Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(68)
“Was it a bad one?” she asks as she wraps her arms around me and hauls me in close. “You called out my name.”
“I did?” I don’t remember doing that in the dream, but hell. It was all happening so fast, Danny’s words coming at me, carving me up and destroying me like lethal weapons.
“Yeah.” She sighs against my bare chest, I feel the gust of warm breath, and like a bastard, my body tightens in response. “You sounded angry. And sad.”
I definitely experienced both emotions in my dream. But I want to forget them, push them aside and focus on the woman I have in my arms at this very moment.
The woman I love.
“Jen, I need to say something to you.” I take a deep breath, ready to launch into an apology, a plea, to offer her whatever words I can to convince her to stay and never leave me again.
“Don’t. Please.” She shifts up, her fingers pressing against my mouth to silence me. “There’s no need to say anything. I know how you feel.”
The hell she does. I part my lips, fully intending to forge on, but before I can get a word out she replaces her fingers with her mouth and kisses me.
Just like that, I’m lost. In the taste of her soft, hungry mouth, in the feel of her warm, slender body. I roll over onto my back and she follows, lying on top of me, our mouths searching, our tongues seeking.
“Make love to me,” she whispers against my lips. “One last time, Colin. Please.”
One last time? If I have anything to say about it, this is just the beginning. I want to tell her that. I need to tell her how I feel but she’s kissing me again, long, hot, drugging kisses that push all rational thought out of my brain, and I’m done for.
Jen
I know I shouldn’t do this, but I want just one more chance with him before I go. That’s all I’m asking for. I know that together, we’re not going to work. He can’t deal with my past and what I’ve done. I can barely deal with it, so how can I expect acceptance from him?
I’d lain awake forever, unable to sleep, my body too restless, my brain too busy with my thoughts, my worries. I heard him yell, though I couldn’t understand what he’d said. He sounded so angry, though. Until I heard him call my name.
And then he just sounded sad. Pitiful.
Unable to resist, I’d gone to him just like all the other nights I snuck into his room. He lay in bed clad in just his underwear, the sheets twisted around his legs, baring him to my gaze. His golden hair an absolute mess, the strain and worry his dream was causing him written all over his gorgeous face.
Without thought I slipped into bed with him, untangling the sheet and pulling it over the both of us. He turned to me in his sleep, as if he knew I was there and sought me out. My heart flipped over in my chest and I snuggled close to him, desperate to offer him the comfort he needs one last time.
“I love you,” I whispered against his chest, feeling safe knowing he wasn’t awake. “I wish you could see that and accept it.”
When he finally wakes up, he looks so pleased to find me in his bed that I know we’re going to have sex. I want it, literally crave feeling him move within me.
His kisses set me on fire. His hands are all over my body, touching me reverently, as if I am special. I believe that in his eyes, his mind, I am special, and the thought fills me with so much warmth, so much love, I almost want to cry.
I focus instead on him. On his beautiful body, the way he looks at me when I put my mouth on his in a hard, hot kiss. I kiss him everywhere, memorizing his every line and muscle with my lips, branding him as mine.
Because he is mine. We will belong to each other forever, even if we can’t be together.
I strip his underwear off with trembling fingers, touching him everywhere I can. His stomach, his legs, his erection. His hands shake when he reaches for me and helps me shed my clothes. Within minutes we are a tangled mess of arms and legs, our mouths fused, our bodies connected, as he pushes inside me. So deep, I cry out in pure, exquisite pleasure.
I asked him to make love to me, and God, he does, so perfectly. This isn’t a fast, hard coming together for us. He takes his time with me, as do I with him. His touch, his mouth and hands and fingers, are gentle, reverent, searching as they skim over my body, paying particular attention to all the right places. The spots he knows arouse me, give me so much pleasure I’m afraid I might fall completely apart far too soon. I feel worshiped, beautiful, loved.
Loved.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe I’m projecting my own feelings onto him, but I feel so completely connected to him in this very moment. As if he understands me and I understand him. That we’re able to toss aside all past hurts and mistakes and are both finally ready to focus on the here and now.
Wishful thinking, I suppose, since I know it’s not true. But I can’t help it.
And when he moves inside me so deep, deeper, until he’s a complete and total part of me, my orgasm slowly takes over, washing over my skin, through my veins, pulsing through my bones. It feels like an awakening. A realization. My breath lodges in my throat, my belly flutters, and my heart threatens to leap out of my chest.
I’ve never felt so lost, so found, so utterly . . . confused.
So fitting. I’ve been confused when it comes to Colin since the day I met him.
“I hate that I’m taking part in this,” Fable whispers to me when I meet her at the curb in front of Colin’s house. She’d driven Drew’s truck over to pick me up. I’d texted her hours ago, basically begging her to do it. She agreed, no questions asked, but now she’s balking. Can I blame her? It’s five in the morning, the sun isn’t even up yet, and I’m leaving like a thief in the night.