Chapter 44
Sabrina’s smile was soft. Sad. But it was also fierce in the way broken things were fierce.
As Hew stared at her, he couldn’t help but wonder who had reached a hand inside his chest to squeeze his heart until it threatened to explode.
He was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or hell, maybe he’d crashed and burned on the flight home, and this was heaven.
He’d never believed in heaven.
He wanted to believe in this.
She bit her lip and twisted her fingers together. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear.” Her voice was raw with emotion. “Intimacy has already strained our friendship, and now I go and tell you this. But I couldn’t keep lying to you.”
A line appeared between her eyebrows. “That’s not true. I could keep lying to you, but I don’t want to. Because if we can’t hold on to everything else we’ve built together all these months, then at least we can hold on to the truth. To always being honest with one another and I—”
She stopped abruptly when he kicked the door shut. The sound cracked like a gunshot in the quiet, and Peanut—nestled like a fat, furry sultan in the pillows on Sabrina’s bed—lifted his sleepy head and loudly meowed his displeasure.
Hew barely noticed.
And he certainly didn’t pause. Didn’t think. Just moved…halving the distance between them with long, prowling strides until his boots touched the tips of her bare toes as they poked out from the bottom of the blanket.
They were still purple. Still sparkly.
Still perfect.
The lamp on the nightstand cast her face in a golden glow, glinting off the mussed strands of her hair, painting her cheeks a tender pink.
“Say it again,” he growled, his hands flexing at his sides to keep from grabbing her up, tossing her onto the bed, and devouring her like he was a starving man dropped into the middle of a clambake.
“S-say what?” she stammered, blinking at his sudden intensity. “Th-that I didn’t want to lie to you? That I—”
“No.” His chin jerked sideways. “Before that. Repeat what ya said before that.”
Understanding bloomed in her eyes, and she gave him that sad, fierce little smile.
“I love you, Hew. I think maybe I’ve loved you all along. I just didn’t know it was love because it didn’t feel crazy or scary. It just felt warm and easy and…right. But please don’t feel like you have to—”
He didn’t let her finish. He couldn’t let her finish.
He couldn’t go another second without touching her. Without kissing her. Without showing her everything he’d been keeping locked inside his head and heart for days, weeks, months.
He caught her wrists and pulled her up from the chair like she weighed nothing. The blanket tumbled to the floor, forgotten, and she gasped right before his mouth crashed down on hers.
Sweet Christ.
Her lips…
Soft and full. They tasted of peppermint tea sweetened by honey.
He’d kissed her before, but not like this. Not with his whole soul poured into it because he no longer had to safeguard his heart.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, momentarily stunned by his ardor. But then she was there. All in. Meeting him lick for lick. Suck for suck.
Her hands fisted in his hair and tugged him closer, closer, until there was no daylight between them. Until her entire length was pressed tight to his.
He lost track of time. Lost track of reality. Two weeks since their last kiss felt like twenty goddamn years. And relearning her mouth, her body, was decadence itself.
Her soft whimper when he nipped at her lower lip went straight to his cock. Her nails scraping across his scalp and the ankle she hooked behind his knee as she tried to better align their bodies nearly undid him.
And then…chaos.
Needy, desperate, frenzied chaos.
Buttons were popped. Boots were unlaced and toed aside. Clothes were shoved off shoulders, peeled down hips, and dragged over heads.
Each layer lost meant more skin. More heat. More of her.
He only came back to himself, back to reality, when there was nothing left between them but panting breaths and unquenched passion.
Despite her protest, he stepped back to look at her. To admire her. To delight in the way the lamplight washed over every curve, every plane, every dip and whorl and inch of pale, perfect skin.
Goddess, he marveled, still reeling with the idea that she had chosen him. Wanted him. Loved him.
How was it possible?
He didn’t know. But he wasn’t about to spend another second questioning it.
The bruise on her breast had faded away, leaving only plump skin. Her belly button piercing winked at him, as sexy as a warm whisper in his ear. And that tiny mole on her hip still charmed the hell out of him because it matched the one beneath her eyebrow.
