All of Me (Inside Out #5.5)(4)

Following, I enter the small, carpeted foyer leading to the elevator that goes to every level of our private residence. The instant I step inside, Chris shuts the door and shrugs out of his jacket, his brown Van Halen T-shirt stretching over his impressive chest. “Undress,” he orders, tossing his jacket to the ground.

My eyes go wide. “Here?”

“Yes, here and now, Sara.”

His voice is hard, his jaw set, and when he reaches for his shirt and tosses it aside he exposes rippling muscle and his dragon tattoo, a creation of red, yellow, and blue that Amber designed. I swallow hard, aware that Chris doesn’t just dive into sex without the erotic push and pull of his control and mine, not unless he’s angry or standing on the edge of a proverbial cliff. I know he’d be seeking a whip right now if not for me. I know he’d be over that edge. But he’s not, and I won’t let him fall, not now or ever again.

I tear away my shirt and reach for my bra, removing it in an instant. Chris reaches for his boots, and his hot gaze rakes over my breasts and nipples. Feeling warm outside and bitterly cold inside, I remove my boots as well, and then together we move, both shoving away our jeans and underwear.

He advances on me in the same instant I free myself of the tangle of my panties, his big body caging me against the wall, his thick erection pressed to my hip. His fingers tangle roughly, erotically, into the strands of my hair and he drags my mouth to his. “Mine,” he proclaims. “Mine to protect,” he adds. “And mine to take.”

“Yes,” I whisper, and he swallows the word, his lips closing down on mine, hard and hot, his tongue licking into my mouth.

I taste hunger in him. I taste pain. I taste fear. The kind of fear that comes from blame. I ache to comfort him, but as his tongue is stroking against mine again, the pull of desire drugs my mind and awakens my body. I ache now in that bittersweet way I always want to last forever and ever. I feel it in the heaviness of my breasts, the burn of my nipples, the wet heat of my sex.

His hand caresses over my hip and he shifts our position, lifting my leg to his waist as he settles between my thighs. The thick pulse of his erection presses into the slick heat of my body and he releases my hair, his hand palming my breast, fingers tugging on one sensitive, swollen nipple.

I moan, and he answers me with a kiss of his mouth and the press of his cock to my sex. He drives into me, deep, hard, lingering for several seconds, his body arched around mine. I pant with the anticipation of what will come next, and he proves this isn’t about teasing or taunting. This isn’t about lingering or lovemaking. It’s about f*cking, and the adrenaline and the rush of pleasure that makes you forget to feel anything else.

He cups my backside and angles me into a fierce thrust, and then another. And still it’s not enough, and he wants more. It’s in the hard lines of his body, in the way his hands go up my back, molding me to him. I cling to him, burying my face in his shoulder and inhaling his deliciously raw, masculine scent, touching him, moving with him. Pumping and sliding and grinding, and still I sense he needs something I’m not giving him. I become wilder, move faster, and he feeds off of me. I feel his energy, his growing hunger, and I know when he’s finally at the place he needs to be, where there is only the raw burn between us. I feel the edge of release coming over me, over him.

“Chris,” I whisper, or maybe his name never makes it from my lips. My sex spasms and I can’t do anything but feel the sensations rocking me. He tightens his hold on me, a low growl escaping him. I fade in and out of awareness then, coming back to the room as he leans me back against the wall.

I loosen my legs from around his hips, sliding down his body. Chris leans over and grabs his shirt, pulling out of me and pressing it between my legs, one arm on the wall over my head.

My fingers go to his jaw, the light stubble teasing my fingers the way it teased my face. “What did Tristan say to you before we left?” I ask, certain that’s what set him off tonight.

“That I killed Amber and I’ll kill you, too.”

My heart clenches. “You know—”

“I know that you saved me—the way I wish I could have saved her.”

“You tried, Chris. You tried.”

“Not hard enough.”

“Is that what Tristan said?”

“It’s what I say.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have gone there tonight.”

“Hiding from it isn’t going to make it go away.” He scoops me up and moves to the elevator door, leaving our clothes behind. I don’t speak. I’m just glad he’s not hiding from me.





      Part Two



   Hers





Chris and I wake early to rain pattering on the bedroom windows. With both of us feeling the time change, we decide that going back to sleep is the exact right thing to do. It’s noon when we finally, truly wake, and the rain continues to fall, darkness cloaking the room.

“I’ve never lived anywhere it has rained as much as it does here,” I murmur, curling into Chris’s side, as he absently strokes my shoulder.

“It’s only November. Wait until the rainy season, in January.”

Twisting around to look at him, I balance half on my elbow and half on his chest. “That means we’re going to be here for Thanksgiving.”