What He Wants (Second Chances #1.5)(14)

“Are you okay? Do you want to get out?”

I shook my head and reached down into the water, wrapping my hand around his cock. Immediately, it jumped and began to get hard. Brett groaned and leaned his head back against the tub.

“Melissa, are you sure this is what you want? I don’t want to hurt you.”

The harder his cock got, the harder I massaged him. “I’m not worried about that. Just sit back and let me do the work this time.”

Holding his face in my hands, I kissed his lips and plunged my tongue inside so I could taste him. I moaned into his mouth and slid my body against him, holding him close. My clit throbbed uncontrollably, and I knew that I wouldn’t last long once I got started, even if it did hurt.

“Do we need to use a—”

“No,” I growled, biting the lobe of his ear. “I’m on the pill.”

Moaning, he lifted me up in his arms and tilted me back so that he could suck my nipples. “Then what are you waiting for?” he teased, releasing me.

Biting my lip, I lowered onto his body and slid all the way down. The soothing water helped the tenderness, but I could still feel him stretching me. It felt so amazingly good I didn’t want it to end. Up and down I moved my body over him, feeling him tense beneath me. The faster I went, the harder he gritted his teeth.

“I’m going to come, baby. You’re so f*cking tight.”

Knowing this was the last time I’d be with him, I held on tight and closed my eyes as my body was sent over the edge at the same time he released inside of me. I concentrated on his breathing, the way he rubbed my back as his cock pulsated inside me, filling me with his release. He was so tender yet rough, a gentleman yet dirty at times; the perfect man.

Slowly, I slid off of him and kissed his smiling lips before lounging back into the steamy water. After washing off with the soap, Brett took my hand and helped me out of the tub, wrapping a towel around my body that he had hanging on the towel rack. He gently dried off my skin and stared down at me, his gaze serious.

“What’s wrong?” I asked softly.

Pulling me into his bedroom, he threw back the covers on his bed and I slid in with him following behind. He faced me and held me in his arms, tracing his fingers across my lips. “Stay with me,” he murmured, “and I’m not talking about just tonight.”

My chest tightened in regret; this was what I wanted to avoid. I didn’t want to get attached to him or to anyone for that matter. It was too scary and it would only break my heart.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I want to see you again, Melissa. Not just so we can f*ck, but so we can get to know each other. I know you feel the connection just as much as I do.”

Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve been hurt one too many times.” When his lips touched mine, I opened my eyes and sighed, leaning into his kiss.

“So have I,” he replied, “but that’s in the past. This is now. You can’t be afraid for the rest of your life.”

We stared at each other for the longest time in silence, my heart aching. “No, you can’t,” I whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He nodded, even though I knew he didn’t believe me. Kissing me gently, he laid his head down and sighed, keeping his gaze on me. “Goodnight, Melissa.”

“Goodnight, Brett.”

Laying my head down, I reluctantly closed my eyes and let him hold me. I knew that if I looked into his beautiful gray gaze again that I would falter; I would stay. I couldn’t let that happen. Over time his hands began to slow their circles on my back and his breathing became slower … deeper. Opening my eyes, I peered over at the clock and was shocked to see that three hours had passed. Brett’s arm was still around my waist, and deep down I didn’t want to leave him; I wanted to see where this road could lead me.

Should I stay? Or should I go? What the hell was I going to do?





(A Second Chances Standalone)

(The continuation of Melissa and Brett’s story)



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A NIGHT AT The bar, several tequila sunrises, and a gorgeous guy staring at me from across the room … how could I resist? Talking became flirting, flirting became touching, and then the touching led me to where I was now.

There were only a couple more hours until the first rays of sunshine would alert the coming of dawn. I was angry with myself for letting things go too far with the man sleeping soundly off to my side. How could I be so stupid yet love everything I did?

Sleeping with random men was not something I would ever do, and definitely not something I should be doing now. I was twenty-eight years old and already divorced from my college love, who made the mistake of sleeping with our whore of a neighbor. She’d spread her legs for anyone. Daniel just couldn’t resist, and of course I couldn’t resist divorcing him when he begged me to give him another chance.

Marrying him was a mistake, and I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to think he would stay faithful. After all, I had known of his reputation as a wealthy playboy. He pursued me with a vengeance and I fell hard. Shame on me once, never twice.

After our divorce was final, my friends decided it was time I celebrated … and boy did I celebrate. We went out to bars every weekend and I dated many different men, which soon became tiring; they were either too wrapped up in themselves or complete douche bags. I had yet to find a man that was completely interested in who I was, and took the time to put my needs first. At least, until my gaze met the handsome stranger’s from across the room of the bar whose bed I now occupied.