Roar (Military Bad Boy Billionaire Romance) (Soldiers of Fortune Book 4) (17 page)

"Hold on," he says, but I'm already sliding my arms around his waist and clutching them tight. The bike roars beneath us, and the rumble of the engine, the smell of gasoline, the feel of this man in my arms - it all comes rushing back. And suddenly we're a year ago; suddenly nothing's changed.
We've
never changed, we've never lied to each other, we've never said things we can't take back, and we've never walked away from the one thing two shattered people could hold onto in this world.

I lean my face against his back, letting the moment soak into my skin; "Take me away from here," I whisper in his ear.

He's silent, but the bike roars beneath us as we roar away from the shadows and out to the main street. And I'm holding him tight like the last lifeline in a dream, where I'll drown if I let go for even just a second.

And I know I never, ever want to let go again.

There's a beast inside of me; an animal inside that roars and bellows as it tries to claw it's way to the surface. And most of the time, I keep him caged and locked away; except when I can't.

And there's something about Peyton Rivers that rips the lock from that cage and shatters the bars.

We're roaring through the night like there's nothing between us and the stars up above. We blaze out of the city center, hot metal beneath us, hot night around us,  and the incinerating hot fucking heat roaring inside of me for this girl like a Goddamn nuclear explosion.

 
I tear us through the market district towards the outer piers, the blinking lighthouse there showing us the way as if we’re a ship from the olden days being tossed among the waves. Except my way is clear, my hand is steady, and there are no rocks in the world that would stand between me and and her.

She says nothing when I cut the engine, nothing when I lift her off the seat, or smash in the lock on the front door to the lighthouse. She's quiet, watching me with this focused silence that I've known from her before. It's a look I'd never be able to clear from my head even if I wanted to.

It's only when I hear her shut the door behind us that I turn, slowly like I’m running underwater in a dream.
 

And there she is.
 

She's lit by moonlight, shrouded in memories, and glowing with the promise of revisiting every single one. There's a beat, a drawn breath, a lapse in time where the world stops moving…

And then there's nothing in this universe that could keep us from crashing together.

The silence is broken so perfectly, shattered so exquisitely by the desperation in her moan, the need in the growl that falls from my lips. And then I'm crushing my mouth against hers; pushing her back against the the door, my hand on her hip and the other grabbing her by the jaw as our lips sear to the others. It's liquid fire, molten heat, and pure, unhindered need as we come together.

This isn't looking back over the pages of our history, this is lighting the Goddamn book on fire.

She's wild and as forcefully take-charge as she's always been. This isn't the girl who moans quietly and lets herself be taken, this is the girl that growls and pounces like a lioness. This is the girl that leaves scratches down my back and sweet lingering bruises on my skin.
This
is the Peyton I remember; the tempest crashing against the shore like a force of nature.

She moans as my hands grab her hard, her leg sliding up mine to wrap around my waist and pull me tight against her. We're gasping for breath as I pull away from those sweet, bee-sting lips and slide my mouth down her neck to that spot by her shoulder that I know brings her to her fucking knees.

And I fucking love that I
know
these things and these places. I love that I remember her body like the road home, her skin like the map I don't even have to look at anymore.

She's yanking at my shirt as I tear hers from her body, unable to stop the grin that comes to my face at the sight of her perfect, full, teardrop breasts and the dappled pink of her nipples. I drop my mouth to them, pebbled and straining hard and ready in the moonlit darkness, and I clamp my lips around the soft skin there as my tongue flicks across. Her hands are tearing at my belt as I’m yanking the skirt from her hips and down her legs, my fingers sliding over the front of her panties as she bites my shoulder and pulls at the zipper of my pants. She pauses, moaning loudly and arching herself against me as my fingers delve deep between her cleft, stroking her there through her soaking wet panties and groaning at the heat throbbing from her core.
 

And suddenly, I want much more. I want to remember more.

Her panties tumble down her legs and drop to the floor, and her gasp turns to a shriek that bubbles from her lips as I lift her. I drag her much smaller body up mine as I drop to my knees, my lips and my tongue sliding over her skin as I hook my arms under her knees, my hands on her ass. Her hands grab my hair as I push her up against the door, her thighs over my shoulders and her back arched against the wall.

