Page 18

Zoe

Coast’s hands went to either side of my face as his lips pressed harder, sending little shockwaves of need through me.

Suddenly, every little fantasy I’d had about that very moment fell woefully short.

Coast kissed how he lived: hard, deep, with everything within him.

As for me? I melted into it, into him.

My hands rose to his sides, gathering up his tee, then sliding underneath, needing to feel his skin on mine.

Coast made that rumbling sound against my lips at the feel of my fingers.

Emboldened, I let them glide around to his back, moving up his warm skin.

Coast’s lips slanted over mine again, pressure bruising, and I couldn’t help but get pulled into the current of him.

His teeth nipped my lower lip, dragging a low moan out of me.

His hands were roaming then, brushing down the sides of my neck, over my shoulders, down my arms. One slipped inward, undoing the buttons of my pajama top.

A shiver moved through me and I had no way of knowing if it was from the chill in the room against my exposed skin, or the heat of my desire as I watched Coast’s eyes grow heavy-lidded and his jaw draw tight with his own need.

Finished with the buttons, his fingertip traced the slice of skin up from my waistband to between my breasts.

Then, before I could suck in a breath, his hand moved in, covering my breasts, dragging a shocked gasp out of me at my soft skin against his rough palm.

Coast leaned down, his lips going to my neck. His tongue slipped out to brush over my pulse point as his thumb started to work little circles around my nipple until it was straining, until I was arching into his touch, silently begging for more.

He gave me that, his thumb and forefinger rolling my nipple until I was letting out desperate, soft sighs.

His other hand rose, continuing the sweet torment until I felt like a live wire—vibrating with need. Something volatile, dangerous.

And those were things that Coast loved most.

His tongue traced down the column of my throat, slipped down between my breasts, trailed down my belly.

Heat pooled in my core as his warm breath tickled my skin.

All I could do was focus on him: the roughness of his hands, the softness of his hair, the orange and vetiver scent that clung to him.

His hands touched my ankles then slid upward—over my calves, the backs of my knees, my thighs.

My breath was coming in quick, shallow puffs as his fingertips teased across the hem of my shorts before slipping upward, grabbing the waistband of my shorts and panties, then slowly dragging them down.

My belly swooped as the material slid to my feet.

I stepped out of them automatically as Coast’s lips kissed across my lower stomach.

My hand slid down, threading through his soft hair.

My legs parted as he kissed down my upper thigh.

His head turned in.

And there was a sharp bite that had a surprised gasp escaping me.

But Coast took the opportunity to turn inward, sliding his tongue up my cleft. The pain/pleasure mixture had my thighs shaking and my system short-circuiting, not sure which sensation to focus on more.

As Coast’s tongue flicked over my clit, though, it was easy for my body to laser in on that sensation.

My thighs trembled as his tongue started to work me in slow, gentle circles, making my fingers curl tighter in his hair as my hips writhed against him.

God, it had been so, so long.

And Coast was every bit as good as I’d imagined. Better.

His hand slid down my thigh to my knee, lifting it, and putting my leg over his shoulder before sneaking back up and sinking into my ass.

Everything fell away then as I fell into him. All the fears, anxiety, stress, sadness, and betrayal from the past year. All of the self-doubt and uncertainty.

All that was left was sensation.

And something sneaky, scary, but spectacular.

Hope .

And for just the moment, I was going to let myself feel it.

Coast’s other hand sneaked between us, tracing the seam of my thigh, then moving between. His fingers tapped against the entrance of my body, getting soft mewling sounds out of me until finally, they slid inside.

Against my clit, Coast groaned as my walls tightened around his fingers.

That seemed to be his undoing, the last snip to the final thread of his self-control.

Suddenly, his tongue was flicking up and down my clit faster, harder, as his fingers thrust into me to match the pace.

He had me at the precipice, gasping, stumbling, tripping, calling, crashing.

The orgasm surged through me, leaving me crying out as my thighs shook, as my fingers curled tighter in Coast’s hair, as the pleasure seized me over and over.

Coast’s head shifted, kissing my inner thigh, across my hip, up my ribs, over my breasts.

When his lips met my neck again, his hands were both sinking into my ass, pulling, lifting. He paused, waiting for my legs to wrap around him.

