He pulls my hand away from his head, pressing a feather-light kiss to the sensitive skin on my wrist, and I feel his tender touch all the way to the tips of my toes. His gentle touch is in direct contrast to his edgy look. With his defined abs, bulging biceps, and ink-covered tan skin, he looks like the quintessential bad boy every girl gets warned about. “Why were you out there?” he asks, keeping his gaze locked on mine.
I could lie, but I’m tired of all the lies.
I’m tired of saying what’s expected and pretending to be someone I’m not.
“I didn’t want to feel anymore.”
There’s a pregnant pause as he stares at me, no doubt wondering if I meant that sincerely. “What would you have done if I hadn’t spotted you?” he inquires, still trying to puzzle me out.
I shrug. “Kept walking most likely.” Allowed the sea to claim me as I’d originally intended when I’d given Oscar, my bodyguard, the slip, and driven here.
“Who are you? What’s your name?”
I cup his face, deciding on the truth again. “I’m nobody. I’m invisible. I don’t exist except to obey their commands.”
A slight frown creases his brow. “If you’re in trouble. If—”
“Don’t.” I cut across him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Silence engulfs us for a few beats. “What do you want?” he asks, his voice dropping a notch, sounding wholly seductive, although I’m unsure if that’s on purpose or not.
“I want to feel something real,” I reply without uncertainty. “I want to let go of these chains that bind my body. To feel like I’m in control even if it’s only an illusion.” My eyes stay locked on his, and electricity crackles in the air again.
He rakes his gaze up and down the length of my body, his heated stare lingering on my chest as my nipples harden. His eyes flit to my mouth before he licks his lips and drags his gaze upward. His eyes bore into mine, and butterflies scatter in my chest, my heart beating faster and faster as my body heats in a whole new way. “I can help with that.”
This time, there’s no doubting his intent, and my core aches with need. My gaze drills into his eyes, projecting my acceptance and permission.
Nodding slowly, he pulls me onto his lap, circling his arms around my waist. “Are you sure?”
I bob my head. “Please make me feel alive. Make me feel like me. Remind me why I should live.”
It’s crazy.
I don’t know him.
He doesn’t know me.
But I feel more hopeful in this moment than I have in years.
Slowly, he brings his face to mine, brushing his lips against my mouth. I close my eyes as my body sags in relief. Snaking my arms around his neck, I angle my head as he caresses my mouth with his luscious lips. His kiss is unhurried and worshipful. His mouth moves leisurely and seductively against mine, and this kiss is unlike any I’ve ever experienced before.
Trent kisses with years of pent-up anger and aggression behind his punishing lips, and it makes me feel dead on the inside. This stranger’s tender kisses unravel the knots that usually twist in my gut, breaking through the walls that cage my heart, allowing warmth and pleasure to invade every single part of me.
I meld my lips and my body to his, straddling his hips and gasping as his hard length nudges against the softest part of me. He rocks his hips gently in expert, measured movements, and a burst of desire shoots through me, overtaking logic and warning and common sense.
I shouldn’t be doing this here with some guy I don’t know.
It would enrage my father, my twin brother, Drew, and my fiancé, Trent, if they saw me, but that thought only spurs me on, strengthening my resolve.
He stands, holding me to him, and I tighten my legs around his waist as he walks toward the bedroom. Our mouths never separate as he lowers me to the bed, and we gradually shed our outer layers.
I’ve never been naked in front of any guy before. Trent repeatedly tries to strip me bare, but I enjoy denying him. Now, I spread my legs for this beautiful, rugged stranger, with no hint of nerves or vulnerability, admiring his gorgeous body as he pulls a condom out of his bedside table and rolls it over his impressive length.
We don’t talk, but words are redundant. He settles between my thighs, bringing his hot mouth to my pussy, and I almost lift off the bed as he devours me with his tongue and his fingers, quickly bringing me over the edge.
No man has ever done that to me before, and the pleasurable sensations coursing through my body are wholly new. When I come down from the best orgasm of my life, he climbs over me, kissing me passionately as his hands caress my small breasts. His roughened fingers tweak my nipples like he’s plucking strings on a guitar, rolling them skillfully until they’re taut peaks, and it’s not long before I’m writhing in need again.
He positions himself at my entrance, stalling to look at me. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asks, and another little chip melts off the block around my heart.
No one has ever cared to ask me what I need or what I want, and tears prick my eyes at the obvious concern in his eyes.
“Yes. I want to do this with you.”
His eyes are glued to mine as he slowly inches inside me. He stops halfway in, sweeping his fingers across my cheek. “You’re so beautiful.” He nudges in a little more. “And so tight.” He flexes his jaw, and I can tell he’s exercising caution. When he pushes in a little more, a sharp sting of pain jolts through me, and I wince.
His eyes pop wide as he holds himself still. Shock splays across his face. “You’re a virgin?” he splutters.
A sly smirk slips across my mouth. “I was.”
“Fuck.” He leans down, kissing me so sweetly I feel like crying. “You should’ve said.”
And have you change your mind? Not likely.
Thoughts of losing my virginity to that psycho Trent were part of the reason drawing me to the sea tonight. I’ve been holding him off for years, but with the wedding approaching, I know I can’t hold out much longer.
Denying him that victory only adds to the joy of this moment.
But it’s way more than wanting to one-up Trent.
I want to give my body to this gorgeous stranger.
To enjoy this one night where I can take something for myself before returning to the gilded cage I live in.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, bucking my hips up in encouragement. “I want this with you. Right here. Right now. Nothing has made so much sense in a long time.”
He inspects me for so long I fear he will pull out and change his mind, but then he pushes the rest of the way inside me, and I swallow my cry of pain. He peppers little kisses along my neck and my collarbone, gently kneading my tits as he slowly rocks back and forth inside me. “I’ll go slow until it doesn’t hurt anymore,” he whispers across my now overheated skin. “And if you want me to stop, I will.”
“I don’t want you to stop,” I say, threading my fingers through the longish dark strands of hair now falling over his strong brow. “Keep going.”
He makes love to me then, only picking up his pace when I confirm it no longer hurts, but he’s never rough, completely attentive to my needs, and he brings me to a second orgasm as his own climax hits.