Page 67 of I Can't Even

“Done. Over. History,” he said.

“Oh.” I had a million questions but sensed, as he shifted against me and I got distracted, that this was not the time. Still, shouldn’t I find out what happened? What if, oh horror, she broke up with him and he was on the rebound and I was just his transition woman?

He stared at me and then nudged me, again, with a not-so-subtle thrust of his hips which got my attention back where it belonged. Transition smansition. It was details, who needed details? I blinked and nodded my head.

“A thing then, definitely, a thing,” I said. I grinned at him, and he blinked in return.

“Thank fuck!” he muttered right before he pulled me up tight against him and kissed me.

The kiss was tender and fierce, and we clung to each other which made his attempt to put on a condom a bit tricky, but once he was ready, I grabbed him by the hips and pulled him in. No hesitation. No waiting. I wanted him to belong to me completely.

We both gasped as he entered. He was hard and I was wet, but the fit was tight and the friction intense. As my body relaxed around his to let him in and then clenched to pull him in even deeper, I glanced up at his face and saw such tenderness that my throat burned and tears stung my eyes.

How had I walked away from this man all those years ago? How much time had we lost that could have been ours? Regret made me hug him close. He was mine right now and I had no plan to let him go ever again.

“Hey, new boy.” My voice was just a whisper, but I had to tell him. I had to say it.

“What is it, surfer girl?” He leaned in close and kissed me quick and then put his ear near my lips as if he knew I could barely get the words out.

My lips brushed his ear, causing him to shiver, as I said, “I am so sorry that I left you, so very sorry.”

The tears that had been threatening spilled now. He pulled back and followed their trails with his lips, catching them on the tip of my chin before putting his mouth back to mine in a kiss that tasted of tears.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Our gazes met in perfect understanding. We had a choice to let the past destroy the present or to move on from it. There was much more to be said, we both knew it, but for now, right in this moment, we understood each other, and we were okay.

He began to move, slow at first as if he was determined to savor every second of our coming together. I matched him, moving with him, wanting the same but it wasn’t long before my desire to feel wholly consumed by him overrode the savoring.

I twisted up in his arms, forcing him back until I was on top, and Liam was reclined across the bed. I loved having him laid out before me; I straddled him and splayed my hands on his chest like a kitten kneading a blanket. The muscles in his arms bunched, his thick brown hair was mussed, and the look on his face was one of awe mixed with scorching desire—for me! He was simply glorious.

I started to control the rhythm, going faster and deeper. He gripped my hips in his hands and slowed me down when I would have sent us both, okay, mostly me, right over the finish line. I was no match for his upper body strength so when he caught me and held me up, not allowing me to move, I realized any control I thought I had was just an illusion.

This was clearly Liam’s show, and I was merely a player. His eyes were half closed as he glanced up at me and slowly moved his hips up, not allowing me to grind down. I could feel my nostrils flare and his wicked grin returned. I was beginning to think the man was a sadist.

He watched me as he moved, no doubt noticing how I tried to break his hold. It occurred to me that much like the waves we liked to play in, I would do better to go with the tide than against it, which was why when he went to slide back in, I moved in the same direction which took me away from him, thwarting him. When he moved, I moved. Two more times until he got it. Heat flashed in his eyes as he caught on pretty quick to my sexual shenanigans.

“You’re in trouble now!” With a laugh, he grabbed me around the middle and rolled until I was underneath him.

He lifted my legs up around his waist and this time there was no teasing. He pushed all the way in, deeper than I thought was possible, until I actually felt impaled by him. It was almost enough. Then he did it again, and it was enough.

The orgasm when it hit was one for the scrapbooks, you know, if one was to take pictures of this sort of life moment. Much like getting rolled by a wave, I felt completely disoriented; I didn’t know which way was up as my entire body convulsed in spasms of pleasure that made me cry his name even as he held me tight and rode out his own orgasm.

Spent, we stayed entwined waiting out the slowing of our heartbeats and allowing the sweat to dry on our bodies. It was the sweet surrender I had longed for the last time we were together, but I’d take it now. It had so been worth the wait.

Chapter Twenty-one

I dozed hard but my internal alarm clock woke me up on the darker side of dawn. The bedroom window was open, letting in the cold ocean air. It made me burrow down under the fluffy comforter and press up against the warmth that was at my back.

Judging by the hard length of the dude pressing between the backs of my thighs, I was not the only one awake. Ever accommodating, I lifted one thigh, giving the man better access. He moved my hair to kiss the nape of my neck, making it tricky for him to wrap his rascal before sliding into my wet heat.

We both gasped at the contact. He didn’t move, instead letting his fingers roam all over my curves as if enjoying having something to play with in the wee hours of the morning.

“Hey,” he whispered in my ear.

His voice was low and gritty, and it made me push my ass back against him. He caught my hips as if knowing that if I were given the chance, I would bang him right into unconsciousness. Here’s the great thing about a guy with early wood, they have like no control. I let him think he was steering the ship and then as soon as he relaxed against me, I started to move.

“Jules.” His voice had that delicious note of warning that I so loved to disregard.

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