Page 54 of Desperate People

It’s like everything I ever wanted to hear.

I yank the shirt over my head, toss it somewhere—I don’t care where—and her hands are on my chest immediately, nails raking down as if she needs to claim me.

My mouth finds hers again, hungrier this time. Less restraint.

No more pretending. No more holding back.

We fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and heat and breathless curses.

Her legs wrap around my hips, pulling me in closer.

Closer than I deserve.

Her wet pussy presses against my stomach, heated desire spilling onto me, and I shake.

I fucking shake.

I want this woman more than I want my next breath, and still?—

Still I hesitate.

Just for a second.

Because all my life, I’ve been on the outside looking in.

Fucked-up. Forgotten. Left behind.

But this woman.

This moment.

She’s mine.

And if we do this? If I fuck her tonight?

I’m not walking away.

Even if I should.

Even if it breaks the world in half.

“We should wait,” I tell her, my voice rough, strained, like it hurts to say the words.

She’s sprawled beneath me, eyes dark and glassy with heat, lips kiss-swollen, breath coming fast.

My heart pounds beneath my ribcage. Like the damn thing is trying to break through my body.

She’s never looked more beautiful—or more breakable.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight.”

She lifts herself up on her elbows, the oversized shirt riding up to bare her thighs again.

That glittery skin, that body I’ve memorized with my eyes and hands and mouth in the last ten minutes.

“That’s why I don’t want to wait,” she says, voice low but certain. “I don’t want to have regrets, Balor.”

Those sapphire eyes lock with mine.

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