Chapter 17
Ava
I wanted him, and it was the only thing I cared about anymore. The only thing that mattered was Dane Scotland putting his hands on me. His scent, the feel of him, the scrape of his beard on my skin and his big body against mine. The only thing that mattered was that I get naked and get this man inside of me as soon as possible.
He didn’t argue that I was upset, that I wasn’t thinking right. I was thinking right, maybe for the first time in eleven years. The pain I’d just been through, as harrowing as it was, had stripped away a lot of my lies and self-deceptions. It had robbed me of my defenses and rubbed me raw. It hurt—I’d have scars—but alongside the pain came a strange kind of truth. I didn’t just want comfort or a few minutes without the pain. I wanted Dane—only him, all of him. And I was going to have him.
His hands were on my waist, my hips, then my breasts. He paused only for a second as I pulled his shirt and hoodie off over his head, dropping them to the floor, and then he unzipped my dress and let it fall. He took my wrist and led me to the bedroom.
We were naked in seconds, and it was easy. So perfect. Why had I ever thought this was hard? Why had I ever stressed about what my body looked like or wondered whether a man would like it? I couldn’t remember what that felt like right now, with Dane pressing me back against the bed, his big hands moving my thighs apart as he dipped his head between my legs. I couldn’t remember what it was like not to feel sexy, like a goddess. I couldn’t remember what it felt like not to be confident. Dane’s thumbs pressed into my inner thighs and his mouth came down on me, and my fists gripped the sheets as my back arched and I pressed down on him. Pressed against his mouth, wanting more, harder, right now. This man knew every inch of me, and he was proving it right now as his tongue slid over my wet folds and his beard rubbed my skin and his thumbs pressed me. I closed my eyes as the sensation washed over me, and I let go.
It was everything I wanted, everything I needed. Dane knew how fast to go, how deep to go, how to use his amazing fingers. How to make me build until I was gripping his hair and gasping his name. And then, when I was completely lost, he knew how to make me come so hard my whole body shuddered and my back lifted off the bed.
I dropped limp, panting, but we weren’t done. Dane kissed my lower belly, my hipbone, then moved up my body, his tongue tracing a line on the underside of my breast. His mouth fixed on my nipple and I groaned, the sensation almost too much. He moved to my other nipple and then I was wet again, a pulse low in my belly. I was aching for him. I’d been aching for him since he answered the door that first time, but only now was I willing to admit it.
He kissed my neck and then my mouth, and I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him down against me. Dane was bigger now, his body heavier with muscle, his weight pressing me into the bed in the most delicious way. But he was careful with me, keeping his weight on his arms, lowering gently until his hard stomach was against mine, the hairs on his chest rubbing my oversensitized breasts. He broke the kiss and moved his hips against me, his cock rubbing through my wet folds, long and slow. I wrapped my arms around his lean waist, gripping his ass, and our gazes locked.
We had an entire conversation in that second. Dane wasn’t wearing a condom. I didn’t even know if he had any, and neither of us moved to go find one. We hadn’t used condoms eleven years ago once I’d gone on the pill, though I’d used condoms with every guy afterward. The experience with the pregnancy had left me too burned.
Now we spoke without words as he moved his hips again, rubbing the head of his cock against me. In his expression I could see that he wanted me, he trusted me, but he was making sure. I could see his certainty. He knew what I was asking, and I didn’t have to speak.
“Is this what you want?” he asked me softly.
I leaned up and kissed him, sliding my tongue along his lip, feeling the tremble in his entire body as I did it. “You know what I want,” I said.
Dane moaned, moved his hips again, and pushed into me.
I had never felt anything so good. I gripped him hard and Dane moved, his muscles bunching under my hands, his biceps flexing, his head dipping. I moved with him, taking him deeper as I got accustomed to his new body, as I ran my hands over the muscles that had never been there before. We’d tried to slow down eleven years ago, but the fact was, we’d usually gone fast and hard, unable to get enough of each other once we started. I felt that same frantic instinct again, in him and in me, but now both of us fought it. Dane paced himself and I dug my nails in, holding on, feeling it build.
And it built. High and fast. Sweat beaded on Dane’s neck and I gasped against his skin, holding on. My body went haywire, every nerve raw, every inch of my skin alive with pleasure. I angled my hips and he rubbed me the right way, just like that, and he took no mercy on me.
I came first, falling apart around him, squeezing him. Then it was his turn, and I felt all of the familiar signals—the way his breath came short, the way his muscles locked and his hips slowed. I knew exactly what Dane did when he came, and nothing had changed. I felt him deep inside me, and then we both slowly relaxed, Dane moving his weight off me to rest on one side.
He put his arm around me, heavy and warm, and I closed my eyes and took a breath. Everything washed through me: pain, humiliation, want, unbearable happiness. And last of all, hope. It inflated my chest and made my blood sing. I didn’t want to feel it, and yet I still did.
“Dane,” I said.
His voice was a low rumble beside me, deep and satisfied. “I know.”
“I know you know, but I have to say it.”
“I know.”
“We understand each other, but I have to say it. I have to put it out there. I can’t just let it go unsaid.”
Dane was quiet, waiting.
I opened my eyes and took a breath. “I’m not on the pill,” I said.
He moved, rising onto one elbow and looking down into my face. He didn’t look afraid at all. Then again, Dane Scotland had never been afraid of anything, including this.
“I know,” he said, and kissed me.