He pushed all of that out of his mind, picking Rebecca up and carrying her up the stairs, holding her so close that he knew she could feel his raging heartbeat.
He deposited her onto the center of the bed, his blood a slow burn that he knew would catch fire the moment he touched her again. He stood back, pulling his shirt up over his head, standing before her with his jeans open, the evidence of how much he wanted her obvious, thanks to the steel jut of his cock, begging for her touch again.
He was so hard it hurt. That need, that specific, all-consuming need nearly undoing him completely. “Tell me you want me,” he said, the words coming out low and rough, completely without his permission.
It was Rebecca’s turn to take off her remaining clothes, to lay down on the bed and spread herself before him like a carnal buffet. “You first,” she said, soft words shot through with iron.
“I want you,” he said, shoving his jeans and underwear down and leaving them on the floor.
He moved to the bed, kneeling in front of her, his hands shaking as he placed his palms against her thighs, stroking her up to her hips, holding her tight as he looked into her eyes. “You. I want you.”
“Why?” she asked.
Because I need you.
But he didn’t say that. “Because you’re beautiful.”
“No. If it was all about being beautiful, then you would have someone else. Why do you want me?”
A shiver worked its way down his spine, evidence of frustrated desire, he told himself. Because he didn’t want to know what else it could be. “Because you’re strong. Because you can take me, and I don’t think anyone else can.”
Those words came from deeper in his soul than he would’ve liked, cut closer to the bone than he had intended.
“Then give it all to me,” she said, grabbing hold of his shoulders, urging him up. “Give it to me.”
He moved, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of her face, leaning down so that his lips were a breath away from hers. “Tell me you want this.”
“I don’t want this,” she said.
The spike of pain that stabbed his chest took his breath away. Then Rebecca grabbed hold of his chin, holding his face steady. “I don’t want sex or experience, I don’t want the orgasms I was deprived of over the years. I want you. I want you, Gage West. So deep inside of me I can barely breathe.”
He growled, reaching over to the nightstand, quickly procuring a condom and rolling it onto his length. Then he pressed against her slick, tight entrance, his muscles tensing as he thrust home, desperate to be inside of her. Surrounded by her. To give her what she said she wanted.
To give himself what he knew he needed.
He let every word, every worry, every truth, burn into bright light. Nothing in his mind but the white-hot burn of pleasure. He pushed it all away, held it at bay. Because as close as he had been to losing it before he had joined his body to hers, it would send him over the edge now.
So he let this consume him. The feel of her, the scent of her. Delicate fingertip sliding down his back, soft, feminine sounds of pleasure, the way that her thighs parted just for him. The way that he fit there, not comfortably. Nothing about this could ever be called comfortable. It was too much. Too hot, too tight. But it was the only thing he wanted.
She was the only thing he wanted.
It wasn’t perfect, sweet satisfaction and it never would be. It cut too deep for that. It hurt too much.
Fingernails dug into his skin, her internal muscles tightening around him as she found her own release. And he was powerless to fight against that. He could do nothing but surrender. The sharp edge of his orgasm stabbed deep like a knife, stealing his breath, making it impossible for him to do anything but hold on to her while a bomb burst inside of him.
It left everything in him ruined, devastated, the jagged bits of his release biting into him, leaving their mark, burying themselves so deep he knew they would be there forever.
He would never be the same. Rebecca Bear had left scars on his soul that would never go away.
He pressed his head down, resting his forehead on her shoulder.