Virtuous(71)

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to poke at something painful.”

“You’re not. It’s a fair question.”

He raises his hand to my face before he kisses me. “You’re not alone anymore, Natalie. I hope you know that.”

“I do, and it helps. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, sweet girl. Being with you makes me so happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“I still can’t believe you feel that way about me.”

“Believe it. It gets stronger every day.” He kisses me again, more intently this time, and I open my lips to his tongue. His kisses strip me bare and leave me reeling from the powerful punch of desire I experience every time.

Flynn breaks the kiss suddenly. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t mean to get so carried away again.”

“I like when you get carried away.”

“Natalie…” He groans. “You’re killing me. You know that, don’t you?”

“I wish I could be like other women and give you what you want, but—”

His finger over my lips stops me. “Please don’t ever say that. You’re perfect just the way you are, and I don’t want you to be like anyone else. Close your eyes and relax. I’ve got you, and everything is okay.”

He will never know how much it means to me to hear him say that, how long I’ve yearned for someone to tell me everything is okay. Despite the steady thrum of desire zipping through my veins, I find myself drifting into sleep.





Chapter 14





I’m wound so tightly I fear I will break in half if I so much as move. Holding Natalie in my arms as she sleeps is both heaven and hell at the same time. I want her so badly, but not just physically. I want to possess her heart and soul. I want to share her life and her passion. I want it all with her, which is why I forced myself to end a kiss that was spiraling out of control.

I know how much courage it took for her to tell me she wanted to sleep with me. I don’t want to take advantage of her close proximity by pushing her for things she’s told me she’s not ready to do.

I’m restless, and the desire-driven tension that grips my body has me buzzing like I’ve ingested a week’s worth of caffeine. With Natalie warm and soft in my arms, my thoughts are free to roam. The last time I attempted a relationship similar to what’s happening with Natalie was with my ex-wife, Valerie. We’d been married two years before I let her see the full extent of my sexual desires. I was unable to deny that part of myself any longer. When I told her what I wanted—what I really wanted—she was horrified and said I was depraved. Shortly afterward, she arranged for me to catch her having sex with another man, which was her way of telling me we were done.

Our marriage was a disaster in more ways than one, which is why I publicly stated I’d never marry again. Despite the intense feelings I already have for Natalie, I still believe I’m better off not being married. What would sweet, lovely, wounded Natalie think if I told her I want to tie her up, clamp her nipples, spank her sweet ass, and then watch her take a thick plug there. I want to f*ck her senseless and watch her suck my dick while I flog her.

Yeah, I can only imagine how that conversation would go. Frustrated and turned on thanks to the direction my thoughts have taken, I drag a hand through my hair. Hayden is right about me. When I try to deny who and what I am, it usually goes bad for me and the women who have the misfortune to get involved with me. The majority of them never knew why I wasn’t satisfied by what we did together, just that it was over between us.

Even knowing why it’s a bad idea to let this continue, I already can’t imagine a day without Natalie in it. I try to picture telling her, after everything we’ve already shared, that I’ve changed my mind, that I’ve decided we aren’t compatible after all. Those words would hurt her, perhaps so deeply she’d never take a chance with a man again. The thought of that hurts me.

I’m a f*cking heartless bastard because I know I’ll never let her go, despite all the reasons why I should.

I fight off the sleep that would claim me because I don’t want to miss a second of the sweet pleasure of holding her while she sleeps. When I can’t fight it any longer, I drift into uneasy rest, filled with dreams of me chasing after something I can’t have. Every time I get close, it slips away again. I can’t see or touch what I’m after, but I can feel it so intensely, I wonder how I can breathe through the painful surge of desire.