“Hew?” Her forehead creased at his sudden, breathless stillness. “Is there…something wrong?”
Wrong? His gaze snapped to hers.
The scant inches between them felt like both a gift and a curse. A gift because he wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to ravish her if he closed the gap. A curse because it physically hurt not to be touching her, tasting her, loving her in all the ways he’d dreamed.
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” His voice was gravel and grit. “In fact, nothing has ever been more right.”
He couldn’t hold back another damn second. He scooped her into his arms and kissed her like he was a drowning man and she was oxygen itself as he carried her the few steps to the bed.
She loves me. She loves me. She loves me.
The refrain matched each beat of his heart as he marveled at his luck. At the miracle of being loved. Finally. But most importantly, being loved by her.
Sabrina Greenlee.
The Roman river goddess.
A woman who was braver than she knew. Kinder than was probably wise. And smarter than she’d ever admit.
If his heart had been a balloon, it would have burst from the sheer magnitude of the happiness filling it.
Peanut hissed when Hew lay Sabrina on the bed. The tom thudded onto the floor with an irritated flick of his crooked tail, but Hew gave him little more than a fleeting glance.
He was too busy stretching out beside Sabrina, gathering her close, reveling in the feel of her breasts crushed to his chest, her thighs twined with his, her soft belly cradling the hot, hard evidence of just how badly he wanted her. How much he needed her.
She needed him, too, if her busy, busy hands were anything to go by.
As he reclaimed her mouth, she touched him everywhere. His back. His buttocks. His chest. His nipples. Reaching between them to fist the length of him in her hand and make him groan.
“Ya keep doin’ that,” he whispered against her wet, wanton mouth, “and I won’t be able to go slow.”
“I don’t want you to go slow. We went slow the first time. Now, I want you inside me.” She wiggled her hips and angled him toward her core, swiping the head of his swollen cock between her lips so he could feel the searing heat of her. The sopping wetness of her.
She was ready. She was so, so ready.
And they’d barely even begun.
His groan turned into a growl. “Sabrina,” he warned when she thrust forward. Just a little. Just enough to dip his tip into her hot, honeyed center.
His toes curled. His eyes crossed. He had to stop kissing her and grit his teeth to keep from shoving into her. To keep from seating himself to the hilt. To keep from thrusting deep and grinding hard against the swollen nub of her little clit.
“Don’t. Move,” he rasped. His thumb found her nipple, rolling it as tight as a stone.
“I can’t help it.” Her hips jerked, and he slid in another fraction. Just enough so that her sweet pussy surrounded his head, his rim enclosed inside her gripping, milking entrance.
He screwed his eyes shut and fisted his hands into the covers behind her. Nothing had ever felt so good. So wet. So soft and tight and—
“I’m on the pill,” she whispered, her voice husky with wantonness. She leaned in to nip his chin. “And I was tested…after…after…” She didn’t finish. Didn’t want to spoil the moment by speaking of the monster who’d shattered her life in Charleston.
That was it. That’s all it took.
She was protected from unwanted pregnancy. And he was clean. And that meant…
He rolled her onto her back so quickly she squeaked her surprise.
The move disconnected their bodies. But she was quick to spread her thighs wide. And he was quick to grab the base of his cock.
Within a breath, they were chest to chest, nose to nose, and he was once again nudging his tip into the very heart of her.
Her breath was warm and sweet against his hungry lips. Her nipples scraped through his chest hair as they both struggled with each ragged breath. And her brown eyes were melty and warm as she held his gaze.
Something flickered briefly across her face.
Hesitation? Uncertainty? Unease?
He could barely speak past the pounding of his heart, past the begging of his cock. But he managed, “What is it, sweetheart?”
“I—” She bit her lip. He could see her pulse fluttering furiously in her throat. “I don’t know what this means, Hew.” She shook her head, her silky hair rustling against the pillowcase. “Does it mean you—” She swallowed, and a line formed between her eyebrows. “What do you feel for me?”
