Page 28 of Tempt (Peachwood Falls #1)

M egan

“Where are your condoms?” I ask, then lick him from base to tip.

He hisses through his teeth. “Drawer to your right.”

I tease him, swirling my tongue around the head. He watches me with a heated gaze as I pull him out of my mouth with an audible pop .

Leaning over the bed, I slide the drawer open. Chase’s hands cup my ass before his fingers slide down my slit and dip into my opening.

“ Shit ,” I gasp, looking desperately for a condom. I lift my hips and spread my knees to offer him better access. That feels so fucking good .

He plays in my wetness while I search in the darkness.

“Chase, I can’t find any,” I say. “Are you sure they’re here?”

“Yeah. Dammit.” He draws his fingers slowly away from me and then leans over me, flipping on a lamp. He peers into the drawer. “Oh, fuck. I think I’m out.”

I glare at him. “Tell me you’re joking.”

He falls back on the bed and covers his face with his hands.

My pussy throbs. My breasts are engorged. He’s flipped a switch to my libido, and I can’t turn it off. Only he can satiate me.

And he’s going to have to.

His cock stands tall, sharing my body’s refusal to give up. I take it in my palm and slowly stroke it while considering an alternative.

“Chase …”

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

“This is the unsexiest conversation I’ve ever had, but I’m on birth control. And I just had my yearly exam a couple of months ago, and it came back fine. I’m disease-free.”

He chuckles. “And you haven’t fucked anyone since?”

“No.”

His eyes flare. I’m on my back, and he’s hovering over me in a split second. “You went from the unsexiest thing ever to the sexiest.”

“It’s sexy that I’m in a dry spell?”

“ Were .” He grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist. “You were in a dry spell.”

I reach between my legs and wink. “You’re right. I am pretty wet.”

He growls. The low and guttural sound coalesces in my core.

“I’m clean. I have an app thing from the doctor on my phone if you want to look at it,” he says.

“You’d just hand me your phone?”

“No.” He slides a finger into me, making me moan. “But you can go over there and get it if you want. I’ll unlock it for you.”

I suck in a breath and close my eyes, absorbing the waves of pleasure from him touching me.

“Are you going to get it?” he asks. “Or are you going to get it ?”

“The phone or your dick? Is that what you mean?” He twists his fingers and pulls them out slowly. “ Shit, Chase .”

“That’s what I mean.”

It would be easy to say I trust him without thinking about it. That would be the hedonistic answer, and I’m on a quest to pursue pleasure.

But it seems I’ve turned into a responsible adult.

“I’m happy to make you come on my fingers or face,” he says. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, sweetheart.”

Damn this man.

My heart swells, and I open my eyes. A set of bright-green eyes that holds no secrets peers down at me. There’s no shield, no sense of manipulation to get what he wants—only a man who genuinely cares about me. Who wants to do the right thing … even if it’s uncomfortable.

He eases me back to the bed and lies beside me. My chest rises and falls as I try to make sense of the riot of emotions inside my head.

“I trust you,” I whisper.

“Come here.”

I roll over, facing him. My lips are met with his.

He holds my face in his hands as if he’s holding something valuable. His mouth is soft, and his movements slow. He kisses me like he has all night.

He kisses me like he means it. Like he wants me to know that .

It takes me aback. The tender and sweet surprises me and throws me for a loop.

Shouldn’t this be expected? Shouldn’t this be something I’ve felt before? Shouldn’t it always be like this?

He continues to press kisses lazily along my jaw, down my throat, and across my collarbone. There’s no rush. There’s no frenzy to get down to business. Maybe that’s because we’ve already done this tonight.

Or this could be something new altogether.

My throat is raw as I roll Chase onto his back. The light is bright, and I prepare to climb on top of him. I’m suddenly self-conscious. I move to turn the light off when he stops me.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“I’m going to kill the light.”

“Why?”

“Because …” I don’t finish the sentence. I can’t. If I thought telling him that I don’t have an STD wasn’t sexy, telling him I’m nervous about him seeing my body when I’m on top of him is worse.

He holds my gaze and gently guides me until I’m straddling him. My breathing is ragged; my heart thumps a mile a minute.

I can only imagine my appearance in this light and from this angle.

This isn’t the living room with the hazy lighting and friendly shadows.

This isn’t the moonlight that’s just as forgiving.

This is a bright LED light whose job seems to be pointing out every roll, each stretch mark. Fuck that light .

“Hey,” he says, rising and kissing me. “You’re beautiful.”

Oh, my heart . I smile at him but quickly look away.

“ Megan .”

His hands clamp my thighs.

“ Megan ,” he says again. “Look at me.”

I take a deep breath and gaze up at his chiseled abs, over his hard chest, and at his gorgeous face.

“You have no idea how lucky I am to be here with you right now,” he says softly. “Every time I remember that you’ve allowed me to be inside you tonight, I can’t believe it.”

I blush. “Chase, stop.”

“I can’t stop. Apparently, no one has told you how beautiful you are, and you need to know.”

