The Man I Thought I Loved (Two-Faced #2) - E. L. Todd Page 0,75

pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips light a hot pan that seared my skin.

I loved having a man who was so secure that he didn’t care that my roommate was a man. I loved having a man who would fight for my relationships instead of ripping them apart. I loved having a man who went out of his way to be friends with my friends without even being asked.

“You want to sleep over?” His lips brushed against my skin as he spoke.

I nodded.

He turned away and closed up the penthouse, turning off the lamps and the TV. His drink was left on the table to be addressed tomorrow. He stopped at the entrance to his hallway and turned around to look at me.

I’d never been in his bedroom before. I’d just realized it for the first time.

He stared for a few seconds before he moved down the hallway.

I watched him go before I followed, entering the master bedroom at the end of the hallway. It was a large room with very little inside. It was a corner bedroom, so two of the walls were just windows, overlooking the city. There was no TV across from his bed. It was against the other wall, on an arm that could push the TV out and turn it if he wanted to watch it. A large dresser was underneath it, along with two paintings on either side of the TV. He had a nightstand on each side of the bed and a dark wooden headboard. Above it was a painting of a dark landscape, a jagged mountain with masculine colors and tones.

“You can use my toothbrush if you want.” He set his phone on his nightstand and dropped his sweatpants before he pulled back the covers and got inside, lying on his back with his hand behind his head. The sheets reached his waist, showing all his hardness above.

I stared at him in the bed and came closer, my heels moving to the rug around his bed.

“There’re shirts in my dresser.”

There was a bench at the end of the bed, so I sat down and got my heels off, undoing the straps over my feet so they could slide off and tip over onto the rug. When I stood up, I faced the Manhattan lights outside the window, the quietness of a loud city. My hand reached behind my back and found the zipper there. I pinched it between my fingers and slowly pulled it down, letting the material come off my body until it was loose enough that I could pull it over my hips and let it slide the rest of the way to the ground.

The breath Dax took was audible.

I reached behind me and unclasped the black bra. It came loose, and I pulled the straps down. The last thing was the matching thong I wore, so I bent and pushed it over my hips until it slid down my legs to my ankles. I stepped out of it and turned around.

Dax was up against the headboard, a whole new look of intensity I’d never seen before on his face. His dark eyes were on me, and his chest rose and fell at a quicker rate, like his excitement alone made his blood desperate for more oxygen.

My eyes remained on his, watching him visibly desire me, do his best not to drop his gaze and look at my tits, stomach, and the perfectly groomed area between my legs. I pulled the sheets back then crawled into the bed, moving closer to him until our faces were practically touching.

His hand snaked into my hair, but he didn’t kiss me.

I pushed the covers down so I could tug on his boxers, get them over his hips a little, until the top of his hard dick emerged. My intentions were perfectly clear—this was what I wanted; I didn’t want to wait another night…not when I was ready.

He pushed his boxers down before his hand dug into my hair, ignoring the pins and tugging them free as he kissed me. It was a slow kiss, a gentle beginning, and he breathed directly into my mouth once the kiss grew stronger, deeper, more passionate.

He rolled me onto my back, his body moving with mine, his knees separating my thighs as his kiss remained just as intense as before. His mass sank me into his mattress and sheets, and once his cock was pressed against me, it felt like an iron rod with heat running through it.

His lips moved down my neck, over my collarbone, and he secured his hand tightly in my hair to keep my head pinned to the pillow. His tongue glided down, and he kissed both of my breasts, handling my hard nipples with masculine gentleness. He kissed the valley between my breasts, his breaths making my skin wet.

He slowly moved back up, but the kissing stopped.

Now, he just stared at me, his brown eyes on mine, shifting back and forth slightly to take in the look on my face. His hand was still deep in my hair, but he didn’t tug it aggressively. Seconds passed, but his intensity never waned. “I love you.” The silence that followed those words was heavier than the words themselves. He said with such confidence and sincerity that it was obvious it wasn’t something he blurted out in the heat of the moment. He’d felt this way for a while, and now he’d chosen to say it.

My hands stroked up his chest as my heart started to pound right against my rib cage, my pulse loud and vibrating, making my entire body shake. There was a moment of terror, as if those words were painful like a knife to the back. But then all those sensations passed because they weren’t real. My previous life was behind me, all the numbness, all the fear. I was a new person now, my broken heart healed, my trust already placed in this man’s hands. My eyes started to water as my hands moved to his neck, my arms hooking around and bringing him closer, our foreheads touching. “I love you too.”

He closed his eyes before he released a quiet breath. His other hand tunneled into my hair, and he held himself on top of me, the special moment continuing even when the words were part of the past.

His mouth pressed a gentle kiss to mine before he raised his head back and looked into my face once more, a brand-new look in his eyes, like he was a brand-new man, complete because of the words I echoed back to him.

His thumb caught one tear as it dripped from the corner of my eye toward my ear. He smeared it away before his hand gripped my thigh and pinned it into place, his mouth moving over mine in a slow kiss.

He tilted his hips and guided himself inside, slowly, gently, deeply.

It was like our first time…because it was our first time.

We were different people.

Both vulnerable, both honest, both real.

My hands moved into his hair, and I kissed him as he made love to me, as he rocked me gently into the bed and took every piece of my heart for himself, to protect, to care for. Other women had been in this bed before me, but I knew I was the only one who mattered. I was the only one he’d taken like this, the only one he whispered those words to.

I hadn’t thought I could ever feel this raw emotion, not after the way I’d been ripped apart. I’d been numb, unable to feel anything ever again. When you were broken like that, you never put yourself back together; you never felt anything so intense for another person.

But it happened…and it was stronger than before.

The Man I Thought I Loved (Two-Faced #2) - E. L. Todd Page 0,75

Main menu