Kiss the Sky (Addicted #3)(89)

My sex clenches around him, three or four times, my entire body writhing. My toes curling, my moans morphing into deep breaths of dizzy pleasure.

“Let it out,” he whispers in my ear as he continues his mind-numbing pace.

Tears prick my eyes as I fall down from the high, but he’s not done. I realize he hasn’t come yet. He continues to rock against me, building me back up.

I never want this feeling to leave.

As if he senses this, he makes the moment, somehow, pass like an eternity.

And then we both reach the peak in unison. When he comes, he thrusts forward, hard, and then he rocks his hips against me, milking his climax until we’re both lightheaded and breathing heavy.

As everything slows, I become acutely aware of my surroundings and thoughts again. Of what happened. I was the virgin in this scenario. He’s done this before, and I want to know if I was awful. Or if he’s had someone better. I’m competitive by nature. In bed—I want to be the best he’s ever had. It might be too much to ask.

His chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath. He hovers above me as if preparing to do it all over again.

I kind of hope so.

And then he begins to laugh, his smile enveloping his face—not in humor but in happiness.

“What?” I ask softly.

He stares at me like I’m the only one he wants here. Underneath him. “You and me,” he says and licks his lips. “We f*ck like winners.”

I grin. He didn’t say I f*ck like a winner. It was we. Us. Together.

“You have ten seconds,” he tells me, “before I take you again. You ready?”

Oh yeah. I’m ready.





[ 31 ]

CONNOR COBALT



We didn’t do it once. Or twice. Or even three times. After I exhausted her mind and body, I finally begin to untie her from the bed.

Her eyes flutter wearily, but she fights to stay awake, a quality I admire.

“What no more?” she asks softly, humor to her voice.

“It’s time to sleep.” I toss my belt on the floor and kiss her reddened wrist. Faint bruises and marks blemish her naked body, and I can’t wait to see what she thinks of them in the morning.

I place her hands gently by her side, and I carefully wipe the spot between her legs with the towel. Rose cringes just slightly. She was tighter than I expected, but she was also incredibly wet. Still, I didn’t want to take her slowly. She’ll be sore in the morning. I grin as I imagine how every time she aches and moves she’ll remember me inside of her.

Quickly, I throw the towel in the hamper and clean myself off. I find another pair of boxer-briefs from my suitcase and pull them on before I head back to bed.

Rose’s eyes have closed, but they open a fraction when I slip underneath the covers next to her. She scoots closer, a gesture unlike the guarded girl I know. I take advantage and grab her around the waist, tucking her in my arms.

She rests her head on my chest and her lips softly kiss the bare skin. She doesn’t say anything, and my hand falls to her round bottom. I could get used to this vulnerable side of her.

“I think I understand how someone could get addicted to sex,” she says softly.

“Yes, well, your sister doesn’t have sex like that.” I stroke her damp hair, and my comment stirs her almost fully awake.

“And how would you know?” she combats, as if presuming I slept with Lily. And there goes that vulnerable side.

I smile. “Maybe we should take it slower next time,” I say. “It seems all these endorphins and hormones have made you a little—”

Her eyes burst into flames. “If you say stupid—”

I kiss her lips, cutting her off. She settles down, probably more out of exhaustion than true surrender. She is an awful submissive. But that’s what I adore about her. She’s a challenge. My challenge.

I glance down at Rose and her eyes are barely open now. “I’m glad I have you,” she tells me before her lids sink closed, and she drifts asleep in my arms. But I’m the one who should be glad.

I had no one before Rose. No true friends. No family, not really.

Now I have her. I have people I care about it. People that I want to protect.

Now I have everything.

The only thing about having everything is that you can lose it all.





[ 32 ]

ROSE CALLOWAY



I can’t walk. Literally. I am so f*cking sore that the short trek to the bathroom had me moaning in pain, but when I think back to last night, I feel like a little school girl who can’t restrain a blinding, giddy smile. I used to glare at those girls, the ones who drooled over boys. But I understand now. Some things just make you overwhelmingly happy. Having sex definitely did it for me.

The aches are worth these unrestrained feelings. Plus, there’s nothing in the world like being pampered by Connor Cobalt.

He brought me breakfast in bed and alternated between kissing and biting my neck, a sensation that I have begun to love too much. I plan to spend most of the day on the couch or tucked in bed, but I had to go to the bathroom to at least do my hair, wash my face—half of my normal morning routine.

My robe hangs on my arms as I brush my teeth, careful to distance the sleeves from the running faucet. After I rinse, I wipe my lips on a cloth, and my eyes lock on the diamond collar. It’s gorgeous, even if it makes me look like his pet. I zip up my toiletry kit, and my robe falls off my shoulder. I go to lift it up, but I notice the outline of a bruise on my arm.