Page 41 of Vow to Protect
His hungry lips don’t search for tenderness. They take and take, pouring lust into every cell of my body. He groans when I push into him, feeling the kiss turn to a violent exchange. It’s not purely a kiss. It's a man giving himself permission to let go and a woman allowing herself to hold on.
Urgency scorches between us with an intensity close to insanity. My senses react when his control flicks to ruthless ruts and firm fingertips claim his desire. It feels like every piece of this man is imprinting my soul.
I’ve never connected with anyone on this level before. Not ever. We’re joined both physically and spiritually. Whether I understand the magnitude of this act is unknown. Right now, being owned by him is my salvation. I don't care about the consequences.
Something is better than nothing.
He buries his face into the crook of my neck and growls with such a primitive authority. Fingernails claw at his back, and my legs constrict when everything inside me explodes. The climax races through my veins, pumps into my heart and rockets over every millimeter of skin.
His body shakes, jerks and tenses. The godly roar at his release fills me with fear and power. I’m terrified at the thought of saying goodbye and alive in the knowledge he wanted me.
Breathing hard, a gentle kiss consumes me with a depth of meaning. My nuclei raise the first warning as my soul glows under the spell of our intense union. Then my brain rings with caution when my heart declares a notion of adoration. As the cupidity ebbs and our lips all but cling, Brett heaves me up and carries me to the bed.
“You’re both a distraction and a reaction. It’s been a long time.” He covers us with a sheet. “I haven’t had sex with anyone since…”
“What were you waiting for?” I roll into him, stroking my nails over his thundering heart.
“Isn’t that obvious?” He shifts, gluing me tighter to his side. “I was waiting for you.”
My eyes squeeze shut. His confession is welcomed, but at the wrong time in my life. I want to belong to Brett De Courcy.
I promisedmyself I wouldn't lay a finger on her again. That was a disingenuous oath. I’m a traitor, or a slave to the bomb of pure lust. How unfortunate for me, those wild forest eyes unmasked my lies with one all seeing glance.
Did I plan a visit to her apartment? Not until I rode the elevator. Did I expect to find her half naked—fuck yes. Why? Because I only gave her one outfit, and I knew it was soiled in sugar and icing. Which meant she’d either sleep naked or wear the only clean garment she had left.
In truth, I didn’t want Tilly to wake up and stumble across her father's grisly face. There’s no doubt she’d be terrified and upset. I’d hate myself for inflicting unnecessary fear in her innocent, tiny heart. In the light of day, I shouldn't have gone to Scrios for that very reason alone. The other is Zatruc. I’ll shoot the fucker dead if he comes anywhere near my family.
What I hadn’t planned for was my reaction to her hot bare flesh bathed in silver moonlight like a goddess, or how a halo of turbulence lit up her eyes as if our world was on fire.
In that brush of insanity, I learned that I have zero resistance where Raen is concerned. I gave her permission to patch up my cut, rub down my chest with lotion and slay the demons frosting my forbidden desires. As hard as I tried, stopping those seductive strokes was impossible. The notion to slam her back into the mattress came and went in waves, leaving a freedom to succumb to pleasure. I lay back and indulged, carried away in the sensation of gentle flesh, soothing and gloriously intimate. No amount of physical pain would overhaul the prickles and intensity. I could have run away, if my legs would have allowed me, but right then, captured under her spell, I didn't want to.
Had it not been for the pills Malakai gave me, I would have taken her to hell and back. To my hell.
With Syrah, everything was easy. The sex was off the charts. We had fun. She was innocent and beautiful. It felt fucking right. The heavens sent me an angel to love, then decided she was too good for me and stole her back.
Whereas Raen’s spirit is tarred with vindication. There’s no joy to be found in our insane attraction. She’ll escape Dublin, and our crossed paths will be doused in gasoline and torched. This woman is another temporary addition to my life. I would be an idiot to welcome her into my heart. Her imminent departure is soaring through the air like a right hook and an underhand belly jab.
Heaven is close, but hell is even closer.
I’ve caught sight of her vexed soul, and it fucking scares me. We are both defected. Her sorrow replicates mine. Her mulish determination clones my own. Her fight to survive demolishes my boundaries.
Screwing her was a bad idea, and the most satisfying mistake I’ve ever made. “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” I ask, loving the goosebumps racing down her spine as my nails dance over the curve of her tight ass.
She purrs, bumping her pelvis into my hip. “I loved living in Barcelona, but I can’t go back there now.” Her shoulder bounces once. “Maybe Bali or India.”
“That’s too far away.” Probably for the best.
“I don’t know.” Her shoulders jostle. “Being locked up with grey skies as my muse makes me crave the sun even more. It will have to be somewhere with long sandy beaches, blue skies and a fresh balmy sea breeze. What about you?” My heart bucks in warning when her chin rolls to rest on my pec. The enticing pressure blends with the soft pants leaving her nostrils. Peaceful contentment seeps into my muscles, gifted by a fleshy feminine form. My awareness howls of danger. Anarchy rips through my willpower. I’ve missed this sense of togetherness.
A vision of Tilly’s smiley face appears as my anchor, pulling me to shore when Raen walks her nails over my ribs. Suddenly I’m nervous, unsettled by the combination—the way her gentle stimulation quietens my racing mind and my daughter's lips curl with happiness. It’s like a prophecy of our life to come.
My reckless decision to permit touch will undoubtedly be my destruction. The devil must really hate me.
“My life is here. Tilly is settled in school.” I point out, stretching out my neck. “She needs stability, now more than ever.”
“I wish my father had cared about us like you do for Tilly. He struggled to hold down a job for years, then one day he became a lorry driver, and took off for weeks at a time. We didn’t see him much after that.” Soft strokes feather my forearm, so the hairs lift. A shiver explodes over my scalp, and my dick swells. “Tell me about her.” She props up on one elbow, waiting.
Where do I start? She's my hope in the hopeless. “She’s the best thing about my life,” I say simply and honestly. “Wise beyond her years, caring and creative. You should see the cute pictures she draws.” I sigh out a low chuckle and acknowledge my grin with a swipe of a thumb.
