Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart, #3)(85)

He ripped his zipper down and shoved his jeans and briefs over his hips, winding out of them as his eager pants rose into the air.

Mine escalated to match, desire racin’ through my veins as he freed himself.

A tremble rolled, and I was swallowing around the nerves that flickered through my senses.

Sensation heightened.

My mouth going dry.

His thick, hard penis bounced at his belly, straining for me as he kicked his jeans from his ankles and climbed right back between my thighs.

I was gasping, feeling lightheaded, unable to see.

Blinded by this lust.

Blinded by this love.

I swatted around for the drawer on my nightstand, silently thanking my mama for constantly meddlin’, even though I’d wanted to crawl under a table when she’d shoved the big box of condoms at me the other day and whispered, “Just in case.”

He tore into the box and had his massive length covered in a flash.

Just as fast, he crawled back over me, and my thighs were gripping at his hips, anticipation wracking through the middle of me.

Oh lord. Was this really happenin’?

Our breaths mingled and our hearts careened, tempos lost to the urgency that struck in the air, and Maxon was running his nose along my jaw, inhaling as he went, as if he were looking for some sort of control that had long since slipped.

But I was so tired of fighting this truth.

The truth of who we were.

No longer could I lie to myself.

And I was issuing his name like praise.

A promise.

A plea.

“Maxon.”

Because it’d been too long, and every second that he wasn’t mine seemed like a complete waste of time.

And I was pretty sure that Maxon agreed because he took me in one quick stroke.

One that sent the oxygen gushing from my lungs and exploding in the air.

One that filled me so full that the only thing I could feel was him.

Every molecule taken.

Captured.

A low groan rumbled in the depths of Maxon’s chest, something dark and deep and desperate. His forehead dropped to mine. “Izzy Baby. Fuck . . . you feel so good. Never thought I would get to feel you like this again.” He nuzzled the side of my face. “Motherfuckin’ heaven.”

Those eyes met mine, so intense, and I swore that I could feel him sinking all the way inside.

“Little Bird.” It was his own prayer. An appeal.

He gathered me up, and I dug my fingers into his back.

Holding him to me.

Fiercely.

Knowing there was no chance after this that I could ever let him go.

He began to take me.

Wholly.

Without measure.

Letting himself go.

Hips rocking in rough strokes that sent my mind spinnin’.

They grew with each thrust of his body. A drive of desperation as we raced for the top.

This war of give and take.

And I could feel it, riding high, coming together

Coalescing. Gathering to a breaking point.

“You’re so gorgeous. So fucking beautiful. Do you have any idea?”

“Maxon, please.”

“Shh . . . Little Bird . . . I’ve got you. I won’t let you down. Not ever.”

Vibration shook through my body.

He reached between us, stroked me where I was achin’.

“Oh, God.” I almost sobbed it.

In an instant, he sent me soaring.

Ecstasy shattering me into a billion unrecognizable pieces where I became partner to his dark sky.

A scatter of stars strewn through the heavens.

And I was whimpering, fingers clutching his hair as he took me higher, the intensity almost too much, my body stretched taut as he drove into me again and again.

Kept me there.

Refused to let me fall until he met me.

Until we were flying.

High, high above the trees.

Where we’d always belonged.

Where he was my forever.

Endless.





Twenty-Six





Izzy





I bolted upright in bed, and then I was scrambling to clutch the covers to my chest when I realized I was naked.

Naked.

That was all it took for an onslaught of memories to assault me. Picture after picture. Heat flashed across my flesh as if he were still touching me, and with a trembling hand, I reached out and brushed my fingers over the vacant spot on the bed where I last remembered him being.

Sheets cold, and somehow, every part of me was still on fire.

Sunlight spilled in through the window that was cracked open, and I wondered when he’d gone. When he’d slipped out into the rising morning the way he used to do.

He’d held me last night, that gorgeous man curled around me from behind.

Quietly.

Soundly.

Nothin’ but our spirits whispering the weight of our thoughts.

Of course, that had been after he’d taken me time and again.

Every time I’d drift, he’d be reaching out. Every time I opened my mouth, he’d kiss the questions away.

For that sacred moment in time, it’d just been us. Our bodies. Our hands and our hearts.

Loving.

Adoring.

Putting everything else aside.

There was nothing like the morning sun to shine a spotlight on all the questions that still pervaded my mind.