifts to mine, and all the panic and tension and confusion fall away in a blink. He sees me sitting several feet from him on the bed, my eyes wide with alarm, and his mouth pulls down into a grimace. “God, Georgia, I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’thurtyou, did I?”

Now I just feel guilty. How could I have thought for even a moment that Leo would hurt me? “No.“ I slide back over so I’m next to him and put my hand on his arm. “You didn’t even touch me. I’m fine. I was just worried about you, and I wasn’t sure about the best way to wake you up.”

Leo drags a hand across his face and through his hair, sighing heavily. “I haven’t had a dream like that in a long time. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t be sorry.” I lean against his side, sliding my arm around his back. His skin is slightly damp and chilled, so I rub my hand up and down the thick bands of muscles in his back. If it were any other time, I’d pause to admire the broad expanse of muscles and dusting of golden hair across his chest. But not now, not when it’s Leo who needs comforting for once, and not me.

“I’ve had plenty of nightmares,” I tell him. “I’m the last person you need to apologize to. I just want to make sure you’re okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

Leo’s expression goes tight, his eyes skittering away from me. “No.”

“Okay…” A slim needle of pain slides into my chest, but I can’t be angry at him for not wanting to talk about it. Disappointed, yes. But not angry.

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