Page 74 of Wrecked
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed into him. “I’m okay now. It’s all over.”
He shook his head, expression fierce. “I can’t lose you, Piper. I can’t ever lose you.”
Jesus, he was killing her, the pain in his voice, the undisguised emotion shining from his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
He came in close, his mouth only an inch away, forehead resting against hers. “I’ve waited so long for you.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes, and she bit her lip.
“I need you.”
“You have me,” she whispered back.
He kissed her fiercely, hands moving over her body, tearing at her clothes. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”
His gruff voice sent delicious tingles across her flesh, made her burn for him.
When he had her naked, he backed her toward the bed. “Lay down, baby.”
She scooted up the mattress and rested on her elbows, watching as he stripped. He stood at the foot of the bed, his beautiful, scarred body completely bare—and to her, utterly perfect. Climbing onto the bed, he moved over her, and she dropped her head back to the pillow. He rested on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms circling his neck. He stared down at her for the longest time, not moving, just tracing every inch of her face with his intense gaze. His hands were in her hair on either side of her head, and she could feel him rubbing the strands between his fingers. “So beautiful.” He kissed her lightly, almost reverently. “Mine.”
“Yours,” she whispered back.
Then, without another word, he tilted his hips and pushed inside her, filling her in one smooth thrust of his hips. She gasped, neck arching, arms tightening around his shoulders, muscles clamping helplessly around his heavy cock. He moved on top of her, eyes never leaving her face. His expression told her again without words that she was his, that he was never letting her go. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
His body rolled against hers, faster, harder. Oh God. She moaned, their breath mingling together. Perfect. So good. His hips kept her thighs spread wide, opening her up, exposing her clit to his thrusting cock, each glide taking her closer to release. “Cole,” she whimpered.
“That’s it. Let me feel it.”
One of his hands skimmed down her side, grabbing her ass. He tilted her hips, sliding deep, grinding his hips into hers. She gasped his name, and a second later she cried out, screaming it over and over.
He continued to move on top of her, and she forced her eyes open to watch him. He lifted to his knees, hands sliding to the back of hers so he could hold her legs up and open. His gaze drifted down between her thighs, watching the way he filled her. His nostrils flared before his eyes came back to hers. Then, taking one of her hands, he brought it down between her legs. She could feel him sliding in and out of her body.
She moaned, still sensitive, but with his eyes on her, the feel of his cock sliding through her fingers each time he pushed inside, she was already building a second orgasm. He moved her hand up a little, so her fingers were sliding over her clit with every thrust, and her inner muscles clenched and spasmed.
“Cole...” He applied more pressure, and she moaned, straining and gasping as she came a second time.
“Fuck, baby.” He took her wrists and lifted her hands above her head, and slammed up into her wildly, once, twice, and shot hot and hard inside her. He collapsed, his face buried against her neck, groaning her name the whole time. He shook from the force of his release, and she wrapped her arms around him, closing her eyes and cradling him with her body while he came down.
That was how they fell asleep.
When she woke again, the sun was shining through the curtains.
Cole rolled her to her back, lifted up, and stared at her, a grin tugging the corner of his mouth. “You’re mine.”
She grinned back. “So I hear.” Then the question rose that had been in the back of her mind for the longest time, especially since the night he stormed into her bathroom and changed everything between them. She traced his dark brow, his scar, across his lower lip, then met his gaze. “I waited, you know. Every night for a week, I waited for you to come to me, or at least to acknowledge the message I left that night I drunk-dialed you. You never did. I’m not trying to give you a hard time, I just want to know, why didn’t you at least call?”
She watched the smile slip from his face. Goddammit. Why had she brought it up? His reasons for ignoring her call were obvious. He’d been grieving, dealing with so much. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked. That was selfish of me.”
He closed his eyes and stayed like that for several seconds. “That call was for me?” he rasped.
She frowned. “Who else would it be for?”
“I thought…” He buried his face against her throat. “I thought you called me by mistake.” He lifted up and stared down at her. “I tortured myself thinking about the asshole that call was meant for. Was fucking thrilled he never got it.”
She shook her head. “Oh, he got it all right.”
“Jesus.” Then he smiled, full-on, wide enough it reached his eyes and lit up his face. The sight made her belly flip. “It was meant for me, huh? You were out with your girls, drunk and turned on, and it was me you thought of?”