He blinked. Confused that she would ask. Confused that she didn’t know.
“Isn’t it obvious?” His voice was rougher than usual, breaking around the edges of his words. “Hasn’t it been obvious?”
She licked her lips. “I don’t know. I—”
“My heart refuses to beat unless you’re with me,” he interrupted, pressing his forehead to hers.
“I can’t breathe when you’re not near.” He lifted his head and framed her beautiful, beloved face with his hands.
“I love you, Sabrina. River goddess. I’ve loved you since the moment ya walked through the front door and fainted into my arms.”
Her nostrils flared, eyes filling until a single tear slipped from the corner of each.
He used his thumbs to gently brush them away, still unable to believe he was here. With her. And that there was nothing between them but love.
“I wanna make love to ya now.” He bent to nibble at the gentle curve of her bottom lip. “Is that okay?”
“God, yes.” Her immediate reply made him smile.
Lifting his head so he could watch her face, he entered her. Slowly. Gently. Easing in inch by inch because even though she was slick with desire, she was small and he was…not.
His vision dimmed at the edges and coalesced on the pleasure he saw in her expression as he pushed inexorably forward.
Feeling her silky walls close tightly around him.
Feeling her hands on his hips urging him onward.
Feeling her heels hook into the bend of his legs for purchase as she arched and finally, finally seated him fully.
His swollen head pressed tight against the barrier of her cervix. His balls smashed gloriously against the curve of her ass.
It was all too much. Too pleasurable. Too decadent.
And yet it wasn’t enough because his shaft ached for friction, testicles begging for release.
She had gasped at the feel of him fully embedded inside her, her eyes screwing shut. But now, she framed his face and held his gaze.
“I love you.” The words were said softly, sincerely. They fell into his ears, overflowed his heart, and filled all the empty places inside him left behind by a lifetime of loneliness, neglect, and rejection.
His throat was full. There was a terrible burning behind his eyes. But he managed, “I love you, too, Sabrina,” before he claimed her mouth and began to move.
Hew had had sex in backseats and bedrooms. In quick, sweaty bursts of need. And, sometimes, in slower, heated tangles that left him sated but still somehow empty. He’d even been blissfully passionate before. Had lost himself in the pleasure of the body beneath his. But this…
This was different.
Different in the way a ham sandwich was different from filet mignon.
Because this was the first time he’d made love to a woman. The first time he’d bared his whole heart while sharing his body. The first time every thrust carried not just lust and hunger, but devotion and reverence.
Short, fast thrusts that ground his pubic bone against her swollen clit. That’s what his Sabrina liked. Which was lucky, because that’s what he liked, too.
It was a rocking, rolling motion that kept them locked tightly together, body to body, heart to heart.
The sounds she made were low, raw, unbearably sexy.
Not the kittenish mewls or the keening whimpers of women who performed how they thought men wanted to hear.
Oh, no. Sabrina’s groans of pleasure and gasps of need were all natural, pulled out of her by desire and the uninhibited way she worked with him toward her own release.
“Yes, Hew,” she whispered. “Yes, just like that.”
She moved with him like they’d done this a thousand times before. Like this was a dance they’d practiced over and over again.
They’d been made for this.
Made for each other and—
His thoughts stopped because he felt it then. The little flutter inside her as her orgasm rushed closer.
Thank Christ. Because he was hanging on by a goddamned thread.
Forcing himself to keep the same pace, the same angle, he worked to push her past the point of no return. And then her body clamped down hard around his, rippling, milking, sucking him deep as her orgasm hit with the force of a lightning strike and she screamed his name.
That did it.
Hearing his name ripped from the back of her throat at the same time her body was ripped by wave after wave of delight had his own release tearing through him.
“Sabrina! I love you!” he groaned as jet after jet of molten heat shot out of him and spilled into her.
The pleasure wracked him, flexing his hips tight as a bowstring as he held himself deep. Emptying all that he had. Feeling her taking it. Welcoming it.