Then he was turning and walking toward the bed, lowering me down, his chest to mine, but his weight suspended over me as his lips claimed mine.

He kissed me long and deep, leaving tingles that started to burn as the moments passed and the need bloomed again.

But then, suddenly, he was moving away, standing, and looking down at me.

There was hunger in his eyes, I was sure of it.

But then he was turning and walking away. Toward the playard.

I fretted for a second that I’d been so wrapped up that I hadn’t heard her fussing.

But Coast kicked up the locks, then rolled the whole damn thing into the bathroom, where he closed the door.

His look was sheepish as he moved back toward me to stand at the foot of the bed.

He reached back, pulling his shirt off.

“Felt weird about doing this with her in the room,” he admitted, tossing the shirt before letting his hands drift down to the waistband of his jeans.

But before he could undo them himself, I folded up, letting my hands slide around his hips to his ass, pulling him closer between my thighs so I could do the job for him.

His gaze was fiery as my hands grazed across the waistband of his pants, getting distracted by the array of tattoos up his sides, tracing the edges of them with curious fingertips. His muscles twitched at the gentle touch, and his breath got faster and more shallow.

As my fingers traced over fifteen arrows right over his ribcage, I decided I wanted to know the stories of each image inked into his skin.

Did they have meaning?

Were they just evidence of some fun, drunken night somewhere?

I had to know.

But it was certainly not the time, with Coast’s labored breath, with his body tight as a bow.

My hands drifted back down.

My gaze flicked up to his as my fingers undid his button. The intensity that looked down at me had my belly quivering.

I worked his zipper down, then pushed the material down off his hips.

A smile tugged at my lips to find him completely bare underneath. Because he was exactly that kind of chaotic and careless. Couldn’t even be bothered to put on underwear in his haste to get dressed.

It gave me one less barrier to have to deal with.

My hand teased up his thigh as I leaned forward, my hair tickling over his skin, dragging a little shiver out of him just before my hand closed around his length, stroking him to the base.

His rumble of need had my own ratcheting up as I teased my tongue across the head of his cock.

Coast’s hand slapped down on my shoulder, fingers curling in, almost to the point of bruising.

His fragile grip on his self-control only made me want to make him lose it completely.

My lips closed around him, sucking down his length.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand slipping up my shoulder to thread into the hair at the base of my neck, curling it around his fist as I started to slide up and down his cock.

His groans and hisses of pleasure had me working him faster, taking him deeper, wanting him to know the same pleasure he’d shown me.

But before I could get that, his hand was twisting in my hair, sending little currents of pain across my scalp until I had no choice but to move back, to let him slide from between my lips.

His eyes were stormy pools as he arched my head back then reached out to run his thumb across my lower lip.

His hand released my hair.

Then he was leaning down, grabbing me behind the knees, and tossing me back on the mattress.

Amusement and desire mingled as I bounced.

But as he grabbed then rolled on protection, all I felt was need clawing at me.

Coast climbed up on the bed near my feet, lips pressing in at the side of my ankle, calf, knee, thigh, hip, then up my belly.

Every inch of me felt like it was buzzing, sizzling, sparking into a fire that threatened to blaze through me completely.

His hair danced over my skin as his tongue traced up my neck just before his lips claimed mine.

His weight pressed down on me. Heavy, comforting, welcome. And my arms and legs went around him automatically, wanting him close, refusing to let him go.

His lips bruised into mine. Mine pressed back in turn.

Then his hips were grinding down, and his thick length glided against my cleft, dragging a deep moan from me as my hips rocked up into the sensation, needing more.

Coast gave me what I needed, moving his hips in a rocking motion, driving me effortlessly up as his tongue teased mine.

My nails dug lines down his back as my heels dug into his ass, using him as leverage to press harder against him, to get more of what my body was crying out for.

Coast’s lips ripped from mine as his hips dipped, then surged, thrusting deep into me with one hard stroke that had my moan catching in my throat.

“Fuck,” Coast groaned, resting his forehead against mine, trying to find some control.

I didn’t want him to.

I wanted him wild and reckless.

I wanted him in his purest form.

My walls clenched around him as I rocked restlessly against him.

“Give me a minute here,” he murmured, leaning down to nip my earlobe. “You feel too fucking good.” My hips rocked up further, dragging a desperate groan out of him. “Trying to take my time with you.”