Page 172 of Positively Pricked

I had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded oh so good – and eerily familiar, because there was a part of me – a very shameless part of me – that had been feeling the same way for longer than I'd ever admit, even to myself.

But I refused to dwell on that now, because this had been one of the most wonderful days of my life, and it was getting better with every stroke, every whispered word, every motion of his fingers as they made love to me on that giant bed of his.

And then, just when I thought I couldn't wait another minute, he was tugging down my panties, even as I frantically worked to free his body from his briefs. Soon, he was poised above me, with his thumb still in motion, and his gaze on mine.

I reached between us, guiding his massive hardness to my opening, and then gave a moan of contentment when he finally entered me, claiming me like he'd already claimed the world.

Soon, I was lost to everything but him – his body moving with my own, his hands caressing my skin, his back muscles shifting in time to our motions.

I ran my hands down his sides, up his back, and through his hair, feeling like I couldn’t get enough, even as he filled me almost to the point of bursting. When we reached our peak, he held me in his arms for the longest time, almost like he never wanted to let go.

If that was the case, he wasn't the only one.

And when wedidlet go? It was only to run a steaming hot bath in his massive whirlpool tub. Together, we lingered, chatting and laughing until the water grew cold and we grew hot – for each other, that is.

When the first hint of dawn began creeping through the windows, I drifted off, more satisfied than I'd ever been in my whole life.

And it was all because of him – Zane Bennington, the guy who was impossible to figure out, especially a couple of hours later, when reality came calling in the form of too many people I'd been hoping to forget.