Page 21 of Forbidden Confessions, Volume 2 (The Forbidden Volumes #1)

Vanessa

S omething wet and rough drags its way up my forehead. Then again across my nose. I groan and peel one eye open. I find myself looking into curious blue eyes.

“Kitty Pie,” I croak.

She needs to go back to sleep. Doesn’t she know it’s Saturday?

I send the clock a side-eyed glance. Definitely too early to be awake.

The sun isn’t even up. But Kitty Pie doesn’t care about my beauty rest. She jumps onto my hip, then walks up my side to sit on my shoulder and purr in my ear.

And since she’s cleaned one part of my face, she moves in to start another.

My adorable furball wants food or attention. Or both.

“All right,” I sigh as I pet her, then roll out of bed.

Half-awake, I stumble through the still-shadowy room, make use of the bathroom, then brush my teeth. It’s probably a good thing I’m up. Besides, I’ll have more time to read!

But as I head back into my bedroom to grab my e-reader from my nightstand, the hunk of musky man in my personal space stops me short.

Is that Rush Garrison lying in my bed?

The dawning sun just beginning to seep in behind my drapes tells me yes. It actually is.

Suddenly, I’m fully awake. My heart pumps furiously. OMG, he spent the night here. In my house. In my bed. What did we do, and why can’t I remember any of it? Damn it, I want to. It was epic, right? It had to be…

I scan my memories through my wine-induced haze and one memory penetrates immediately. There are just some things a girl will never forget, no matter how much booze she imbibes.

I think of you. I want you. I dream of you. I masturbate to thoughts of you. I would love to kiss you. I ache to spread you out on this kitchen counter and make you scream my name. And I would kill to fuck you .

Rush said all that. To me . It wasn’t a dream.

Yes, and what did I do? I freaking passed out.

Brilliant.

At my feet, Kitty Pie rubs against my ankles, darting between them as she looks up at me with a mournful meow. So I make a mad dash to the kitchen and open a can of kitten food. She’s right on my heels.

“I don’t know how you eat this,” I tell my feline as I scoop the food into her bowl. “It smells horrible.”

But she’s incredibly happy as she dives in face-first, apparently not caring about my opinion.

When I drop the spoon in the kitchen sink, I spy my missing knife. When did that turn up? Where?

Does it matter right now? Super-hot Rush Garrison is lying in your bed and he’s dying to have sex with you. What are you waiting for?

The punch line, I guess. But maybe there isn’t one.

I hustle back down the hall and spot Rush coming out of my bathroom, wearing an expression I can’t decipher.

But then, I can’t think because I realize the only other thing he’s wearing is a pair of dark boxers.

The rest of him is all hair-roughened bulges and inked muscle.

His shoulders look as if they could hold up the world and still have strength to spare.

The solid breadth of his wide chest narrows to his abs that have so many packs I lose count—along with my ability to speak.

My mouth hangs open as my gaze keeps drifting down.

Everything about him is so male and naked.

And hard. There’s no denying he’s excited to see me.

I swallow.

“Vanessa?”

I’m gawking, and he knows it. How mortifying.

I manage—somehow—to wrench my glance down to the floor. “Morning.”

My feet come into focus, along with something totally horrifying—my nipples.

Before I fell asleep last night, I tossed on the first thing I could find, an old, threadbare cami—and not a single other stitch.

It’s plain. It’s white. And under the light filtering out of the bathroom, it’s basically transparent.

Kill me now.

I risk a glance around the room to see if there’s a robe in sight. All I find is Rush scanning me up and down, his eyes flaring hot as his stare brands between my legs, singes my breasts, then fastens on my own. “Morning.”

Oh, god. Everything about him arouses me. I can’t breathe.

What is he thinking? Wanting? Did he really mean those words he growled at me last night?

How do I respond? Indecision grips me. Cover up my feelings and hide…or go for it?

I know what I want.

“Vanessa.” He swallows as if he’s trying to say something difficult. “We need to talk.”

Of course. He’s changed his mind. He wants to tell me his come-on was merely the wine talking. Or that he was simply horny. Or that he only said what he thought would take my mind off everything traumatic yesterday.

But I don’t want to hear whatever bad news he feels the need to break. If this is my one chance, despite the fact we work together and I only know what I’m doing because I read some really hot books, I’m going to give this my all.

“Can it wait?”

He looks confused. Then his stare rakes me again. His hands curl into fists. “Is something wrong?”

