After a few minutes of stroking his chest, of pressing light kisses to his back, she said, “Come back to bed.”
He nodded. “Soon.”
“Not soon,” she said gently. “Now. We have to be up early tomorrow.”
The plan was to drive to his parents’ house tomorrow. It was a few hours away—and yet didn’t feel nearly far enough. “I’ll still be able to drive.”
She made a sound of protest. “I know you will, but I want you to feel okay too. Come on. I’ll help you relax.”
His body stirred at just the suggestion. Hell, he was half-hard whenever she was around. Now was no exception. His cock already formed a tent in his boxers. It would only grow painful if she kept touching him, kept pressing those lovely breasts against his back, kept her warm breath against his skin.
His hips actually bucked, his body blindly seeking her, an animal instinct, a need.
He felt her lips curve in a smile. “I didn’t mean that,” she said. “But we could.”
Except he didn’t like to fuck her when he’d just woken up from one of the nightmares. It felt too dirty, like letting her get close to that moment and all the darkness that infected him. He also didn’t quite trust himself right after one of those dreams, still shaky and overly alert.
Especially after he’d been fucking holding her down.
“Let me hold you,” he said instead. He wanted to hold her gently, sweetly. He wanted to erase every rough touch he’d used on her a few minutes ago. He wanted to erase those memories she had of him doing that, but he knew well how impossible that would be.
Wordlessly she took his hand and led him back to bed.
After she climbed in, he curved his body around hers. God, she was warm and soft. It was like fucking heaven to feel her in his arms. It scared him sometimes, how good she felt. Like he might hold her too tight, might force her to stay even if she’d be better off gone.
He let out an uneven breath.
She stroked her fingers over the back of his hand, rhythmic and soothing. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
He pressed his face into her hair. She smelled so fucking good. His arms tightened around her. He forced himself to relax a fraction, to let her breathe. But not much, because he needed her. Needed to hold her, to feel her safe and whole with him.
There were questions he wanted to ask her. Like if he’d hurt her while he was dreaming. If he’d hurt her before tonight. He wanted to know if she was happy with him, truly. But he knew what her answers would be. She was fine, fine, fine. He wasn’t sure she’d ever tell him if she wasn’t.
She was too damn strong for her own good.
His heart had stopped racing, his nerves had cooled. She had that effect on him. His dick was also hard as a fucking flagpole. She had that effect on him too, especially with her ass pressed up against him.
He smoothed his hand over her hip and down between her legs. Soft. Wet. Fucking heaven.
A small hitch in her breath was the sound of her assent. That and the widening of her thighs, giving him more access. She always let him in, and at least in this one thing, he could give her pleasure. He could make her feel good. As long as he kept the dark side of him in check. As long as he kept the beast locked up.
Want to read more?
Loving the Beast
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Standalone Dark Romance
After Dark Series
Dark Nights Series
Criminals and Captives Series
The Beauty Series
Loving the Beauty: A Beauty Epilogue
Skye Warren is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of dark romance. Her books are raw, sexual and perversely romantic.
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.
The Beauty Series © 2013 by Skye Warren
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