Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Tegan
I should leave. That’s the first coherent thought that forms in my head.
I’m still tangled in his sheets, still half wrapped around him as if, sometime in the night, I forgot there were boundaries and just…
stopped caring. His arm is around my waist. Heavy.
Warm. Possessive in a way that sends a slow heat through my stomach.
“If you want me to stop,” he murmurs, “you should probably say it now.”
“I don’t,” I whisper. My heart beats so hard I’m surprised he can’t hear it.
That’s all it takes. He pulls me toward him and kisses me.
It’s not gentle, not that I expected it to be.
It’s hard and certain and a little bit impatient, as if he’s been holding back longer than he wants to admit.
His lips crush against mine, mashing them against my teeth, his tongue spearing between them and into my mouth.
I open for him and match his aggression with my own.
I won’t be just a vessel. I’m willing to work for my pleasure, too.
Our tongues tangle, fierce need chasing away the playful sweetness of just a few minutes ago.
He deepens the kiss and rolls onto his back, pulling me the rest of the way on top of his broad body.
One hand slides up my back, the other stays steady at my hip.
My legs splay over his lap, our centers aligned so perfectly only the fabric between us keeps the rock-hard erection between us from sinking directly into me. I laugh breathlessly against his mouth.
“What?” he murmurs.
“I was scared of something outside your house,” I say.
“Yeah. And?”
“And this is somehow worse.”
He smiles against my lips.
“Worse?”
My answer disappears when he kisses me again.
The world narrows down to warmth and hands and the quiet rustle of sheets as he pulls me closer.
For a moment, I hesitate. Not because I don’t want this.
Because I do. And that realization hits me all at once.
It’s terrifying to go from being complete strangers to actually being on the verge of buying into the instant ever-after stuff he claims. He must feel the shift in me because he pauses, brushing his thumb along my cheek.
“You okay?” The question is soft, real, and I nod.
“Yeah, I think so.”
His forehead rests against mine for a second before he kisses me again—slower this time, as if we’ve both crossed some invisible line.
The kisses get deeper, and I lose sense of time as we explore each other in this dark room.
I know it’s morning because my internal body clock tells me so, but the blackout curtains tight around where I assume windows are keeps the room nearly pitch black.
The only light is the tiny glow from his phone screen lighting up with messages we’re both ignoring.
The touches get bolder, until eventually there’s nothing careful left about it at all. Before I realize it, his hands cup my breasts, and I arch into a seated position in his lap. He curls up in an impressive sit up and helps me pull my sleep shirt over my head.
“Fuck, I’ve never wanted morning light in this room, and now, I’m cursing myself for not expecting this,” he grumbles. “Want to see these perfect tits.”
His grouching makes me giggle. He’s so controlled and competent that seeing him disgruntled is hilarious. I push my breasts into his palms, aching to feel the pinch of those long, thick fingers.
“You never bothered to get one of those automatic clapping lights to avoid situations like this?” I tease.
“What situations like this? I’ve never brought another woman here, Tegan. No one’s ever mattered enough to bring around here.” There’s no hesitation, and my heart trusts him so easily it steals my breath.
“Lucky me.”
I gasp as his mouth replaces his left hand on my breast, suckling my nipple between his lips in a rhythm that has me canting my hips to match. I ride over the ridge of his erection between us, wishing we were naked.
Vincent must have the same thought as I do, because his fingers work beneath the elastic of my panties until he reaches the seam at my left hip.
Deftly, he rips the thin cotton from leg to waist then pushes the fabric out of the way until it’s bunched on the other side.
He works his hand between us, his knuckles grazing my drenched center as he works himself free of his shorts.
“I’ll eat this pussy for breakfast later.
Right now, I’m going to die if I don’t get inside you.
Tell me I can fuck you bare, kitten. I swear I’ll make it good for you.
” The fact he thinks he needs to promise to make me come is ludicrous.
He’s not even inside me, and I’m closer than I’ve ever been with anyone else so fast.
“I’ve got an IUD, and I tested negative for everything after my last—” I start.
“Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t want to plot the murder of those fuckers while you’re in our bed,” he grits out.
“Don’t be a hypocrite, Vincent!” I snap, the sass turning to a moan as the thick head of his cock wedges its way into me. Rubbing against him the way I had been prepared me for him to be big, but the reality of his size has me gasping.
“It’s not hypocrisy to want to kill anyone who might walk on this earth believing they had any claim to you,” he snarls. “You. Belong. To. Me.” He punctuates each word with small thrusts that force his way deeper and deeper inside me, until my backside is flush with his lap.
“Then you’re all mine,” I argue back, breathless from being so full it feels as if my organs are being rearranged to make room for him.
“Until I take my last breath, kitten,” he vows.
The promise, so freely and fiercely given, sets something free inside me, and my body responds with abandon.
I bounce and grind with no rhythm, just instinct, while his hands grip my hips so tight, guiding me, that I know I’ll have bruises.
In minutes, or maybe hours, my orgasm crashes through me.
Muscles I haven’t thought about in years lock so tight I can barely move.
Vincent continues working my body over him, as if I’m his personal sex toy, until he follows me over the edge and I feel his hot cum streaking my insides.
Later, when everything is still again, I lie with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. My hair is a mess. The sheets are twisted everywhere, and his arm is wrapped around me as if it never plans to leave. I trace a lazy circle on his chest.
“Well,” I say.
“Well?” he echoes.
“That definitely distracted me from the scary noises outside.”
“Happy to be of service.” His chest shakes with quiet laughter.
“Did the guys ever figure out what was out there? Or did my overactive imagination keep everyone up all night?” I ask. Part of me expects him to deflect, to tell me this is club business and to stay out of it the way the motorcycle guys in television shows would.
“Unsure. Let’s find out.” His offer is so casual, including me so easily, it makes my heart soar.
We have so much to learn about one another.
This whole love at first sight thing still feeling impossible.
But every time a moment happens when I expect to see a red flag, Doctor Vincent Charmden wows me with nothing but green ones.
He rolls away just long enough to snag his phone and a television remote from the table beside the bed, returning to pull me back into the cradle of his arms.
“Whatever it is, and however this plays out, you’re staying put here with me. Got it?” He’s not asking, but I answer anyway.
“Yup. I got you,” I say. Because seriously, I really think I do.
Tegan and Charm ends in a HFN because their HEA takes place after we find out what’s going on with the men who are after Malachi. Stay tuned for more Ghost Born MC, including ROW, which is Malachi’s story, out soon!