Space (Laws of Physics #2)(62)

I don’t know what I expected, but when our eyes locked, his were an odd combination of kind and covetous. “Then will you let me know you?”

I pressed my lips together to keep my chin from wobbling. “Why? To what purpose?”

The question seemed to amuse him. “I need someone to listen to my heart.” His face inched closer. “And it only wants to beat for you.”

Wha—

Bah!

Argra!

DAMN POET!

It was no use. I couldn’t stop the tears. Wherever fear meets hope, that’s where I was. I wanted to believe him. I wanted it so very, very badly. But he’d been intensely angry with me just days ago. Too fast. This is all happening too fast. And I know better. He is a wildly famous musician! You will be just one of his many consorts!!

“Are you going to hurt me?” I blurted, knowing I sounded broken. Gripping his wrist, I gave myself permission to enjoy the strength of him, the solid sturdiness, even if it ultimately turned out to be a lie. “Because if this is payback, you win. You win. Consider me punished. I surrender.”

His eyes grew impossibly soft, concern etched itself between his eyebrows. “No.”

No.

What he really should have said was, Not yet. Because, eventually, he was going to leave, or I was going to leave, and it was going to hurt.

“I don’t understand what’s happening. You said—” I sniffled, shaking my head, blinking against hot tears, “You said you regretted it. You said you weren’t—that you didn’t know me, and that you didn’t—”

“Shh. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”

Abram brought his other hand to my opposite cheek and pressed his forehead against mine, our stomachs, hips, and legs brushing, warm accidental touches that set my pulse racing. I couldn’t think.

“Mona, I don’t know you, not really. You keep everyone at an arm’s length. But you’ve given me glimpses, scraps, and they’ve only made me hungry for more.”

His right hand slid down my jaw to my neck, curling around the back of it; his left hand smoothed over my shoulder, to my arm, and gripped my waist, pulling me to him evocatively; one of his legs moved against mine, bracketing it, and he angled his body such that all those accidental touches now felt powerfully purposeful.

I felt myself shake with the effort to hold still, but not because I wanted to push him again. For once, for the very first time, I was surrounded and overwhelmed by another person and my instinct was to draw him closer, ever nearer, sink into him, merge our bodies together, accept his strength and cocoon myself within.

Abram’s nose nuzzled mine, his lips brushed my lips with the faintest of touches, and he whispered, “Let me in.”





15





Fluid Dynamics





*Abram*





She was shaking.

The plan had been to find her and kiss the hell out of her. But she was cold, and shaking, and crying, and it wrecked me.

I made a new plan. I wrapped my arms around her, my intention was to hold her for as long as she’d allow, but Mona surprised me by lifting her chin and pressing her lips to mine.

Fuck. . . YES.

Without inhaling, my lungs filled, and I heard a single note between my ears, perfectly pitched, traveling down my spine and heating every nerve ending with carnal, electric want. I’d wanted this for so long, it seemed there’d never been a time I hadn’t thought about it, fantasized about this moment with her.

Her hands gripped my sides, her nails digging into me, anchoring me, as though to ensure that—should I withdraw—I wouldn’t leave unscathed. As punishment? I found I didn’t care, or couldn’t, because her lips parted and I wanted in.

My tongue swept inside. She moaned, sucking, swallowing, her mouth slick and soft and fiery hot. I moved instinctively, walking her backward, charging forward as though I could enter her this way, gain access to the furtive parts of her through strength and force. And she, rather than stumble backward, jumped slightly and wrapped her legs around my waist.

Fuck, I was hard. My mouth alternately devoured and sipped her. So hard. My body selfishly sought relief as her back met with the wall of the pool. I rocked against the apex of her legs, spreading her wider, and she tilted her head back to gasp, shivering again.

But then her mouth immediately returned, fused to mine, and she tilted her pelvis—up and down—using me, rubbing herself on my cock through the layers of our bathing suits.

This is insane.

A spark turned inferno. My skin hindered me. I grew frustrated by the constraints of my body. It only imprisoned, subjugated and diminished this transcendent craving, reducing the wonder of it to something merely carnal, physical.

Her breath hitched and she broke away to suck in air while her body chased friction, bouncing clumsily, riding the length of my shaft as sparks and flares and bursts of hot promise ignited at the base of my spine.

But I wasn’t inside her, and I wanted in, every barrier removed. I wanted inside her, all her secret places. I wanted her open, exposed, bare, and hot, and wet, and panting . . . and I pictured her that way. Even with my hands on her now, even with her clothed pussy sliding over my dick encased in my board shorts, I saw her naked, reclined, reaching for me, wanting me to be inside. That’s what I saw. Not this imperfect, clumsy, hurried grasping.