Page 33 of Delta

You can't like me. I'm a bastard. I'm ruining your life. I'm fucking you over. Can't you see it? Can't you sense it?

All I say, though, is: "I've got you, love."

Not a lie. I do have her. Just…not how she thinks.

We board the train for Lyon forty-five minutes later.

Within ten minutes of leaving the station, she's nodding off.

Her head slowly tilts toward me. Rests on my shoulder. I don't like how this feels: right. Perfect. Good. Warm in my chest. Hot in my belly. Boiling in my balls. Just her—her scent, her warmth, her courage.

I hate myself for this. I think I always will.

The world is a cruel, unfair place. Some days, I wish I hadn't made it out of Afghanistan, or any of the other places I should've and could've died.

I let my arm curl around Bryn's shoulders protectively, and I close my eyes and I let myself pretend that we're a couple heading to Lyon for a holiday. Me and my girl.

I doze off.

When I bolt awake, Bryn's head is on my lap and she's curled up in a tight little ball on the seat beside me. Fuck, this is bad. Too close. Too real. Too tempting.

Her eyes flutter, lift to mine. Soft brown like pools of melted chocolate. She's got a bit of drool at the corner of her lip.

I brush it away with my thumb, and her cheeks darken with a blush. The tips of her ears, too. Fuckin' adorable. Turns my heart to goo.

She slides upright, staying close to me. Pushed against me. Her tits are firm against my chest, her breath hot on my cheek, my chin.

No, girl, no. Bad plan. The face is a lie. The looks hide a black soul. Don't believe me.

I'm a horrible piece of shit, though.

I don't stop her.

Don't move.

I pull her closer. My hand slides down her back, rests on her waist. Glides to her hip. A soft breath leaves her plump lips when I palm her ass—and my god, what an ass. Taut as a drum, a nice big handful each spot, plump and juicy. Just perfect. Like the rest of her.

God, I'm a monster: I fucking kiss her.

Her mouth is warm and wet and soft and inviting; from the first touch of my lips to hers, I'm gone. My cock goes hard as a steel beam instantly, and when she lets out a quiet groan as my tongue traces across her lips, my cock throbs, twitches. She stretches against me, hands winding around my neck, fingers scraping against the shaved skin at the back of my head.

Bryn twists into me, pressing a thigh over my crotch, resting the weight of it on my hard, aching cock. The friction and pressure are a tantalizing tease, ripping a soft snarl from me. I flex against her, driving myself against her leg, clawing my hand into the curve of her ass. And just like that, she's straddling me on the bench, both hands on the back of my head, cupping, fingers dimpling, nails softly scratching.

No one's ever held me like this while kissing me—so intimately, with such tender affection, as if…I don't know. It makes my heart pound and my stomach fall away and rise into my throat all at once, makes my hunger for her naked body ravenous and undeniable.

I shift her so she's straddling my thigh, pressing her center against my quad. Plunge my tongue into her mouth and devour her whimper, grab her ass in both of my hands and grind her against my leg. Her whimper becomes a groan, and she breaks the kiss, gasping as she rocks on my thigh, seeking the right combination of friction and pressure.

She removed her jacket and jumper when we settled into our compartment, so when her t-shirt rides up with her movement, it bares the skin at the small of her back. My hands find that sliver of warmth and seek more. Skate up her back, roaming from shoulders to small and back. Her jeans gap at the back as she leans into me, and my hands, without consulting me first, dive into the space between garment and body, finding her lush, firm flesh. I groan in wonder and delight at the way her ass fills my hands.

Her gasps are hoarse and quiet as she rocks against my leg; I press up against her movement, give her something to move against. Meet her rocking rhythm, helping her move with my hands on the bare flesh of her ass, her mouth slipping and sliding against mine with stuttering, gasping kisses.

Harder, faster.

Fuck, she's going to come.

My cock pulsates with arousal, aches, crushed and bent against the prison of my zipper. I'd do any manner of horrible things to have her hands wrapped around me, or better yet, that sweet, sassy, sarcastic mouth. I dare not even dream of having her ride me, having her pussy clamping down on me as we come together.

She rocks on my leg, her kisses going staccato, pausing as she loses focus on the kiss to zero in on her building climax.