“This isn’t happening,” I say, starting to move off him.

He presses down on my thighs. If I struggle to move, he’ll let me up. I can see it in his eyes. But in the depths of the green, I also see him asking permission to hold me on top of him. I let him.

“What don’t you like about yourself?” he asks softly. “What are you worried about?”

I shrug.

“Tell me. Point out the things you want to turn off the light over.”

“Why?” I ask, my cheeks reddening. “This is embarrassing.”

He grins. “What’s embarrassing? These sexy thighs? Your perfect tits?” He holds them in his palms like he’s weighing them. “This makes my dick hard just thinking about them.”

My shoulders fall, releasing a bit of tension.

“This curve right here …” He runs his hands down my sides. “For fuck’s sake, Megan. This is every man’s dream.”

“Well, thank you,” I say, face flushed.

“How do you not know this?”

“It’s hard to turn thirty and not have a reason to have cellulite and a round stomach, you know? Well, you don’t know, but it is.”

He snorts. “You mean the fact that you’re healthy? You eat? You enjoy food? Why do you need an excuse for that?”

I can’t believe I’m sitting naked on top of Chase Marshall having this conversation, but here we are. Could my life be any weirder ?

“It’s hard, Chase. Every magazine, every online picture, every?—”

“Are photoshopped.” He smiles. “Every fucking one of them. And even if they’re not, you’re not competing with those women. Hell, you’re not competing with anyone. Don’t have a fucked-up beauty scale because let me tell you …”

He runs his hands over my stomach. I start to pull away as he touches the most self-conscious part of my body. But the look in his eyes keeps me from it.

The longer he touches it, the more comfortable it becomes. The stretch marks and added weight to my belly feel seen—like the need to keep it hidden is futile. And the way that makes me feel wholly accepted is like nothing I ever imagined.

“Let me tell you,” he says again, “that I’m one lucky motherfucker getting to touch you like this. That you would allow me the privilege. And anyone touching you should feel that way, or you should tell them to fuck off.”

The longer I live with his words, the more I believe them. The more comfortable I become.

“Okay,” I say, grinning. “I’ll remember to tell the next guy that.”

He lifts a brow. I don’t know what that means, but it makes me laugh.

“I’m not laughing,” he says, lifting me.

He pauses, and I nod. Then he positions his cock against my opening, and I slide down slowly, sinking onto him.

Oh. My. Fuck.

I’m full—so incredibly full, and the fullness threatens to burst me wide open.

“Give me a minute to acclimate,” I whisper, rolling my hips gently.

Without the condom, he’s even harder. The friction between us is a total turn-on. Every move is more electric. Each tilt of the hips is sharper. Every contraction of muscles feels like an energy exchange from one body to the other, and there’s something so intimate, so hot about it that I moan.

“ Holy shit ,” he says, groaning and fighting not to thrust into me. “Your body is so hot. You’re burning up.”

“I’m on the edge already.”

He chuckles. “Good, because I can’t last long inside you like this.”

“I’m going to try to move,” I say, holding my breath.

Hissing as I rock against him, the thought of his body inside mine is a mindfuck. No condom. No barrier. Just him and me.

“Slow down,” he says, squeezing my hips. “Let me enjoy you.”

He holds my gaze as I ride him slowly. The reverence and the sweetness in his features, coupled with the desire written all over his face, is something I’ll never forget. Every future sexual encounter will be compared to this.

And it’ll fail.

Because this is it, this is everything. This is being wanted. Desired. This is me giving up control because he asked for it. He didn’t demand it or expect it. He requested that I trust him.

I thought I told him no romance .

Grinning at the memory, I rock against him again. He lets me pick up the pace and gives me free rein to take control. It doesn’t take long before I’m ready to again fall over the edge for this complicated man.

He sucks in a breath and smashes the back of his head into the pillows.

“I’m going to come,” I say, the pressure inside me building.

“Good timing then. I’m trying to hold it back.”

I rise up and then press down, grinding on his cock. He gasps and drives his hips into me.

“I’m coming, Chase,” I groan as the flood of my orgasm breaks through my body.

“Me too.”

He grits his teeth as I ride out the waves of pleasure. Watching him come apart for me, under me, with me, is the biggest high I’ve ever felt. I have the power to make this man lose control.

It’s downright spectacular.

Once he’s emptied himself inside me and my orgasm has crashed, I roll off him.

“Hey,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you going?”

I smile. “Bathroom.”

He sits up and presses a quick kiss to my lips. Then he hops off the bed.

“Come on,” he says, going to the bathroom. “Let me give you a bath.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He stops in the doorway and looks at me over his shoulder. His eyes shine. “I know I don’t. But I want to. Okay?”

I want to argue with him and tell him it’s unnecessary—that I can clean myself up. But the longer I look at him, the more I decide not to.

Let him take care of you, Megan. What can it hurt?

“Okay,” I say, climbing off the bed. When I reach the doorway, he takes my hand in his.

As I look up and into his eyes, I grin.

I know exactly what can get hurt—me. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.