Page 86 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, shifting his weight onto his arms.

I shake my head and let the quiet whispers of our breathing fill the silence for a moment or two.

“Alec…?”

“Hmm?”

“It…it feels good. You on top of me.”

He lets out a long breath, a hint of a smile setting on his kissed lips. “You remember?” he asks, smoothing a piece of hair off my cheek.

“Yes.” I drop my eyes from his gaze in a moment of uncertainty. “And no.”

“You were very drunk that night.”

Something pricks at the back of my eyes, and I blink furiously to ease the discomfort. I got a redo for that kiss—a spectacular redo—but what of the rest of it? What about the things I don’t remember, or that are fuzzy? He was in love with me then. How could I do that to him? My hands grip his skin and I can’t imagine him drunk right now. Alec wouldn’t do that to me if I’d said I loved him and he didn’t feel the same. He wouldn’t give me a drunken night. He wouldn’t dangle himself in front of me. And all the pain and heartache I may have caused smack into me hard, making it difficult to breathe.

“How…how do you not hate me?” I ask, the first traitorous tear rolling down my temple and into my tangled mess of hair. “To pull you this close, only to push you away?” I sigh, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, begging them to keep the rest of the tears locked behind the lids. That night was so long ago, it seems, but in a way it was just yesterday. I should’ve known then that he was better for me than anyone else, that he’s the one I’m in love with. How could I kiss him, pressure him, even though I was drunk as a skunk, when I had no intention of staying with him after? I feel rotten to my very core, and I press my palms even farther into my eyes, causing a dull ache in my head.

“Theresa,” he says, pulling on my elbow until I drop my hands. He cups my face, resting his forehead against mine, noses touching, and lips barely a centimeter apart. I watch his eyes, only his eyes, not being able to make out much else due to our proximity, but also not wanting to look anywhere else.

“I tried to hate you. I tried to turn off those feelings or turn them into something else. It wasimpossiblewith you.” His grip tightens, causing my neck to tilt back a little. “No matter what you’ve done, or what you do now, I willnothate you. I don’t have that in me.”

He presses his lips to mine so forcefully that I can’t speak. After the first second, I don’twantto talk. I don’t even want to breathe. I just want to be sucked into him and stay there for the rest of my days. I want to crawl into his skin and set up camp. This kiss won’t ever end if I have any say in the matter, and my body is his, every single part of it.

I shift underneath him, gripping his hard length before moving aside my thong. Our lips don’t break even for a split second as he pushes his way inside me without any apprehension.

Dear God, it feels like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I can only think in clichés—no one can hold a candle to him, words cannot adequately describe the pure amount of joy I’m in, he has completely shaken my world. As swept away as I am, I’m equally terrified that this amount of pleasure is only given to a person in small, cruel doses, and that it will end as soon as it has begun.

His mouth pops from mine, only to let out a throaty expletive against my kiss-swollen lips. Hearing the naughty word wets my already primed sex, and his pupils dilate as he slides with more ease in and out of me. He repeats it in another guttural and possessive groan as he thrusts, the same curse after curse, and I soon find myself moaning in tune with him, like we’re creating our own X-rated musical. I can feel the rise of pleasure happening so quickly inside me that I’m afraid a premature orgasm will halt what is the most intimate and joyous moment of my life thus far, but it doesn’t stop me from begging him forfaster, faster, more, more,until I’m arched back in blissful languor, not knowing who I am or what I am, only that this man, my best friend, has brought me to the brink of heaven, and I don’t know when I will fall back down to where I was before now.

The pleasure is so strong that I feel pressure building behind my eyes, wave after wave rocking so much in me—waves I’ve never felt before even with the most experienced of partners. I’m gripping his arms, latched tight around his hips, meeting him thrust after thrust, and never wanting it to end, but knowing that pleasure this powerful is bound to make a person combust.

His green eyes meet mine once more, making the pleasure I’m experiencing double in intensity, before we both slam our eyes shut and let out one final synchronized groan. The moment I fall back into my body, tears rain down my cheeks. My breath hitches hard, and I gasp, trying to get air, trying to figure out why I’m crying so hard when I’ve never been so happy.

Alec’s fast and warm breath washes over my face, rippling the sweat and tears lingering on my skin. He lies still as I feel him slowly soften inside me. His lips press light kisses to my nose, my cheeks, my chin, not asking why I’m crying so hysterically. Maybe he’s used to bringing women to tears from the pure pleasure of his lovemaking, but I’m sure not used to it. I’ve never reacted this way before. I can’t explain it either, because I’m not sad. It was just…it was just…everything.

He goes to roll off me, but I tighten my grip on his arms, shaking my head. He lets out a breathy laugh, and my bottom lip juts out a little as he leaves me completely.

“I’ll clean us up,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. The few seconds he’s gone in the bathroom gives me the time to calm myself. I place a hand over my heart and smile as it goes from a rapidpitterpatterpitterpatterto a slowpit-pat.Alec comes back with a washcloth and takes care of us both. This is also a first for me; usually there is a condom in play, and I realize with an ounce of dread that neither of us had protection. I’m on the pill, and I’ve been tested, but I have no idea of his sexual history in the medical sense.

The mattress dips as he rolls back on next to me. I curl into his chest, running my fingers over the muscles I will have to appreciate more next time.

“I’m clean,” I tell him. “Probably should’ve said that before.”

He silently laughs against me. “Ditto.”

“Also on the pill.”

I feel him nod against my hair. “Good. I’m sorry; I didn’t think—”

“I didn’t either.”

He’s quiet, and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. I’m sure drifting off, and in the very sleepy edges of my mind, I think I catch him whispering something to me. Something that sounds like “I love you,” but it very well could be a dream.

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