Page 83 of Bad Habit
“I tried to pretend…” He drew a breath so long and deep that my body rose several inches along with his chest.
“It doesn’t seem possible. Not so fast.” His fingers trailed deliciously up and down my spine. “I’m so wrong for you.”
“You’re not.” I lifted my head and he kissed me, his lips gently tasting mine as our hands caressed each other’s bodies like they had a plan to explore and comfort at the same time. I shifted on his lap to improve my kissing angle and realized his penis was still erect, pressed against my hip.
My insides pulsed with need. I felt different down there—sore—but still longing, still aching for him, and my nipples were tender against his chest.
“Let’s go to bed,” I said softly.
Lifting me in his arms, he rose and carried me into the bedroom. The bed was turned down, and he threw the covers farther back with one strong arm and laid me down, moving to the other side to join me.
“You’re too far away.” I slid over.
We met in the middle, wrapping into each other’s arms and staring into each other’s eyes.
“Your plan failed, Cormac Downey. I still love you. Even more if that’s possible.”
He drew a long breath. “I’m not worthy of your love, but I’m grateful.”
Grateful that I loved him? Or that I let him take me the way he wanted? That I didn’t hate him for doing it? My insides still buzzed and ached with the memory of what we’d done, what he’d done to me.
“What are you grateful for?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Grateful for you. That you came into my life.” He ran his thumb over my cheek. “That first day, when I first saw you on that basketball court, I never imagined…”
“If the topic is basketball, I’m the one who’s grateful. Those kids were dangerously close to full-fledged rebellion when you showed up. If you hadn’t helped me—”
“That,” he interrupted, “and everything that’s come after, was my pleasure.”
“Speaking of pleasure.” I reached between us to take his still hard penis into my hand. “Need some help with this?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want you inside me again.” I couldn’t believe the boldness of my words, but I meant them.
His eyes darkened, and he pulled in a sharp breath. “You sure? You’re not too sore?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
He turned to the bedside table to get a condom. “Tell me if it hurts,” he said softly. “Promise.”
I nodded. “I trust you.”
“After what I just did?” His voice broke, and he blinked a few times.
“You know…” I bit my lower lip. “I didn’t dislike that. Not entirely.”
Condom placed, he tipped his head to the side and looked at me questioningly.
“I missed seeing your face and the connection between us while we were making love, but it felt… it felt good, right up until it didn’t.” My insides clenched as if my body was trying to relive the act.
“Really?” His hand dipped down between us, parting my legs and stroking gently through my still wet folds.
“I don’t lie.” I sucked a sharp breath as his finger flicked over my clit, so sensitive I could barely stand the pressure. “Oh, that… Oh.”
“Like that?” His voice deepened as he rubbed harder.
“It’s…” I squirmed. “It’s too much right now.”
