Page 45 of Second Chance Fate (Hope Falls: Brewed Awakenings #5)

Taylor’s touch began to trail across his chest, then lower down his stomach; there she traced the thin line of hair that led to his thick, hard length.

He watched as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, and he felt himself pulse against her tight grip.

His breath hitched as he swelled in her palm, and his balls tightened to his body from her touch.

With a swift motion, he flipped them over, his body covering hers as she landed on her back.

He looked into her eyes, seeing his own desire reflected back at him.

His heart pounded in his chest as he settled between her thighs, feeling her wet heat against his length.

She grabbed his upper arms, anchoring herself as he rolled his hips, his cock sliding against her slick folds, making her gasp.

He reached between their bodies, taking himself in his hand, and lined his crown up to her opening.

He guided his engorged head up and down her slit; her folds pulsed around his tip, causing his toes to curl with pleasure.

His jaw tensed at the sensation, and he realized then that he didn’t have protection.

They’d used a condom the first time they’d had sex and still somehow had Owen. This time, he didn’t even have that.

He stilled, and she gripped his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on the shot,” she breathed.

A groan ripped from his chest. He hadn’t had a lot of sex in his life; besides Taylor, he’d been with three other people—a high school girlfriend, a college girlfriend, and a girlfriend in his twenties—but he’d never had any sex without protection.

The thought of being inside of her without a latex barrier caused his cock to jump and throb heavily.

She must have felt it because her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed.

He didn’t want her to feel like they had to do this just because they’d gone this far.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked as his forehead rested against hers. “We can stop.”

It might kill me , he thought, but we can stop.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades. “I don’t want to stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Hearing the desperation in her voice caused his balls to coil up tightly to his body once more. He feared that the second he pushed inside of her, the tight, velvety walls of her inner canal would set him off like a trip wire and he’d explode.

He needed to slow things down. Not the actual, physical pace; that was fine.

He needed to reinforce the years of pent-up sexual frustration.

It’s not that he’d gone the past six years without climaxing; he’d taken matters into his own hands.

But jerking off was nothing compared to being with someone.

It was a lonely act that was a means to an end. It was maintenance more than pleasure.

What he craved, what he missed, was feeling her body beneath him. It was the sensation of nails clawing up his back. It was the heat of breath against his neck as he drove into her.

The intimacy he craved wasn’t in the orgasm; it was in the touches, the sounds, the sensations, the movements, the words, the smells, and the tastes.

Those were the things that he’d longed for.

But not just with anyone. It had to be with someone who he loved.

He’d cared about his girlfriends and loved them as people, but not with the kind of love he felt for Taylor, which was strange considering he’d been in relationships that lasted years with all of them.

With a measured pace, he pushed past the barrier of her opening and stilled, feeling the warmth and wetness between her legs as the seam of her sex spasmed around his engorged tip.

He stilled, trying to give his body time to adjust to the pleasure he felt so he wouldn’t go over the edge too soon.

When Taylor’s hips jerked up impatiently, he gripped her hip and held her in place.

She let out a frustrated groan, and he answered her exasperation by slowly pressing inside of her until he filled her completely.

Her inner walls clenched rapidly around his shaft, and he began to move in and out of her, their bodies becoming one.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through him; every caress and touch only intensified the sensation.

Time seemed to stand still as their bodies communicated in a language all their own.

He moved inside her with a deliberate patience, savoring the way her body drew him in and clung to him, as if she never wanted to let go.

They found a rhythm together, hips rocking in perfect sync, every motion building—steady, insistent, somehow both gentle and wild.

Taylor arched beneath him, her hands traveling up his back, to his shoulders, and tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

She gasped his name, a sound that made his chest ache and his pulse thunder in his chest.

He braced himself over her, his face hovering just above hers, so close he could feel the trembling exhale of her every breath.

His eyes roamed her face, studying the rawness of her need, the open vulnerability she didn’t bother to hide.

She traced the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbone, and the scar above his eyebrow, memorizing him in this moment: present, alive, all his walls down.

“You feel so good,” his voice broke on the words, low, almost a growl.

She pulled him down for a kiss, tongues tangling in a battle of desperate need. He responded by moving deeper, harder, carefully but unrelentingly: he wanted to fill every empty place inside her. The sounds that came from him were raw, unguarded, and desperate.

Caleb dipped his head, kissing her jaw, her throat, and her collarbone, savoring the salt of her skin.

Her nails raked his back, and she shivered.

He felt her inner thighs tremble against his hips.

He shifted, angling his hips so he drove deeper with every thrust. His body instinctively gave everything he had to give—her pleasure was the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

His fingertips dug into Taylor’s hips, doing his best to read her signals.

Her body responded instantly, arching against him, her breath catching in ragged, unsteady bursts.

“Yes, don’t stop, please,” she whimpered, and he understood it was more than just physical, more than seeking release. It was a plea for connection, for something lasting and real.

He slid an arm beneath her lower back, cradling her, supporting her, moving with her. The world beyond the bed disappeared—nothing but the heat between their bodies existed. Every thrust turned up the dial on his pleasure, winding him tighter and tighter, coiling before its release.

It was wordless; it was worship. He whispered her name between kisses as if it were a secret only he was allowed to know. Their breaths intermingled, binding them together, anchoring him to the here and now, to the reality of this night.

He felt the moment she tipped over the edge, her velvet walls clenched around him in a powerful spasm, her moans and muffled cries against his shoulder.

The sensation triggered his own release, and he groaned into her neck.

An explosion of ecstasy hit him, an overwhelming rush of pleasure so intense that it stole his breath away.

His body shuddered against hers as waves of pleasure ripped through him before settling in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss.

He rolled on his back and pulled her on top of him.

Her leg draped over his thigh, and her hand landed on his chest. His left hand caressed her back, up and down, while his right rested on the leg that lay across his body.

They stayed like that, entwined, for a long time.

Sweat cooled on their skin, and the only sounds were their hearts catching up to themselves and their breathing slowly syncing.

He nuzzled into her hair, his lips grazing her temple, and she cuddled closer to him.

His fingertips dug into her thigh, afraid that if he let go, she might vanish.

This felt too good to be true. The weight of their intense connection hung heavy in the air, so thick he could barely breathe.

He wanted to tell Taylor that he loved her, that he wanted to be a husband to her in every sense of the word, and that he wanted the entire world to know that she was his wife, but he wasn’t willing to risk her pulling away.

They were floating in an intimacy bubble so fragile he feared any acknowledgement of it would cause it to burst. For now, he would have to be patient.

For now, his feelings would have to remain unspoken.

For now, he would just have to show her how he felt.

And he planned on doing that every chance she gave him.