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SOUNDTRACK: Fearless Pt. II by Lost Sky and Chris Linton

~ brIDGET ~

The morning after the wedding I was awakened by the sun pouring through the tall window because we’d forgotten to close the curtains.

My breath caught when I looked down at the bed and found Sam turned towards me, his face half-buried in the pillow, hair sticking in five different directions, and his cheeks stubbled with growth. The blankets had slipped down and gathered at his waist, so I was greeted with the sight of his beautiful shoulders and bare chest, one bicep curled up thick because he had the arm bent under his pillow, the other extended towards me, his hand flat on the sheet.

He was still asleep.

Deeply, sweetly asleep. And I loved it.

I’d had little chance to just look at him. So often our time was shadowed by other people, or pressures, or, you know, clothing. Last night had been amazing, but I’d been so consumed with feeling it all, I hadn’t been looking a whole lot.

So, careful not to move and disturb him, I sank into my pillow and took the opportunity to drink in the sight of… my husband. Even the thought was crazy .

A memory of him leaning over that marriage certificate the night before rocked me. He’d put the pen to the paper, then looked up at me, his eyes bright and lips pulled into a smile, before he scrawled his name.

Mine. He was really mine.

How was that possible? How did two people start as individuals, then say a few words and sign a piece of paper, then suddenly they were a unit?

What a mind fuck.

A delicious one, though.

Starting at that hand splayed on the sheets between us, I smiled and let my gaze crawl up his arms, following those tendons on the back of his hand to his wrist, mentally tracing the tattoos covering most of his arm to the shoulder. He’d obviously had work done to blend his prison ink and there were a couple I suspected were cover ups. His chest was bare of ink, but I didn’t care because it gave me a clear view of his pecs and abs, and that smattering of hair that started under his navel and trailed down…

Want fluttered low in my belly as I dragged my eyes back up his carved torso.

His body was honed. A weapon. But resting.

It struck me that he was completely vulnerable. I knew moves that would kill him if I used the right hold. I could take a knife to his throat and he’d be dead in minutes. But even after everything he’d been through—everything he’d been—he trusted me not to. He was asleep. Right there. All that muscle and strength coiled up like a snake in the sun.

I’d done the same. Trusted him. Slept like a baby. Safe.

I stiffened when the word echoed in my head. Usually it was a trigger, something that sent me spiraling into an itch to find trouble, anything.

But nothing happened.

Warily, I walked back through the thoughts in my head.

Sam was my husband.

Sam was dangerous… but not to me.

Sam trusted me.

And I trusted him.

Sam was safe.

And for the first time in my life, that thought thrilled me .

Then he stirred and I bit my lip, watching him unfurl like an animal, his body coming awake, his eyes fluttering, then opening slightly… and dragging up the bed, up my body, until they went wide and he snapped his head up off the pillow to look at me.

Our eyes locked and nerves flickered in my chest. Was he going to regret—?

“It wasn’t a dream?” His voice was deep and ragged with sleep. Heavenly.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I shook my head.

And then, because he was fucking perfect, Sam’s hand shot out to snake around my waist and yank me bodily across the bed and against him. He was coming alive.

I giggled.

I fucking giggled.

“Good morning,” I breathed.

Sam’s eyes hadn’t left mine. “Good morning,” he graveled back, then flashed me a wicked smile and rolled me onto my back, pinning me to the mattress as he plunged both hands into my hair and held my head while he plundered my mouth with a low, rolling growl in his chest.

I was giddy when his rumble vibrated against my nipples.

Throwing my arms around him and clawing fingers down his spine, I sighed into that kiss and let my head sink back, taking the kiss deeper, sucking on his tongue.

He rewarded me with another rumble, but then jerked his head up far enough to meet my eyes. I still had my nails in his back, clawed like talons. His hands were fisted in my hair.

“This is real, right?” he graveled.

“Yes,” I laughed and dug my nails deeper into his muscles. “Very, very real.” Pulling both knees up so I could hook my heels over his legs, I rolled my hips to bring us together and bit my lip when his thick length slid against me so perfectly my body twitched.

His eyes flashed and his grin pulled higher on one side. He dove back into the kiss, but kept his weight on me, pinning me to the soft mattress. On my back. Where I couldn’t fight well.

And I didn’t care .

His chest was cool to the touch where he’d been out of the blankets, but warming rapidly where we pressed together. His breath grew heavy, and the sound of his rising need fed mine.

Elbows bent to bracket my ribs, forearms under my shoulders and hands fisted in my hair, Sam took his time, his fingers tightening, pulling my head back so he could kiss his way down, slowly, tasting the skin on my jaw and my throat, nipping at the hollow at the base of my neck, his shoulders rising to accommodate as he curled himself almost in half to get low enough. But still he didn’t let me go. Every inch of my skin tingled, like feathers teasing up and down my spine, feeding out to my limbs, turning even the slightest movement into a wave of pleasure that pebbled my skin and raised the small hairs.

