Chapter 3 Holly #2
"Listen to me." I placed my hands on his chest, over his heart. "I've spent my whole life waiting for something I couldn't name. And yesterday, when I saw you, it was like everything clicked into place."
"That's not possible."
"It is. It felt like finding something I didn't even know I'd lost." I could feel his heart racing under my palms. "I know it's crazy, I know it's too fast, but I also know it's real."
He was breathing hard now. "You don't understand."
"Then help me understand. Stop pushing me away and help me understand."
For a moment I thought he was going to pull away again. Then his hands came up to cover mine, holding them against his chest.
"You want to understand?" His voice was low and rough. "You want to know what you're doing to me?"
"Yes."
"You're making me forget why I'm supposed to stay away from you."
"Good."
I rose up on my toes and kissed him.
It was supposed to be soft, gentle. But the moment my lips touched his, everything exploded into heat and need and desperation.
He went rigid for a heartbeat. Then something broke inside him. His arms crushed me against his chest, his mouth moving against mine with hunger that stole my breath. He kissed me like he was starving, like I was the first good thing he'd tasted in years.
I made a soft sound against his mouth, and he groaned in response, one hand tangling in my hair, the other pressing against the small of my back. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and when I opened for him, the kiss turned desperate, consuming.
I pressed closer, my hands fisting in his flannel shirt. When his teeth caught my lower lip, I gasped, and he swallowed the sound.
We stumbled backward until my shoulders hit the wall, and he pinned me there with his body, his mouth never leaving mine. One hand braced against the wall beside my head, the other cupped my face with surprising gentleness.
"Holly," he whispered against my lips.
"Don't stop," I breathed.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, his control fraying. I could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back. When he finally pulled away, we were both breathing hard.
His forehead rested against mine, eyes closed tight. "This is a mistake."
"No," I whispered. "This is the first thing that's felt right in a very long time. I want you," I said simply. "I want this. I want us."
I could see the exact moment he stopped fighting. His hands moved to the hem of my sweater, fingers skimming the bare skin of my waist.
He lifted my sweater over my head, his eyes darkening as he took in the simple lace bra I wore. "Beautiful," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the hollow of my throat. "So damn beautiful."
I reached for his flannel, working the buttons with shaking fingers.
He helped me push it off his shoulders, and I got my first real look at his chest. Broad and muscled, scattered with scars I wanted to kiss for some reason.
The pink and white scars ran jagged over his arm, side and chest, fanning out just like the blast would have.
I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to one of the scars on his shoulder. He went rigid under my lips.
"Holly..."
"Does this hurt?"
"No. God, no. It's just..." He opened his eyes, vulnerability clear in them. "No one's ever looked at them like that. Like they're not something to be ashamed of."
"They're part of you. Part of your story. Why would I be ashamed?"
Instead of answering, he kissed me again, his hands moving to the clasp of my bra. It fell away, and his breath caught.
"Perfect," he whispered, his hands cupping my breasts. When his thumbs brushed over my nipples, I gasped, arching into his touch.
"Riley, please..."
"Please what?"
"More. I need more."
His hands were everywhere—tangling in my hair, skimming my ribs, working at the button of my jeans. When he slid them down my legs, I kicked them aside, standing before him in nothing but simple cotton panties.
"Christ, Holly." His voice was rough with desire. "You're killing me."
I reached for his belt, my fingers fumbling with the buckle. "Then do something about it."
He helped me with his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, and then we were both naked, both breathing hard as we looked at each other.
He was gorgeous. All lean muscle and golden skin, scars and all. And the way he was looking at me…
"Come here," I whispered.
He lifted me against the wall, my legs wrapping around his waist. The feeling of skin against skin was electric, perfect. He entered me slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving mine. The sensation was overwhelming—not just the physical pleasure, but the emotional connection.
"Okay?" he whispered.
"Perfect." I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "You feel incredible."
He began to move then, slow and deep, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that was tender and desperate all at once. Every thrust sent pleasure spiraling through me, building and building until I was trembling on the edge.
"Let go," he whispered against my ear. "I've got you."
I shattered, my release crashing over me in waves. Riley followed me over, my name on his lips as he buried his face in my neck.
We stayed like that for long moments, both of us shaking, both changed by what had just happened. Outside, the storm raged on, but inside, wrapped in Riley's arms by the firelight, I'd never felt warmer.