Broken:Flirt New Adult Romance(36)

She leans forward and presses her lips to the hollow of my throat.

"I don't want there to be any line," she says, her breath warm against my skin. "Not tonight."





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Olivia


There's nothing gentle about Paul's touch, and I don't want there to be.  After months of fighting a fierce and uncontrollable need for this guy,  I want to give in to him.

I want to give in to us.

Half a second after I give him the green light he's kissing me again,  his hands moving to my waist and lifting me slightly. My legs wind  around his waist while he cups my hips, my ass, pulling us together  until I feel him hard against me through our jeans.

His lips pull at mine, and if our kiss minutes before was steamy, this  one could set us on fire. His military-short haircut is nothing to hold  on to, so I wrap my hands around the back of his neck, my fingers  digging into the soft skin there as I alternate between letting him  plunder and doing my own fierce exploring.

Paul roughly uses his chin to push my face to the side as his lips move  over my cheek and across my jaw, lingering on my earlobe, before he  devours my neck. His lips and teeth torture me until my hips rub against  his insistently, and it only takes a few more seconds before our  position against the bedroom door doesn't give either of us enough  access.

In three steps, he spins us around, moves toward the bed, and tosses me  onto my back. Some distant part of my brain registers that his  movements, with their determined authority, are not the hampered actions  of a man with an injured leg. This is a man who wants a woman. And this  woman definitely wants him back.

For a moment he looks down at me as I stare back up at him, both of us  breathing hard as we take in the sheer rightness of the moment. We move  at the same time then, him reaching down as I sit up, arms outstretched.

I didn't know it when I said it, but this is what I meant when I said  that I'd been looking for something when I kissed Michael. I wanted that  elusive yearning for another person. It's here. I yearn for Paul. Only  him.

My fingers go for the buttons of his shirt, tearing at them as his  fingers move through my hair, tugging my head back so he can watch as I  peel his shirt off, first one shoulder, than the other.

My eyes catch on a tattoo over his heart. I noticed the simple black  letters before, when we slept together, but I'm bolder now, and lean  forward to place my lips there.

"Semper fi?"

"Short for semper fidelis, ‘always faithful.' It's the Marine Corps motto."

I swallow. The sentiment is somehow haunting, but perhaps that's only because I know what being always faithful has cost him.

"Don't," he says, leaning down to brush his lips against my temple. "Don't go wherever your head's going."

His lips take mine again, and I can't think about anything about him and  the way that he tastes deliciously, perfectly like Paul.

When his hands drift down to the hem of my shirt, I lift my arms over my head.

I'm not what you'd call well endowed. I've always had more angles than  curves, and I'm kind of wishing I'd worn one of my push-up bras instead  of the pale pink demi cup.

But then Paul looks down at me. And he makes me feel beautiful.

He slowly drags his fingertips over my rib cage as I sit before him, his  eyes watching the movement of his hands. When his fingers reach the  bottom of my bra, his eyes flick to mine, and his gaze is dark and  smoky.         

     



 

I pull his head down to mine at the same time his hands close over my breasts, and we both moan.

He moves over me as I scoot back on the bed, and then I'm beneath him,  his body covering mine as his hands hold my head still for a deep,  demanding kiss. When his hands slide beneath my back, I arch up, giving  him access to the bra snap.

I let out a little laugh at how easily he undoes it. "Done this before?"

"Not in a long time," he says with a smile. "A long time."

My heart skips a beat as I register what he's saying. He hasn't been with anyone in years. Not gonna lie-I'm elated.

"Too bad for the ladies of Maine," I say, my fingers going to his belt buckle. "But lucky for me."

He groans as I slide a hand into his jeans, finding him hard through his  boxers. "Olivia." His head dips down, hovering above my nipple for a  half second, his eyes moving to mine before he licks the tip of my  breast.

I let out a small cry, one hand going to the back of his head and holding him to me as he makes me crazy with his mouth.

He pulls back only long enough to get rid of both of our jeans, until  he's left only in blue boxers and me in my bikini panties. Sitting back  on his knees, he smiles down at me. "You wear pink lingerie. Of course."