“No. But I need to…” What? Plead with him to forget that, until last night, he was merely my co-worker who never showed a bit of interest in me? “Never mind. I can’t say this with words.”

Before I lose my nerve, I stomp in his direction, plaster my body against his, and stand on my tiptoes to circle my arms around his neck. For the second time in my life, I impulsively press my lips to his.

He freezes. I feel his surprise. It takes him a moment, and I’m so afraid he’ll push me away that my heart starts aching as it trips in my chest.

But Rush doesn’t. An instant later, he recovers from being startled—with a vengeance.

Suddenly, his fingers are in my hair, tugging me right where he wants me. Then he slants his lips over mine, takes control, and surges into my mouth with a hungry growl.

He’s everywhere—against my tongue, tugging on my scalp, heating my breasts, and prodding the hard rod of his erection between my legs.

I’m dizzy, my head spinning, as he bends enough to reach around me, grab my thighs, and lift me against his body.

I gasp into his kiss as my legs automatically anchor around his hips and I feel every inch of him against my sex.

Oh. My. God.

I wriggle against him. Need blooms between my legs and jets heady arousal through my veins. It’s intoxicating. It’s wonderful. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

Before I writhe against him again, Rush tosses me on the bed and follows me down into the cloud of the soft quilt, breathing rough. “I’ve been dying to do that for so long.”

He captures my nipple—cami and all—into his mouth and sucks hard. My arousal turns sharp, jolting straight between my legs. I need. What is he doing to me?

“Is that a yes?” I manage to whimper.

“Tell me this is what you want.” He palms my breast, breathing hard. “I told you I’d ruin you. I meant it.”

It’s so difficult to think when his thumb brushes against my nipple back and forth, the rhythm almost hypnotic. But I don’t have to think about it. If I’m being honest, I have more than a crush on him. I’m half in love, and even if he walks away, I’ll have one amazing memory.

“I don’t care. I want you to.” I look into his eyes, which go from dark to impossibly black. “Ruin me. I’m sure. Don’t hold back.”

“Jesus, you don't know what you’re asking for. Vanessa…” he groans—a sound I feel all the way to the throbbing flesh between my legs. “I want you so bad, I can barely fucking breathe.”

“I feel the same,” I breathe.

“I need to see you,” he rasps, his hands spanning my waist. “All of you. I’ve imagined this so many times.” He trails kisses down my throat, across my collarbone, taking his time like he’s savoring every inch, before he murmurs words that make me melt against my skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His mouth finds my other breast while his hands explore, and I arch beneath him, desperate for more contact. “Rush, please…”

“One last question: Is this just a casual fuck to you?”

Is he serious?

His hard expression tells me he’s not going any further until I answer him. What is he looking for?

“Do you want it to be?”

Rush glowers. “I’m asking the questions. Does this mean more to you than sex?”

I still don’t know what the “right” answer is, so I might as well be honest. Besides, if we keep going, he’s going to figure this out anyway. “Yes. It means a lot to me.”

Everything…

“The sex does? Or I do?”

If he’s worried I’m already falling for him, he should be. “You do. I want to be with you…and no one else. I’m a?—”

But I don’t get a chance to finish telling him about my total lack of experience before he cuts me off with a kiss.

As I drown in the way he makes love to my mouth, he tears off my cami and tugs away his boxers, tossing both to the floor.

Then somehow, he’s between my spread legs and the blunt head of his cock is butting impatiently against my slick folds.

He lifts his lips, panting hard as he studies my face. “This means a lot to me, too. You mean everything. I want you to know that. You’re worth whatever happens next.”

I’m not sure what he means by that, but it makes me gooey. It makes me sound important to him, like he would move mountains and destroy obstacles to be with me. “Rush…”

His hands map my body like he’s memorizing every curve, every reaction. “I’ve dreamed of touching you like this.” His mouth finds my neck, my collarbone. “I’ve watched you and imagined having you beneath me, around me, taking me so fucking deep.”

His words alone make me tremble, my heart lurch. “Show me everything you’ve imagined.”

“Are you sure? Once I have you, there’s no pretending this didn’t happen. No going back to the way things were.”

“I don’t want to go back. I want this. I want you.”

“What were you saying earlier?” He cups my face, looking as if the moments it takes to wait for my answer are so protracted they’re painful. “You’re…what?”

Honestly, with him on top of me, moments away from making me his, I don’t remember what I was going to say. And is there anything more important right now than him being inside me?

I shake my head. “Nothing.”