Page 145 of Under the Lies

He did and that’s what he’s done, but as I stare at him, I know one person he can’t protect me from.

Himself.

His hands skim down my body. “You’re mine.”

Noah lowers my body back on the mattress, covering mine with his. I focus on the way Noah’s mouth moves against my throat and down my chest, between the valley of my breasts.

His touch breathes new life into me, and I give myself over to him, letting him coax and fill me, making me whole.

“Make me forget.”

“Forget what?” He pulls one of my taut nipples between his teeth.

“Everything.”

His wicked smile feels like a brand on my skin, skating down my body as he makes good on my request, making me forget everything outside this room.

Everything except him.

And his tongue and fingers, working me over.

Right now, there’s nothing more I want.

Noah spreads my legs with his thighs, fitting himself between them. His touch feather light and wrong. Like I’m a fragile doll with too many cracks.

No.

I don’t want soft.

I want him. How rough he always is.

He’s never treated me like I’m a fragile doll before and I don’t want him to start now.

“Touch me like you mean it.” I lock my legs around his waist. “I’m not going to break, Noah.”

I back my words with a challenge, a dare I know he won’t be able to resist. And he doesn’t disappoint as he pins my hands into my mattress. Restraining my touch.

“Is that right?”

My chin jerks, letting him see the heat in my eyes.

“Just remember,” he warns as an immoral grin overtakes his face, and he’s thrusting into me hard and fast enough for my vision to waver. “You asked for this.”

He pulls all the way out only to ram back inside.

A sound I’ve never heard passes my lips.

He does it again.

Ooooh, God. Yes, yes. More, more.

He rolls his hips into mine, over and over again. Shaking the mattress, my breasts, my everything.

He has my hips pinned to the bed, keeping my withering body at his mercy while his mouth sucks at my neck, the peaks of my breasts.

Our hips move at a frantic, unrhythmic pace. Our lips crash together in the need for more.

We don’t talk. Gone is the teasing. We’re moving too fast, too hard. Only cries and pants and grunts leave our mouths, but Noah moves his body like a message. Words he can’t get out to say.

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