Carter Reed 2 (Carter Reed #2)(57)

I kissed everywhere. I caressed all over her. My god, I loved this woman. Cupping her breast, I ran my hand over her nipple. It sprang up, and she gasped.

“Carter,” she moaned, grinding into me.

I knew. I know. I needed to be in her. She was beautiful. So damn beautiful. I wanted to savor every time with her. I wanted to relish every inch of her. Setting her against the wall, I knelt and kissed my way down. Her lips. Her chin. Her throat. Her chest. Between her breasts. Each of her breasts. My tongue swept around her nipple, and I sucked before continuing down to her stomach. My hands cradled her hips, and I felt her starting to tremble as my mouth lingered there.

She grabbed a handful of my hair and held on, like she was guiding me. A jolt of pleasure surged in me, and I lowered her shorts, then took her in my mouth. She bucked under me and another moan came from her. Her whole body shuddered now. I kept licking and sucking. I loved this woman. I was going to love every part of her.

“Carter.” She tried to pull me up. “Please.”

I thrust my tongue inside her, but she’d had enough. She jerked on my hair again, so I stood and used my fingers. They thrust inside her, going deep, and lifting her off the floor. One of her legs wrapped around my waist as I leaned over her, my fingers going in and out. I held her weight and kept her still. I kept moving. In and out. Deeper, then pulling out, plunging back in.

I looked up to see that she was watching me. Her eyes were lidded, darkened with lust, but I saw the love she had for me. I groaned. I couldn’t stay out of her anymore. “Fuck it.” I hoisted her up one more time, and Emma was waiting for me. She was ready. Her other leg wrapped around my waist again, and then I was in her. All the way.

We moved together.

I kept thrusting, and she grinded against me. Our hips strained against each other. I didn’t think I could get more inside her, but she changed our angle, and suddenly, I was there. I was so deep. As I kept sliding in and out of her, I closed my eyes and just felt her. She trailed a hand down my face, tracing my lips.

That small touch. So gentle. So loving. That was Emma. Then she took hold of my hip and began matching my movements. She pounded down on me, as hard as I was going. We were screwing and making love, all at the same time.

I felt my climax coming. I didn’t want it to. I wanted to hold out, and I slowed, gripping her hips so she slowed as well. As she did, she held herself still, and my hand went to her entrance. I began rubbing over it, applying pressure and then softening as she gasped. Then, when I felt her body starting to tense, I began moving inside her again.

She was coming.

I kept touching her, kept thrusting in her.

Her legs suddenly convulsed, wrapping my waist in an ironclad grip, and I felt her come. Her entire body lifted, arching against me. She kept trembling, and I waited, going a little slower. As she started to subside, I watched. I waited. Then her eyes opened, and she bit down on her lip, nodding to me.

It was my turn.

I began pounding into her. Harder. Deeper. Shit. I would never have enough of this woman. Ever. Emma worked with me, holding my hips as an anchor while she lifted her body up and down, too. I leaned a hand against the wall above her head, my other hand grabbed her thigh, and I kept going. I was going to come. It was nearing. I closed my eyes, once more going into her, and it washed over me. Waves of pleasure rolled through me, leaving me weakened and satiated. No, that was Emma. No other woman made me feel like this. It was her, only her.

Opening my eyes, I found her watching me and smiling as her chest heaved for air.

“I love you,” she murmured.

Goddamn. I kissed her and whispered against her lips, “I love you, too.”

“Carter.”

She sounded so sad. I pulled back and waited. A hand always punched through my chest when I heard that tone from her, when she was hurting.

“I’m scared you won’t get her back.”

That hand was still in my chest, and it rammed further down, all the way to my gut. I shook my head. The hand kept ripping through me, but I said, “I will find her. I promise.”

A voice in my head warned me not to lie to her, but I told him to shut up. I would, but I couldn’t promise to find her alive. I prayed Emma didn’t push that. I couldn’t say those words. I couldn’t lie to her.

She didn’t.

She nodded and leaned against me, letting me hold all of her weight. I was grateful to hold her there, just enjoying the feel of her in my arms. I would hold her till my last breath, if I could.

“Uh…”

We tensed, hearing Michael clear his throat on the other side of the door.

“I don’t know what I’m interrupting in there, but I have to interrupt,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m going to keep apologizing because, again, I have no idea what I’m interrupting, and I have to do that. Interrupt. That’s what I’m doing right now, and I’d punch a guy for doing this to me—”

“What is it?” A growl formed in the back of my throat.

“Uh. Yeah. Peter and Drake are back.” He paused. “They found Andrea.”

Emma gasped, shoving me back. She dropped to the floor and ran for the door, but I caught her arm, swinging her back to me. “What?” A snarl twisted her lips.

I grabbed her shirt from the floor and pushed it against her chest.

“Oh.” As she covered herself, I pulled up her shorts. She glanced down and another, “Oh,” left her lips. “Yeah. Thank you.”