Page 16 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

“Shhh, baby, don't get so mad. I believe you.” I mutter as my lips barely brush against hers before instantly moving to her cheek and down to her jaw.

“No, you don't! Jack didn't either. This is why I don't tell anyone anything. You're all the same.”

Even if her words come out as a whispered growl, catching in her throat, they create an ache in my chest.

“I believe you,” I say softly this time. She hasn't told anyone else, and now that I have the timeline, I can see who was on guard that day. This realization eases a weight off my chest, allowing me to focus solely on how her skin feels beneath my lips.

“Tell me one of your secrets, then. Something no one believed when you shared it.” She gasps as I place a gentle kiss on her pulse point.

My hands shift—one moving into her hair, tilting her head back to give me more access, and the other finding her waist to reposition her so I can slip my leg between hers.

Humming in contemplation, I shift more of her weight against my leg. She's already so warm, and I can't help but nudge her slightly, making her hips roll as I flex my muscle.

“I wasn't fazed when…” I pause, considering my word choice before placing another lazy, open-mouthed kiss on the column of her throat. I wish it were those mesmerizing lips, but beggars can’t be choosers. “When I found out that my biological mother and grandfather were murdered.”

I swallow hard, wanting to bare everything to her. I’m sure she would listen, or at least pretend to. If I told her every nitty-gritty detail, she might be overwhelmed, but I know I’d be able to hold onto her. God, I fucking hate this world.

"Biological?" she says quietly, and I chuckle softly against her skin. Of course, that's what she focuses on. My fingers slide over the exposed skin at her hip and slip under the high hem of her crop top.

"I'm adopted. "

"So the man who comes with you sometimes—the one with the brown-haired girl?" I take a deep breath, taking in her question and memorizing her scent.

"He's my adopted brother, and that's his fiancée."

"What about..." she trails off as my thumb brushes the underwire of her bra. "What about your dad?"

“Don't know him.”

She lets out a defeated huff, and her fingers slip into the hairs on the back. of my head. “Your adopted parents then? What about them?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t stop me as I tug at the fabric and pull her shirt over her head. I don't want to think about anything else right now; I just want to focus on the gorgeous woman before me, unfazed by the cool air that causes goosebumps to rise across her smooth skin.

“Hopefully, they're somewhere beautiful. I think they would have liked you,” I whisper as I place a kiss on her chest. Her fingers thread into my hair, and she takes a sharp breath.

I half expect her to laugh or tell me I’m being too much again, that it’s too intimate—but she doesn’t. And that might be what wrecks me the most.

Because when I close my eyes, I can see my mom smiling widely, embarrassing me in front of Raylen with every dumb story she can dig up. I can see my dad throwing his head back in that full-belly laugh of his when Raylen makes a jab at me.

It’s been years since I remembered them like that… happy.

Alive .

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I don’t say anything back. Not because I don’t mean it, but because she doesn’t realize that I should be the one thanking her—for the calm, for the quiet, for making me feel like a man and not a fucking monster .

My lips trail lower, skimming along the soft curve of her breast, and my fingers find the waistband of her shorts. She steps back, silent permission, and I slide them down.

“Sorry, sunshine,” I say with a crooked grin, “but I think I’m done with questions.”

She tries not to smile but fails, her smirk betraying her. And then I see it—she’s not wearing any underwear. My jaw flexes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I groan, licking my bottom lip, dragging my eyes up her bare thighs, over the glistening, shaved mound between them

She shrugs and unclasps her bra, voice purring with dark amusement. “I didn't want to risk another pair being ripped.”

In an instant, my arm wraps around her waist, and I twist our bodies until she’s seated on the edge of the bench.

For some odd reason, I feel frozen, keeping my face so close to hers as she hurriedly works on my belt.

My focus flicks over her features, taking in every small expression she makes.

She’s too gorgeous for me—too pure, yet she wants to act otherwise.

She deserves someone who would lay her down in bed and kiss every inch of her skin until it’s engraved in her mind just how perfect she is.

But I’m a selfish man, and if this is the only way I can have her, then I’ll take it every single time.

“Moe,” sShe whines, and my jaw clenches at the soft plea in her voice.

“Shh, baby. Patience.” I mutter as my mouth finds its way back to her throat, my teeth skimming the flesh ever so lightly.

It's just a tease, only a taste. I want her to feel it.

