Breaking South (Turner Artist Rocker #3) - Alyson Santos Page 0,30

a demanding response, lifting into it until that’s not enough either. His fingers shove into my hair as well, molding me to him as his tongue challenges mine and takes control of the kiss. I groan into it, involuntarily, like everything else that suddenly happens to my typically controlled instincts. Stiff limbs become loose and primed to seek his body. Hips accustomed to trained movements, now sway in improvised choreography against his. One hand locks in his hair, tugging until he flinches. The other scales his chest and arm until the fabric gets in the way again.

I straighten and rock back on his hips to finish unbuttoning his shirt. Once freed, he rips it off his arms and tosses it to the floor. I work at the button of his jeans, deciding those need to come off too. Gosh, I want everything off. I don’t want anything separating us anymore. I unhook my own zipper and add my jeans to the growing pile on the floor. I turn back to him and catch my breath.

His hair, messy from where I teased it, drifts over warm brown eyes laced with affection and desire. I already knew his body was stunning, but seeing him like this, in my bed, fully exposed and waiting for me is almost too much to accept. The fact that his gaze scours my own with unchecked hunger sends my pulse into dangerous rhythms that trigger more aching surges. I find his lips again, melting into his kisses until I can’t breathe. With a groan, he rolls us so he’s braced over me, and my hips instinctively lift to seek his.

“Oliver,” I whisper through a moan.

“Everything okay?” he asks, his voice gravelly and strained.

“I want you.”

I feel like a poet with the way my simple statement makes his beautiful eyes shine. Like he’d been waiting for those words.

“I want you too,” he says, searching my gaze before leaning in for another kiss.

I slide my hands around his lower back, shoving them beneath his boxer-briefs to latch our hips into steady alignment. My fingertips sink into firm muscle, perfectly carved like everything else about him. He hardens into steel against me, a pained grunt rumbling from his throat when my legs wrap around him to pull him in further. My body is an inferno, taut with need. I feel him pressed against my opening, but there’s still too much fabric between us.

“Let me get a—”

“Are you clean?” I ask, panting.

“Yes, but—”

“I’m on the pill. I trust you.”

Did I just say that? I haven’t had sex since my break-up with Darryn months ago, but suddenly I can’t imagine not being with Oliver right now. No consequence seems important, no barrier too big. His beautiful eyes search mine. What’s he thinking? For a split second, I see the hunger. The animalistic impulse that’s driven him to the top of his sport. I shudder with anticipation; a deep longing burns low in my belly to experience that instinctive primal drive. But he quickly shields it, shaking his head as he straightens and reaches for his jeans.

“Thank you for trusting me. That means a lot.” He fishes a condom from his wallet, and somehow I’m not surprised that the guy who resists partying and other carnal temptations would fight this one as well. Honestly, right now I don’t care how it happens; I just need it to happen.

He returns, and I forget all about the negotiation when he braces over me again. He’s art in this moment, beautiful and strong. A force I suddenly need to experience in full before I explode. I position him in place, gasping as he pushes inside.

“Is this okay?” he asks in a labored voice.

“So okay,” I breathe. “Oliver… ah!” I buck my hips, seeking more of him, and he obliges with a deeper thrust. His groan at my ear is more of a growl, like a part of him is escaping after being caged. The sound fires through my blood, hot and angry, stirring into shivers of desire. My legs wrap around his, pulling him further into me. His breathing comes in heavier gasps as well, matching mine as we start to move.

“I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you,” I gasp out, moaning when his expert movements trigger tiny ruptures in my blood stream.

“So did I,” he says.

My eyes clench shut against the building current, sparks flaring white hot through my core. My heels dig into the back of his thighs, his large body