The Vows We Break - Serena Akeroyd Page 0,44
I have to close my eyes and twist onto my back to evade the needs coursing through me.
They’re alien.
Dark.
New.
No longer attached to an ideal, but to a man. A man whose touch I crave. Who I ache to explore with my fingers and mouth.
A shaky breath escapes me, but as my chest heaves high, my nipples brush the camisole I’m wearing. I removed my skinny jeans and blouse earlier, then dragged off my bra too, leaving behind the cami I wore underneath and my panties.
I’m very aware of how little I’m wearing.
And I’m even more aware of the powerful scent of him on the sheets.
It laces every breath I take. Is deep in the air around me until I know my skin is being caressed by it, by him.
My nipples bead, budding against the cotton fabric, rasping and rubbing in a way that doesn’t appease me. If anything, it’s sweet torture.
I can’t stop myself from snapping my hand up and squeezing one of them hard.
The sharp pain makes me whimper, and I have no choice but to anoint the other side. Pinching that other nub too, I shudder, enjoying the sensation. My body itches with the need for more. Unusual and wicked urges fill me as I let my fingers drift down, slipping lower and lower until I begin to rub over the gusset of my panties.
Gnawing on my bottom lip when that sends a naughty twist of pleasure shuddering through me, I spread my legs some. Dragging the flat of two fingertips up and down the cotton makes me wet, until I can feel it through the fabric. Until I can feel my juices anointing my skin.
It’s wrong.
So wrong.
Wicked.
So wicked.
But I can’t stop myself.
I slip my fingers under my panties and touch myself in earnest.
The caress of them against my clit?
Has another low whimper escaping me.
And that’s when it all goes to hell.
A hand snaps out and grabs a firm hold of my wrist. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I jerk in response to both his words and his touch, even as I twist my head to look at him.
My hips rock of their own volition, loving the feel of his skin against mine. When he sees that, he scowls.
“Stop that!”
I bite my lip and force myself to come down, to calm down.
Closing my legs, I pull my hand away from my thighs, and I’m not altogether surprised when he keeps a tight clasp on it.
He doesn’t trust me not to do it again.
I don’t blame him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I can’t help it,” I whisper, and I know my eyes are big as I stare at him in the low light. A streetlamp pours an orange glow through the windows, and it illuminates us both in the golden hue. “You’re so beautiful, Savio. How couldn’t I?”
His mouth works for a second, and though he’s furious, and his anger has his arms all bunched up, his stomach muscles tensing as he’s surged half upright, like he’s ready to drag me off the bed and back to my room, my statement has him flopping back against the mattress.
“What am I going to do with you?” he rasps, shaking his head, rocking it so his hair tangles on the cotton pillow beneath him.
“You don’t have to do anything,” I tell him softly. “Just let me be here.”
“This is wrong,” he counters, and his hand tightens about my wrist before he starts to let go.
This time it’s me who moves.
My other hand darts out and I grasp his wrist just as he clutches mine, holding him there, not wanting to let the connection drop.
“I need you, Savio,” I whisper. “And I think you need me.”
I knew he did, but there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and pushing this, forcing him into this situation, would get us nowhere.
He doesn’t seem to be listening to me though, because he grumbles, “You’ve got blood on you.”
“You’re bleeding all over the place.” I shrug. “What’s a bit of blood between friends?”
His brow puckers. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before.”
“Good.”
Maybe he hears my jealousy, because he snorts. “I didn’t mean that as a compliment, Andrea,” he rumbles softly.
A shudder whispers through me at him saying my name for the first time. I already know I seem weird, so I try to play it casual by shrugging. “I’m taking it as one. There’s only one of me. God made perfection,” I declare cheekily, “and he didn’t want to make