I need to know that I'm not the only one in this storm that brews between us.

Her hand dips into my boxers and frees me, and fuck, I nearly lose it.

My hips nudge her legs wider, cock brushing against her slick heat as I guide her down against the worn bench, the wood creaking under us.

She flinches slightly, but not from discomfort—just surprise.

“What are you doing?” She pants as my cock slowly brushes her soaked entrance .

“Enjoying you,” I say, brushing my nose against her throat. I groan as I push inside her tight heat, her body arching as I stretch her open.

“Fuck, you feel good. Let me make you feel the same.” I nip her nipple, tugging gently, and she moans so loudly it echoes down the hillside. I bottom out with a ragged breath, letting her adjust as her walls pulse around me.

I don’t want to ruin her. I want to worship her. My hands roam greedily—her thighs, her hips, her ribs. I mark her with my mouth, red patches blooming on her skin from where I’ve bit and sucked, unable to stop.

“You're going too slow.” She whines.

I slide one hand under her thigh and hike it higher around my waist, bracing myself against the bench. I draw out slowly, then thrust again—deep, slow, dragging every inch through her until she whimpers.

“I know,” I whisper, pulling away from her skin long enough to look at her greedy cunt sucking me deeper. “Fuck.”

I brace my palm on the table, my knuckles curling into the splintered wood. The view is almost too much—the tight slick heat of her wrapped around me like a vice, her breasts bouncing with every motion, and her mouth open in breathless moans.

“Moe…” It sounds like a warning falling from her lips, even if it's broken and hoarse, pulling my attention back to hers. She’s perfect.

She always has been. But this? Her, like this—wrapped around me, skin glowing with heat, lips parted and eyes heavy with need as they focus on the sky—this is a kind of perfection I never knew I could touch.

“Look at me, baby,” I breathe against her lips. “Let me see what I do to you.”

My lips barely graze hers before she turns her head, and my jaw clenches.

Her hands are in my hair again, trying to pull my mouth back to her neck, but I know that skin like the back of my hand by now.

The spot just below her ear makes her shoulders tense and her back arch, while the hollow of her throat has her biting her lip.

“Raylen,” I say a little more sternly this time, and she lets out an aggravated growl that makes my hips snap harder than I intended. She growls in frustration, lashes fluttering as her head tilts back, exposing her throat.

“I’m not being too rough, am I?” I ask, hesitating.

“You’re not being rough enough,” she huffs. “Stop being so—”

I cut her off, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at me.

She hesitates, her eyes going wide, her body tensing in a way that makes me groan just as hard as it makes my heart hammer.

I did something wrong; I can tell I did.

My thumb soothes over her jaw, eyes flicking between hers, but just as quickly as that panic flashed over her features, it disappears into a scowl.

“So sweet,” She snarls, and I let out a bitter laugh with a shake of my head as she squirms, trying to get me to move again. “It’s not what we agreed to.”

There it is. The thing that shatters me. Agreed to. Like, this is a business deal. Her hand raises to mine, gripping around it until she's forcing my fingers into her jaw hard enough her molars form through the flesh.

“Damn you,” I whisper, pulling back to slam into her hard enough to rattle the bench. Her mouth drops open in a silent cry.

“Is this what you want?” I snarl, fingers biting into her jaw, the harder she grips them. “You want me to fuck you like a whore?”

“God Moe, yes.” She whines and my composure wavers. She looks good like this, eyes watering with each deep rough thrust I force into her—but it’s not what I wanted. That thought only irritates me more. Why can’t she just let me—

“Take it off please.” She begs, reaching for my shirt. I lean back and smack her hand away.

“No.” I growl. If she would’ve asked me a few moments ago I probably would’ve—I would’ve shown her every inch of me and given her all the answers she’d need about my battered skin but obviously we’re still not on the same page.

“Keep your hands to yourself and take my cock. That’s all you want anyway isn’t it?” I taunt and she grins. She fucking grins . I’m supposed to be pissed but the sight has my dick swelling, a string of curses falling from my mouth.

My thrusts become more desperate and sloppy as I focus on her cunt sucking me back in. I can’t look at her right now—if I do I’ll fucking fall apart like some love sick puppy. I hate that she does this to me–that she makes me want to show her all of myself; the good, the bad, the real.

She flinches. “Please—I want—”