We both writhed, bodies seeking, hips rolling—but for the first time, there was no rush of desperation. No reason for haste. No threat of interruption or crisis that had to be met.

I wallowed in him. And he devoured my skin like a sweet treat until his kisses had me trembling.

“Sam,” I gasped as he pulled my head back even harder, sliding himself down far enough to open his mouth over one nipple, his tongue laving and flicking before he sucked it deep into his mouth, then slid off to repeat with the other one. I pulled one arm around, grabbing for his shoulder and gripping him with my nails again to stop him moving lower.

“I want you up here,” I gasped, my voice slightly strangled because he had my head levered back. “I want you inside me.”

A low chuckle rolled in his throat. “The assholes were right: Marry a girl and she gets so demanding.”

I snorted, but then sucked in hard because he’d bitten down my nipple at the same time he rolled his hips and dragged himself against me hard. My whole body flooded with sensation—skin goosebumped, pleasure jangling through me, lightening bolts from one source to the other.

Then Sam let go of my hair and slid lower on my body, gripping my ribs in his big hands so his thumbs curled in under my breasts and his fingers dug into my back.

He made me feel so small. There was a flicker in the back of my mind—the same part of me that had been worried when I thought about being safe— but it silenced as Sam’s teeth grazed that flat space at the center of my chest .

I lifted my head. If he was going down on me, I wanted to watch. I was already reaching for his hair when, without taking his mouth off of my belly, his eyes snapped up to lock with mine. I caught the smile a second before he planted his knees on the bed and pushed up to kneel.

“Sam, what—”

Then he flipped me. My whole body. A grip, and a jerk, and suddenly I was on my belly, legs and arms flailing. And Sam… Sam was on my back, his cock sliding between my ass cheeks, then down.

His weight pressed me into the bed, cramming my face into the pillow.

There was one jolt of fear when I tried to take a breath and instead sucked cotton into my mouth. But then Sam grabbed my hair and pulled my head back and to the side so I could breathe. His other hand slid up from my waist, underneath me, until he cupped my breast and squeezed, rolling my nipple between two fingers, that low, delicious rumble vibrating against my back and sending a spear of want through me to the hot, swollen places that were alive for him.

“Oh, God,” I gasped.

“I thank Him for thinking this up, too,” Sam chuckled, but the words were ragged, dragged from his throat. I didn’t have time to respond before he buried his face in the hollow where my shoulder met my neck, released my hair and breast, then grabbed my hips on both sides, and while using his weight to keep my shoulders pinned down on the bed, he pulled his knees up and out to widen my thighs, and lifted my hips into his lap.

Rubbing himself back and forth against me, his breathing grew harsh as he positioned himself. Then he kissed my shoulder before clamping a hand to the back of my neck, bracing himself on it and entered me from behind in a single, sharp thrust that tore a strangled cry from my throat, and a shuddering groan from his.

I was helpless, back arched, hips high over his thighs, spread wide, my feet shaking and unable to find purchase as he kept me pinned to the mattress and took me.

“So fucking wet for me,” he rasped as he pulled all the way out then, curling his fingers into the back of my neck, arched his back, and began to pound .

I was trembling, the pleasure of him filling me wringing such joy from my body, I could only make noises to urge him on.

But his thrusts were pushing me up the bed, and I had no traction to resist.

Back arched and ass tipped up to meet him, I flailed, finally getting one arm high enough to plant my hand against the headboard so I could offer resistance. On his next thrust, we both cried out and I felt Sam shudder.

“Fuck, Bridget.”

“Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Please!”

With a long, low moan, Sam tipped forward, fisting the pillow next to my face with his free hand, and arching his back, plowing me—sometimes deep and slow, holding the peak hard against me for moments before drawing out, others slamming home again and again until our bodies slapped. My hardened, sensitized nipples dragged on the cotton sheets, sending electric jolts through me to meet the pulse from where we joined until I could do nothing but brace and wait as my body climbed—mindless, begging for more.

Wordless cries broke from me with every thrust, and the pressure of bliss building in my core threatened to overwhelm me.

“Sam… Sam!”

“Come for me, baby—oh shit, Bridget!”

As he pushed me closer and closer to the edge of that glorious cliff, he twitched and jolted, fighting for control. As my cries grew higher, more frantic, he let go of my neck and grabbed for my free hand, pulling it up over my head and twining our fingers, holding both of us there until with one, final drive, my body shattered.

We both cried out as my head lifted and body bowed in the same moment Sam dropped his chin and his cheek brushed mine.

Wave after wave of bliss, lungs frozen, and then a bellowing cry from Sam and he collapsed over me, holding me, roaring, sweating…

We lay there for long minutes, blinking and panting, before Sam finally pushed up on one elbow and cleared his throat. “Holy fuck, Bridget. Can you breathe?” he rasped .

“Mmm hmmm,” I murmured, smiling, and praying he’d lay back down. Because I loved it.

I loved his weight on my back. I loved feeling helpless in his arms. I adored the sense that he covered me. A thick, strong, shield standing between me and the world that I hated.

It was stunning.

I never wanted it to end.