sends a flash of heat through his eyes.
“The life you would have with me … it’s not one you’d want. There are … things you don’t know, Lily. Things you’d hate me for.”
“How many times do you have to nearly die for it to get through? I have no life without you,” I whisper, searching his eyes as tears pool in mine.
And that’s when he pushes into me, so painfully good that I moan low in my throat.
Bowen pins me, holds me open for him as he impales me over and over again. Nothing about this is gentle or slow, and I love it. We’re frenzied, having ten years of pent up sexual tension and heartbreak will do that to two people.
With each stroke, each grunt, each loll of my head onto his shoulder, the chokehold on my heart eases.
“Lily …” Bowen’s voice is a plea.
I’m so close, my clit rubbing against the rough hair at the base of his cock. Every time he seats himself fully inside of me, I shudder with the sharp stab of pleasure/pain.
“Bowen.” I could say his name forever if he promises never to let this end.
I don’t want to think about what happens when this ends.
He picks up speed if that’s even possible because he was already jackhammering into me with precision. But now he’s practically making a dent in the wall with my body, and I may bruise tomorrow but right now it feels so exquisite that I don’t care.
“Don’t stop. Never stop,” I chant, my words meant to be about way more than just sex.
Bowen’s lips close around a nipple, pulling the peak with his teeth, and I’m gone.
My thighs tighten in his big hands, and the sensations take over my body. They rob me of all five senses, and I ride the climax greedily. I haven’t felt this euphoric in a decade.
My forehead meets Bowen’s shoulder, and just as my orgasm begins to subside, he sets it off again as he comes with a loud growl that rips through the silence of the night.
He’s like a wild animal, calling his mate with a sound only meant for her ears. It has me choking on words I can’t say.
So instead, I hang on, my arms tightening after we’re done.
I’m not ready to let go again.
19
Bowen
In the moment before I’d kissed her, I knew it was a terrible idea.
I should have never turned around, never run off my front porch, never slammed my mouth down on hers and broken the thread holding my resolve together.
Because now that it was broken, there was no going back.
I’d tasted her, had said things that were now branded onto my heart. I’d looked into her eyes as she came undone and it was like watching my whole purpose come into focus.
Everything made sense when I was with Lily. I had been put on this earth, in Fawn Hill, to fall in love with her.
Less than a month ago, her father had walked into my barbershop and threatened my livelihood and my family if I went anywhere near her. The thought had flitted through my head as I was stomping toward her on the sidewalk, but the bottom had already fallen out. I was already tumbling, unable to stop what was inevitably about to happen.
Last night was a blur. We started in the hallway, smashed against the wall opposite my front door, and didn’t stop until my bed sheets were ripped halfway off the mattress and our bodies were too weak to keep going.
As I blink open my eyes, the harsh sunlight illuminating the reality of what just happened, I survey the damage.
“It looks like a bomb went off in here.” Lily sighs as she turns over, her thin arm draping across my abs.
“You read my mind.” I swallow the lump in my throat, both from sleep and emotion.
“I guess that’s what happens after ten years of waiting.” She chuckles.
Her eyes are still closed, those long dark lashes fanning over her sun-kissed cheeks. Long locks of chocolate-colored hair curl over my pillows, and besides the smile gracing her lips, she wears nothing else.
I can’t help the hands that smooth up and down her back and the thigh thrown over my leg. Last night in the entryway was a bad idea. So was bringing her upstairs. So was the third time I pushed inside of her, around four a.m.
And now here we are, waking up together in my bed, pretending like we don’t have a mountain of issues to