Page 113 of This Could Be Us

“Sorry,” he mutters into my neck. “It’s tight.”

I freeze. Edward’s taunting words walk the corridors of my mind, blow through the chambers of my heart.

Things get loose down there.

“What did you say?” I ask, breathing through the discomfort and the shock of pleasure that is not only physical but the bliss of healing.

“It’s just a little tight.” He raises his head to look at me, concern in his eyes. “You okay? Do we need to—”

“Don’t stop.” I explore his back with wandering hands, roam down to the firm curve of his ass, and press him deeper into me. “It feels good.”

He drops his head again, burying it in the curve of my neck, dipping and taking a nipple into the seeking heat of his mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I want to fuck you hard, Sol.”

An electric shock zips up my spine, and I tighten my legs around him.

“As hard as you want,” I whisper into his ear, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to brace myself. “I can take it.”

Bold words because this man tests me, hooking an elbow under my knee and sliding in by slow inches, blunt, hard, heavy. The impact whooshes air from my lungs. He doesn’t pause but finds a spot I didn’t know existed and strokes it over and over and over. He never breaks pace, never loses momentum, never lets up.

“This pussy is so good, Sol,” he groans, flipping me over to my hands and knees, knocking my legs apart. He wraps the length of my hair around one hand and grips my hip with the other, anchoring me in place before he drives back in. “You okay?”

Okay?

Is that weak word supposed to describe how it feels to receive the unrelenting, pounding worship of a man twice my size, but who makes me feel absolutely in charge one second and then completely subbed, bottomed out the next? He puts me how he wants me, turning me onto my side, lifting my leg and taking me with my knee resting on his.

I have no idea how long it goes, but I know I’ve never been fucked like this. We are soaked with each other’s sweat, and my legs are shaking by the time he flips me to my back again, pulls my legs flat against his chest, ankles on his shoulders, and pushes into me.

“I want to see your face,” he says, a gentle hand coaxing my damp hair back. He reaches between us and strokes me, slowly at first, then quickening the pace as my expression crumples with new pleasure. Inthis position, the penetration is so deep, I come with a crash, screaming so loud I feel the veins straining in my neck.

“Sol!” My name is torn from him, and he stills, trembling over me, his eyes clenched shut, his powerful body taut and somehow vulnerable even in its strength.

I know we’ve both been married before. This wasn’t the first time for either of us, but something broke through inside me, and I think in him too. The clues are in the kisses he drops into my hair. The soft words of praise he leaves along my collarbone, the undersides of my breasts, my rib cage, like even though we are done, he can’t stop loving on me. He looks into my eyes and I can’t help but think he feels it too. It’s a shoot bursting through fallow ground, and as I fall asleep in the cradle of his strong arms, I recognize that it may have just begun to grow, and it may still be tender, but it’s already fierce.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

JUDAH

Iknow I have to let her go, but dammit, how?

Not just let Soledad leave my house. Of course she has to return to her girls. Aaron will probably only last another night at Tremaine’s before he packs his bag and stands at the door. He’s been known to sit in the back seat of the car, waiting for them to bring him home. So I have to get back to my life, to my responsibilities, to my boys too. I don’t mean how will I let her leave tonight, but what will I do if this is it? She said one night.

The hell.

One night? With her? Impossible. But I don’t know how to ask for more without derailing what she’s trying to do for herself now. I don’t want her self-partnering anymore.Iwant to be her partner. I want to be the one she leans on and for her to be whom I lean on in return. I want us to sort the tangled fibers of our lives, to knock down the barriers to being together. I want her to be whole.

I just want to be whole with her.

How do you fix something that doesn’t feel broken? Because her in my bed, naked, with her hair flowing all over my pillow, feels right. And however I can have this, I will. I already know I’ll take this however I can get it. However she will give it.

It’s getting late, and a sense of unease starts to creep in. I should wake her. Her kids are fine at home by themselves. She said they stay home alone often, but still. It’s been a rough day for them. Seeing theirdad in prison has to have been hard. I glance at my watch on the nightstand. This woman tipped my whole world on its axis, and she has been here less than two hours.

“Maybe she can stay a little longer,” I mumble, sliding back under the covers and reaching for her. She’s petite… but the ass, the hips, the legs—perfectly thick. The sheet falls away, and I caress the velvety mole in the center of her spine, like a drop of midnight on a gold shore of smooth back and shoulders.

“Damn,” I groan into her neck, unable to resist rolling her over, kissing down between her breasts and taking one berry-colored tip into my mouth. “Shit.”

“You’re a very profane lover,” Soledad grumbles, gripping both sides of my head and running her hand over my face. “But I like it.”

“You do?” I release her breast with a pop, grinning up at her. “So you’ll keep me?”

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