He slides a finger along the lace before hooking his fingers into the thin fabric and tugging them down my legs.

I'm naked before Paul Langdon, and nothing has ever felt so right.

He looks at me, his eyes worshiping, and I lie perfectly still, letting him.

"You're beautiful," he says, his voice turning regretful. "You deserve someone equally beautiful."

My heart clenches at the expression on his face and I sit up, kneeling  in front of him. And then I show him what I don't know how to say with  words. I lean forward and very softly kiss a thin, ragged scar running  from his left shoulder to the center of his chest.

He sucks in a breath. "Don't."

I ignore him, kissing my way up his neck, lingering along that perfect, harsh jawline before moving over to his right side.

He tenses as he realizes what I'm about to do. "Don't."

My hands find his before he can push me away, and gently my lips touch  the first of the raised scars on his face. I follow suit with the other  two scars, each touch of my lips letting him know that to me he is  perfect.

Paul crushes his mouth to mine then, pushing me onto my back. His hand  slides between my legs, finding me wet and wanting. He pulls back only  long enough to remove his boxers before he comes back to me, sliding one  long finger into me without warning.

"You need to be sure about this," he says, his voice hoarse against my neck as he fingers me. "No regrets tomorrow."

Regrets? Definitely the furthest thing from my mind right now, and I slide my hand down to his erection to show him so.

He swears before grabbing both of my wrists and pinning them above my head with one hand.

"I can't go slow, Olivia. Not with you, not this first time. I can't  promise gentle, either. Maybe next time," he says with a little laugh.

My heart is a little stunned-and glad, beyond glad-to realize that he's planning on a next time.

I squirm. "I don't want gentle."

I've barely whispered the sentence when he thrusts inside me, hard and fast. I gasp a little at the invasive pleasure of it.

He buries his face in my neck with a muttered curse, and the dark room is filled with the sound of our harsh breathing.

Then I wind my legs around his waist and he goes wild. One hand  continues to hold my wrists as the other slides down my hip, under my  butt. I helplessly twist my wrists above my head, wanting to touch him,  but he holds me in a vise, leaving me completely at his mercy as he  drives me up almost to the headboard.

"Jesus, Olivia."

In response, I turn my head, scraping my teeth down the side of his  neck, smiling wickedly as it spurs him to an even faster pace.

I've never been like this before, wanton and wild, but it's like he's  tapped into another side of me that I didn't know existed. Gone is the  girl who thought she wanted sweet words and gentle kisses. I only want  him.

"More," I whisper. "Please."

Paul groans in response, releasing my wrists so that his hands can go to  my knees. He presses my legs apart wider apart before lifting his head  slightly. Just enough to look down at me, his blue eyes burning a dark  slate gray.

Then he rotates his hips once, twice, pressing against me in just the  right way. I'm closer to coming than I realized, and the way his pace  increases, I don't think I'm alone on the precipice.         

     



 

I realize then how much we've lost ourselves in the other person. Enough to get stupid.

"Paul." With my last bit of sanity I claw frantically at his shoulder. "Condom."

He freezes. "Shit. Shit."

I try not to moan at the loss of him as he moves to get his jeans and digs through the pocket.

"Seriously?" I ask with a breathless little laugh as I hear the familiar sound of ripping foil. "You carry that around?"

He rolls on the condom and gives me an unapologetic grin. "Every day  since the first night I fingered you in my bedroom. I thought it was  wishful thinking, but I'm really glad that it's not."

Then he's inside me again, his palms on the inside of my thighs as he keeps me open and deliciously exposed.

His hand moves to where we're joined, his thumb finding my clit, moving in tiny, tight circles, and I swear to God, I go blind.

And then I explode with a loud cry I barely recognize as my own.

Seconds later, my hands are once more above my head. My breath still  shuddering, I'm pinned to the bed in every possible way as he moves  harder, faster, his eyes locking on mine until he squeezes them shut.  His face is the picture of ecstasy as he comes inside me with a harsh  gasp.