Atone (Recovered Innocence #2)(23)

“I don’t lie.”

I shake my head at him. “And an idiot.”

“What do you want me to say? That I don’t see her when I look at you?”

“Do you?”

“Sometimes.”

“That’s because you look for her. Stop torturing yourself.”

His head jerks back and his lips part. He looks at me like he doesn’t know me or doesn’t want to know me.

I hate myself for being mean to him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t owe me anything. Just forget it. This getting drunk was a bad, bad idea.”

I reach for the bottle and try to stand, but my legs won’t hold me, and before I know it everything goes sideways. I put out a hand to catch myself and hit a hard chest. The world whooshes and rolls and we land on the bed with a bounce. He ends up on top of me, his hips between my legs. His mouth comes down hard on mine, hard enough to hurt, but I don’t care. Fisting his hair, I hold him to me. His tongue clashes with mine and it’s an all-out war. There’s no softness no finesse. Only need. Hot, hungry, angry need. His hands claw at my clothes. I shove his shirt up so I can get to his zipper.

His mouth clamps down on my breast and I let out a demented moan. Everything is frenzied and hot and aching. Need rises up and overtakes me. I’m wild, pushing down his pants to free him. My first feel of him makes us both groan. He’s hard and heavy in my hand as I stroke him. He shoves one finger, then two, inside me. My hips buck off the bed, driving his hand to the rhythm I desperately need. He picks up on my pace and before I know it I throw my head back and cry out.

He replaces his hand with his cock and pushes into me. I twist under him, my hands clamped to his backside. He’s all the way inside me and it’s making me crazy. He drives into me, pistoning his hips in brutal, punishing thrusts. I can’t get enough. Hooking my legs around his hips is all the encouragement he needs. I’m screaming, and he keeps coming at me, plunging deeper and deeper. I hold on to him as I come, digging my nails into his ass. He makes a final thrust and buries his face in my neck on a growl.

He’s heavy on top of me, but I don’t care. That was the single greatest thing to ever happen to me. His breath blows hot on the side of my face. I turn to look at him. His eyes are closed, clamped tight. He ducks his head so I can’t see him or try to read his reaction. Maybe I don’t want to know, because if he regrets this I might just shoot him.





Chapter 11


Beau


I f*cked up.

I f*cked Vera.

I f*cking f*cked Vera.

I f*cking loved f*cking Vera.

I shouldn’t f*cking love it, but I do.

It was f*cking intense. It was f*cking everything.

I’m a f*cking drunk-ass mess. I duck my head so she can’t see my face as I squeeze back the moisture in my eyes. I’m on top of her. My dick is still inside her and all I can think about is doing it again. I shouldn’t want that. I shouldn’t want to finish taking off her clothes to take my time to f*ck her properly. I shouldn’t be thinking about anything but the feel of her under me and her breasts pressing against my chest. And I definitely shouldn’t feel guilty.

I can’t move. I don’t want to. I can’t face what she might be thinking and feeling about what we just did. What if she regrets it? What if she thinks I regret it? I didn’t mean for it to happen. This wasn’t why I came over here tonight. Oh, God, what if she hates me.

Oh, shit.

Oh, f*cking shit.

No condom. Fuuuucckkk. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I try to pull out of her, but she’s got her hands clamped to my ass.

“Vera, let me go.”

“No regrets.”

I shake my head. I still can’t look at her.

“I mean it, Beau. Don’t you f*cking regret this or feel guilty about it.”

“I don’t.”

“Look at me when you say that.”

I raise my head and blink down at her. “We didn’t use a condom.”

“Oh, shit. It’s okay.”

“No. It really isn’t.”

“I’m clean and I can’t get pregnant, if that’s what this is all about.”

She releases her grip on me and I slide out of her and move to the side so I’m not crushing her.

“Well, yeah,” I tell her. “It’s pretty much all it’s about.”

“I thought you might be wishing it didn’t happen.”

I can’t honestly say I don’t.

She sighs and pushes at me to get me off her. Rolling onto my back, I throw my arm across my eyes. I can’t face her yet. I’m a f*cking coward, I know. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to crawl in bed and sleep off my drunk. In the morning I’ll figure everything out.

She slaps my bare leg. “Get out.”

It takes me a moment to get my elbows under me so I can sit up. “What?”

“You heard me.” She points at the door. “Get out.”

Somewhere along the way she stripped off the rest of her clothing and she’s standing in front of me totally naked. If I had any leftover drunken thoughts about regret, they strolled straight out of my head.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want you here.”