Page 95 of Phantom Faceoff
Let me in, it says, and I want to. I really fucking want to.
We break apart, and I look into those deeply caring hazel eyes.
“I love you,” I say, needing this swell of emotion to exist outside of the confines of my chest.
He doesn’t say anything, and I wonder if this is a mistake.
You found me,I want to say, but I won’t give up more than one confession without reciprocation. If my heart is going to take damage, the least I can do is keep enough for myself to heal and rebuild.
“Say something.” It comes out as a whispered plea, and I hate being this battered. Having so much of me exposed.
“I’m trying …” He says it soft and slow, his thumb drawing circles on my cheek. “I’ve never felt like this before.”
“It’s scary.”
“Can I just kiss you? Can that be enough for now?”
I expect the non-confession to hurt, but it doesn’t. It’s like a weight falls off my chest.
I don’t need him to make any declarations or to have his feelings pinned down the way mine came at me like a speeding train.
So I lean into him again, sighing into his mouth as it crashes on top of mine, as his fingers sink into my hair.
He rolls on top of me, the softness of the kiss beginning to flame.
His body blankets mine, thighs squeezing my hips, and growing erection jutting into my stomach.
Our hands wander to every inch of skin, and when we run out, we slip our fingers beneath each other’s boxers and rid one another of those as well.
We’re both hard and leaking but don’t focus on cocks. He kneads my balls between his thick fingers. I slip between his cheeks to stroke his hole.
Eventually, the arousal becomes too hard to ignore.
Zander tugs my hair to force us apart and squeezes his thighs around me. We’re both catching our breath, and I can see the desire in his eyes that matches mine.
“Need you, Wildfire.”
His eyes flash with concern. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I say, though his pinched brow says he’s skeptical. “I don’t want it rough. I want it slow. Sensual. I want you, Zander Hale, inside me. Remind me that I’m yours.”
The last thing I expect is to see tears drip from Zander’s lashes, for him to clasp my face in his hands and kiss me like it’s our first all over again. It’s so tender my own eyes grow wet.
“I can show you how I feel,” he says, lips still resting on mine. “I can do that for you.”
And then his hands are on my body, hiking my hips and rutting his hard, pulsing cock against the cleft of my ass.
He fumbles for my lube on the dresser, refusing to leave my mouth, and he makes a mess of us both as he coats his fingers with it.
One by one they push inside me, stretching me wide until it feels like I might split in half. I can remember the feel of his cock out in the woods. The way he sunk inside and treated me like something he owned, not a body he was experiencing for the first time.
His fingers slip free, and his tongue retreats from my mouth, pulling back just enough to stare down at me.
To make sure I’m okay.
There’s a hint of panic seeded in the heat that roars to life beneath my skin at his scorching gaze. It sprouts in the breath of silence—of appreciation—but as soon as his hands move on me again, it’s decimated among the flames.
They grip my thighs and spread them apart. They push on my chest, dig into the spacing of my ribs.
