Page 21 of Broken Dream (Steel Legends #3)

Chapter Eighteen

Jason

The primal need I feel for Angie is something I’ve never experienced before. It’s raw and powerful, a force of nature that sweeps me up and threatens to overwhelm me entirely. It’s terrifying yet exhilarating, a heady mix of fear and desire.

Her eyes are wide as she watches me. She’s beautiful, utterly breathtaking in her trust. The sight of her nudges at the beast inside me.

The beast…

Fuck, it’s been so long.

She tasted like heaven, and the way she came for me…

So responsive. Like no other.

I guide myself to her pussy, teasing her with the tip. Her thighs tighten around my waist in response, a small whimper escaping from her parted lips.

Then I thrust into her.

The sensation is electrifying.

She gasps at my size but then moans as I begin to move. She responds, meeting every thrust with an eager push of her hips.

“Jason,” she moans, digging her fingers into my shoulders.

I pepper her neck with kisses as I thrust deeper and faster. Each plunge sends a wave of pleasure rippling through me.

God, it’s been so long.

So fucking long.

She sucks me in so perfectly, as if she was made only for me.

She wraps her legs tighter around my waist, pulling me deeper into her. I can feel her muscles tighten around me as she nears another climax.

I don’t stop moving even as she writhes beneath me, her body shaking with pleasure. Her release only spurs me on, and I continue to thrust into her, seeking my own climax.

“Angie,” I grunt out, the heat building in the pit of my stomach.

“Jason.” She pulls me down, crashing her lips onto mine and muddling our moans together.

That’s all it takes for me to tip over the edge. With a deep shudder, I spill into her, my body going rigid as waves of pleasure crash over me. The world blurs around the edges, all sounds fading into a distant hum.

I’m coming.

Coming inside a woman.

A beautiful woman.

But a woman who’s not my wife.

Slowly, reality begins to seep back in.

I pull out.

She’s still smiling with a look of pure and hazy contentment on her beautiful face.

Oh my God.

What have I done?

We’re in her kitchen.

I didn’t even take her into the bedroom.

I look down at my dick, still wrapped in the condom.

It was inside another woman.

Lindsay was my first. I didn’t have sex until I was in college. Late bloomer, I guess. I’ve never been inside another woman before.

And I chose Angie. A student. A twenty-three-year-old student.

The desire. The heat between us.

It was new, erotic, forbidden, and so intoxicating that I lost control. Is this how it feels to be with someone else after years of monogamy and then celibacy? To take another woman into my arms, to taste her skin, join our bodies in the best fuck of all time?

A pang of guilt stabs me.

Angie cups my cheek and scrapes her fingers against my stubble. “Jason,” she murmurs softly. Her voice is heavy with satisfaction. And with…affection?

I swallow hard, determined to mask my vulnerability. I pull away from her slowly, making sure she’s all right before adjusting myself and discarding the condom.

Reality has a nasty way of crashing in. I’ve crossed a line that should not have been crossed. She’s my student, she’s younger than I am, and she expects me to guide her through her education.

Not through this.

But what’s done is done.

I can’t turn back time and undo what just happened between us. In some twisted way, I don’t want to, either. As wrong as it may have been, being with Angie felt right—so right that it scares me.

I quickly dress, finding my clothes strewn around in the kitchen.

I need to say something to her…but what?

My heart hammers as I finally muster up the courage to look at her. She meets my gaze, her eyes still shining with warmth, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

She’s beautiful, no doubt about it.

“Angie,” I say. “This… This was…”

Was what?

A mistake? I’m not sure if I can label it as such when every nerve ending in my body is still humming with the pleasure of our encounter.

How can I find the right words?

She shushes me, placing a finger on my lips. “Don’t,” she murmurs. “Don’t spoil it with words.”

What she says has merit. How amazing would it be to just revel in the gratification?

But we can’t ignore this either.

“No,” I say. “We need to talk about this.”

She sighs, slides off the counter, and walks over to me, her naked form illuminated by the harsh kitchen lighting.

Fuck.

Gorgeous.

Perfection.

She wraps her arms around my waist and buries her face in my chest, the warmth of her breath seeping through the thin fabric of my shirt.

“Can we not talk about it tonight?” she whispers, her voice heavy with an emotion I can’t quite place. “Just for tonight, can we pretend that there’s nothing wrong with this? That we’re not teacher and student, but just…us?”

I pull her closer and tangle my fingers in her silky hair. “All right.”

But just for tonight.

Still naked, she opens the door to a panting Tillie.

Then she leads me out of the kitchen and to her bedroom.

It’s decorated in a soft feminine style.

On the wall are black-and-white posters of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, and Big Ben in London.

My stomach twists as I realize that these probably hung in her dorm room in undergrad. At least she’s bought frames for them.

I turn my attention from the posters to her bed, which is covered in light-yellow plush pillows and blankets. The sight of it, beckoning me over, almost makes me forget about the lines I just crossed.

Almost.

She slides into the bed first, her movements as graceful as a swan. Her eyes never leave mine as I strip off my shirt and toss it on a nearby chair.

“Jason.” She pats the empty spot beside her on the bed.

I walk over and sink onto the mattress, the soft fabric molding to my body as I remove the rest of the clothes I just put back on.

Angie moves closer to me, tugging at me until I’m lying down next to her.

She rests her head on my bare chest and snuggles into my side.

I instinctively wrap my arm around her and pull her closer.

As I lie there next to her, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, I can’t help but feel solace in her presence—her soft sighs and the faint rhythm of her heartbeat against my chest.

I don’t know how long we lie there, entwined in each other’s arms, but I know I could stay like this forever.

“Jason?” Angie’s soft voice breaks through the silence. “Thank you.”

Thank you?

For what?

For complicating our lives? For crossing a line that should never have been crossed?

But then I look at her face and see the sincerity shining clear in her eyes.

This isn’t about propriety or the rules we’ve broken tonight. It’s about us—two people who found solace, comfort, and an unexpected connection.

“I don’t regret anything,” she continues, her voice a whisper against my skin.

I want to echo her sentiments, tell her that I too harbor no regrets.

But something gnaws at me.

A fear.

A fear that I now yearn for Angie’s touch over Lindsay’s.

I feel like I’ve cheated on Lindsay.

But Lindsay is gone.

Dead and buried.

Unable to be helped by the practice that is Angie’s passion.

Fuck it all.

I finally desire another woman.

But she’s a student.

A future psychiatrist, of all fucking things.

Angie doesn’t seem to be concerned that I don’t answer, so I just hold her for the next hour, allow her to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Once I’m sure she’s in a deep sleep, I untangle myself from her beautiful body and dress quietly. Tillie sits next to the bed, staring at me.

“Shh,” I say to the pup.

She doesn’t bark. She’s probably glad enough to be rid of me.

I leave and return to my own place.

Where guilt and nightmares plague me.