Page 22 of Second Goal

“Yeah.” I shake my head, wondering if it wouldn’t have been better for all of us if he’d left her. Because emotionally, he checked out even though physically he’d still been there.

“Why would your mom keep it from you?”

“I think in her mind she was protecting us. Or maybe she couldn’t accept that there was something not perfect in her life. I really don’t know.”

Silence stretches between us.

“It’s one of the reasons why I hate secrets so much. If I’d known...”

“You couldn’t have saved her, Blake.”

“I know. But I could have said goodbye.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Dad died six years ago. Heart attack. And my mom...” I sigh. “She’s still living herperfectlife, self medicating with gin and Valium. She travels a lot now with a few friends who are also widows. I don’t see her much, but I think she prefers it that way.”

“I’m sorry.” Her fingers play with the hair at the nape of my neck.

I rest my forehead against hers. “Now you know all my damage.”

“None of it’s your fault.”

I cup her jaw, tilting her face toward mine. “Your past isn’t your fault either.”

A tremor rolls through her and she starts to pull away. “You don’t know the things I’ve done.”

“You were a kid trying to survive. Whatever you did, it doesn’t have to define you now.”

She gives me a tight smile. “Maybe.”

In that one word, I hear the hope she’s always so desperately trying to shove down.

I shift, rolling us over and pressing her back against the mattress.

She’s naked beneath me, and even though I told her I wanted to take it slow last night, my cock has other plans right now.

Secrets, my head warns.Lies.You can’t trust her. She’ll break you. And this time you won’t recover.

But in this moment, I know it doesn’t matter what she’s hiding. Even if it’ll destroy us both. There’s no walking away from her. I might not believe in the whole love-thing, or perfect families, and promises of forever. But there’s no denying the intense need to be with her, to protect her.

And that need, to protect her, is almost as fierce as the need to consume her.

I kiss her, hard, and her arms wrap around my neck, thighs spreading as I wedge myself between them. Her hips arch and she squirms beneath me, her pussy already wet, nipples hard and tight when I run my fingers over them.

She whimpers when I rub against her opening, parting the sensitive flesh, and slipping one finger inside. I stroke and rub, penetrating just enough to make her cry out for more. When I sink a second finger inside her, she whimpers my name, “Blake.”

She’s so damn tight. My fingers stretch the heated walls of her pussy, her juices soaking me as her hips jerk, trying to force me deeper. I stroke her clit with an intensity that has her whole body trembling, and a wail of pleasure tearing from her throat.

Her pussy spasms around my fingers and I slow my strokes as the waves of her orgasm wash over her.

“Stop teasing me,” she whimpers when I kiss her, my fingers still inside her.

I chuckle. “You seemed to enjoy my teasing.”

“I did. But I want you inside me.”

I groan. “Don’t have protection.” And as much as my cock aches to be inside her, putting a baby in her belly is the last complication either of us needs right now. Even if the thought isn’t as terrifying as it should be. “And you’re not on birth control.”

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