THE CRAZY GOOD SERIES - Rachel Robinson Page 0,248

against it, trying to catch my breath and steel my nerves. The scent of his cologne wraps around me, his brown eyes are wounded, his posture is strong—solid. Everything about him is unsure and cautious, and I don’t have anyone to blame except for myself. He takes in a deep breath of his own and lets his gaze wander from my face to my body and back up. He closes his eyes as if my mere presence brings him pain. In return, it causes me indescribable agony.

“There are a million things I should say right now, Steven. I’m going to say something and hope that you’ll honor it.” He opens his eyes and tilts his head, signaling his impatience.

I hit my knees in the floor length evening gown. It’s harder than it was years before, but I make it without injuring myself. Clasping my hands together, I beg, “Forgive me. God, just forgive me for being so cold and so callous. I did everything wrong, Steven. I took your love for granted. I took my love for you for granted. I didn’t swallow life whole. I merely chewed up what I wanted and spit out the rest. I know that sounds weird and stupid, but it’s not. I’m so, so sorry for hurting you. I broke up with you because I was afraid to lose you...and myself. Again. I know how that barely makes sense, but I want you. I want you.” I hang my head, because the pain etched on his face is the stuff my nightmares are made of. My tear drips down onto the red, swirled carpet.

My eyes are glassy when I raise my chin. “I’m asking you to please forgive me, and I don’t want anyone inside of me unless it’s you.” My smile is weak; his face is grim. He looks to the side where a long row of coats and fur jackets line the wall.

“Stand up, Morganna,” he says extending a hand to me. I take it and stand, mere inches separating our bodies. I wait. And then I wait more. When he finally looks at me, he bites his lip and shakes his head sadly.

“Did you ever look at me and actually see me?” His eyes turn down at the corners. His pain is fierce. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be enough for you, M.” Taking several deep breaths, he watches my lips as they tremble, afraid of what will come out of his mouth next.

“I’ve always seen you, Steven. I saw you before you saw me! Before I was even a dot on your radar!” My voice is loud and angry. I know when I’m losing a case.

His huge hands come up and grip my shoulders. His mouth descends to mine, hungry, greedily, roughly. I’m pinned against coats, his tongue dancing with mine the next second. It feels precisely as I imagined it would. Being with Steven is like being home—it’s fire. I can’t deny my feelings or his feelings. I never really could, but with him here…I’m addicted. I was foolish to think I could live without this in my life. The pain I’ve carried around for months erases a touch. Pressing his body against mine, he tries to blend our parts into one. The urgency is palpable. He wants us just as much as I do. He pulls away brusquely.

“If what you say is true, we have to start somewhere. And right now I just want to fuck you and not think about anything else. I want your lips on mine, and I want my dick inside your body. Give me that. Right now. And I’ll think about the rest later.” I don’t even hesitate. Bending down, I grip the hem of my dress and raise it above my waist. His eyes are hungry as he pulls off my lacy thong and runs his hands over my stockings. He thinks about it, but in the end, leaves them on.

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me pay for my hideous mistake,” I order. His gaze flicks up to mine. “Do whatever you want. Just forgive me.” My voice is pleading. I can’t handle seeing anymore of his pain. I want it for myself.

He shakes his head, stands up, unzips his slacks, and pulls out his thick, throbbing dick. “This isn’t me forgiving you, Morg.” With one hand he strokes my core, spreading my wetness over the tip of his dick. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him.