Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(115)

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry I hurt you like that, E-Erik.”

“Hey, hey,” he said, leaning away just enough to reach for her cheeks. He clutched them tenderly, turning her tear-streaked face to his. “We hurt each other. We didn’t love like kids, but we were kids. We made mistakes.”

She nodded, sniffling softly. “Big ones.”

“Bad ones.”

“Terrible ones.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head slowly. His voice was intense with need and awe when he told her, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she responded on a sigh, her lips tilting up into a brilliant, glorious smile. “I love you forever.”

Leaning his head down, he pressed his lips to hers, surprised—in the best possible way—to feel her fingers reach for the buttons on his shirt and start unfastening them. He followed her lead, slipping his hands under her sweater and pushing it over her belly, skimming his palms over her breasts, and leaning away from their kiss as he slipped it over her head. He shrugged out of his unbuttoned shirt and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Laire reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, then straightened her arms, letting it glide down to the floor in a whisper.

His eyes dropped to her perfect breasts, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Just as perfect as they were when she was his girlfriend, they were fuller now, no doubt from her pregnancy. Glancing up for permission, she nodded as he reached for them, cupping the soft mounds of warm flesh from the sides, plumping them together, and sighing from the sight.

“You’re . . . beautiful,” he murmured, looking up at her for a moment before sucking one pert nipple between his lips.

She whimpered, a low “unh” sound, as she plunged her hands into his hair, pulling him closer and arching her back as he skimmed his lips between the valley of her breasts to kiss the peak of the other.

“Erik,” she moaned, breathless with need.

He knew that if he slipped his fingers into her panties, they’d be damp, and his cock, already rock-hard, pulsed, swelling impossibly bigger.

It had been a long, long time since he’d had sex, and even then, he’d come on Laire’s stomach, not inside her. When he’d dreamed of tonight, he’d imagined going slow—treating her gently and with reverence, and drawing out every possible moment between them. But her response to him was just as hungry as his was to her—and suddenly he felt himself changing gears. Fuck slow. They could go slow later. What they needed—what they both really needed right now—was to be together in the most intimate way that a man and a woman could share themselves.

“I wanted to go slow,” muttered Erik, nuzzling her taut nipple before kissing it again.

“I don’t need slow,” said Laire, forcing him to look up at her. “I just need you.”

He nodded, reaching for her jeans, which he unbuttoned and unzipped. He slipped his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and yanked, pulling every shred of clothing over her hips and exposing her to him in the most vulnerable possible way.

In response, she smiled at him, her eyes dark as she leaned down and stepped out of her pants, walking around to the side of the bed, climbing on top of the comforter and kneeling in the middle.

His shaking fingers unbuckled his belt, and he shoved his pants over his hips without unbuttoning them, wincing at the burn of denim over skin, but hopping frantically to get his clothes the fuck off so he could be as naked as she was.

From the bed, she giggled softly, her small shoulders bunching as he cursed at his jeans, one side catching on his ankle. “Fuck!”

“That’s the idea,” she said. “You need help?”

Leaning down, he pulled the offending cotton from his body and chucked them across the room. “No, ma’am.”

When he looked up, her eyes were wide, focused, with a bit of trepidation, on his cock. It was veined and swollen, standing straight up, the cap purple and slick. Deprived of a woman for so many years, it was more than ready to make up for lost time.

Licking her lips, Laire raised her dark eyes to his as he stood beside the bed, his thighs pressed against the comforter.

“I’m . . .,” she started, dropping her eyes to his sex again and blinking.

Scared? Worried? Fuck. He should have made sure the lights were all out. Did she want to back out? Did she want more time? He couldn’t help the small groan of deep longing that released from his throat as he watched her eyes trail back up his body.

“. . . ready,” she whispered, locking her eyes with his.

Thank fuck. He let go of the breath he’d been holding.

Climbing on the bed and spreading his legs into a V, he opened his arms to her. “Come over here, darlin’.”

Still on her knees, she crawled forward until she was kneeling at the apex of his legs, his straining cock standing tall between them.

“Are you on birth control?”

She shook her head. He reached for the bedside table, reaching inside the drawer for the box of condoms he’d picked up earlier in the day. Grabbing one and ripping it open with his teeth, he pinched the end and rolled it over his throbbing sex before meeting her eyes.

“You sure you want this?”

“I want this,” she said, licking her lips, “but I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”