And then I'm tasting her, and groaning at the remembrance of her; the way she tastes like home. She's all honeyed sweetness and soft petals, and I drag my tongue from her opening up through her dewy lips to her clit. She gasps and writhes against me, bucking her hips and riding my tongue as I slide it inside of her. I want to spend all night teasing her; fuck, I want to spend forever with my tongue buried in this pussy.

But there's another page of history I want to see again; I want to see her come.

When I wrap my lips around her throbbing clit and flick my tongue across her in staccato beats to match the gasping moans falling from her lips, I know she’s about to detonate. And when she comes, it's grace and beauty. It's raw and sexual and primal, and it's delicate and soft like a rose caught in a storm. She explodes under my tongue, crying out my name and screaming it again and again in the emptiness of the lighthouse as I coax through wave after wave of of her aftershocks.
 

She pushes me away, whimpering and grinning at me with a hunger in her eyes that I know all too well. She's sinking to the ground, her legs around mine, and she's kissing me, moaning into me and tasting herself on my lips as her hips slide down to meet mine. She's reaching between us, and I growl as fingers slide around my thickness.

Oh, yeah, this I remember.

She strokes me slowly, as if I could possibly be any harder than the steel between my legs at this very moment. And then she's rising up, and guiding me against her wetness. She must feel my quarter second of hesitancy, because she leans in to kiss me; "I- I just missed this; the feel of just you and me with nothing between us." Her eyes dart up to mine; "I'm clean," she says quietly; "Are y-"

"There's been no once since you," My eyes lock with hers, wanting her more with every second, wanting to make up for the time lost again and again with every single beat of her pulse against my skin.
 

"You mean, you haven't- with any-"

"Of course there fucking hasn't been," I growl, my eyes roaring into hers; "There hasn't been anyone but you since the moment I met you."

“I never slept with Hugh.“
 

My brow furrows as I stare at her; “What?”

“Hugh, the whole thing-” She blushes and looks away for a second; “We went on two dates. I just pretended, because-  because I was angry.”

I’m laughing as I kiss her fiercely. I wouldn’t care one way or another, but there’s a primal possessiveness that roars through me, knowing that she’s mine and only mine.
 

We both gasp as I rock my hips into her, and we moan as one as I sheath every inch of my cock inside of her, claiming her once again.

And here's another memory, roaring back to me.

I'm remembering the way we fit together; the way she fits so perfectly around me, the way our skin slides together, the way her nipples graze my chest and the way her fingers claw at my back as we rock as one. I remember the way she loves when I roll my hips, pushing deeper inside of her until she throwing her head back and gasping for air. I remember the way she bites her lip, the way the supple skin of her ass feels cupped in my hands as I bodily move her up and down my shaft. I remember the smell of her arousal, the mouthwatering taste of her skin and her lips as she clenches tight around me.

And when I can feel myself start to lose control, I remember the way she falls with me. And when she clings to me so tightly and explodes around me like a starburst, screaming my name as she rides me, I remember how it feels to just
let go
, and I'm roaring right along with her as I fill her entirely.

Remember what I said about making up for lost time?

Yeah, we had a
lot
of time to catch up with.

We go again, and
again
, and more still, until we're both laughing and unable to move there on the floor. The rush of memories, the flood of the familiar coming back to my nerve endings and my brain is almost drug-like, but better. Remembering her is the best hit and the best high I've ever felt.

She's bent over on her knees in front of me, wiggling that ass of hers and
daring
me to yield, as if we're competing to see who drops or passes out first. And then I'm fucking her hard; the deep, rhythmic strokes that I know drive her wild. I'm pulling her hair,
just
hard enough to make her gasp, and
just
enough to have her reach back and claw at my chest, her fingers needy and grasping as she moans and writhes under me.
 

I'm groaning as she giggles and crawls between my legs, taking me in her mouth to revive me. And against every single aching muscle, and every single law of just human exhaustion, I'm hard again, and needing her.