Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1) Read online

  I squeezed his hand to comfort him. I knew this pain. It was worse than a physical ache because emotional trauma was so much harder to treat. You couldn’t pop a pill to quell the burn; only time could mend it. Clearly, he needed more time. We both did. But maybe that’s what we could be to each other. The cure.

  “She left me for someone else,” he finally said. My heart constricted for him and before I could offer solace, he continued, “She was always a bit reckless. I knew what I was getting myself into, but I guess you can’t help who you fall in love with.” He glanced my way and gave me a small smile.

  “Well, they say it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, but I tend to think the people who make this shit up have no idea what they’re talking about.”

  That elicited a hearty laugh from him, finally returning a brightness to his handsome face. “I think you’re on to something there.”

  I winked, dragging my thumb across his palm.

  Was it weird that I wanted to know more? Knowing we’d been through something similar made me feel more connected to him, made him seem more human. I didn’t want to turn our evening into a therapy session, but this softer side to Bryce was oddly intriguing. It was good to know he wasn’t always the superhero he portrayed himself to be.

  At the risk of finding myself on the opposite side of the scrutiny when he decided to ask about Hunter, I decided to push further. “Have you spoken to her since? Did you ever get any form of closure?”

  “No.” He huffed, releasing my hand and raking it through his hair. “We didn’t leave on good terms. I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have done what I did, but you shouldn’t be held responsible for what you say or do in the throes of passion, right?”

  He threw me a knowing look. His words mirrored an observation I’d made earlier, only in a different context. I had a vague idea what he was getting at—The world would be pretty boring if everyone stuck to their kind and followed all the rules . . . I broke too many back home—but the picture was still unclear.

  “Wh-what happened?” I stammered. Do I really want to know?

  Bryce shook his head and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “I did what any man who’s been betrayed would do.”

  Oh, God. What did he do? The realm of possibilities was endless. I could be falling for a madman.

  “Relax, London. I didn’t kill the guy or anything.” He inched closer, placing his hand on my knee.

  I looked down at where he was touching me and then dragged my eyes up to his. Staring back at me was the same man who helped my mother, cared for countless other patients, breathed new life into me, and made me forget how broken I was inside. I instantly felt stupid for thinking the worst of him.

  “When I found out who he was, I approached him and, let’s just say I made the pretty boy a little less pretty.”

  “You didn’t!” I gasped.

  “Not my proudest moment, but yeah. I tried talking to him at first. I wanted to know why. Only a complete dickhead goes after a practically married woman. But he insisted he didn’t know, made it like she lied to him, too. That made me even angrier. She left me for a guy who would sell her up the river to make himself look better. So, I popped him, right in the jaw. I didn’t think it was that bad, but apparently he needed it wired shut . . . or so I heard.

  “After that, she wanted nothing to do with me. People around town looked at me as though I was the crazy one and quite frankly, I wasn’t having that. So I left, and the rest is history. And that’s my big secret. Can you still stand the sight of me?” He bared his teeth as if to wince, his eyes two slits of uncertainty.

  It was hard to imagine Bryce being violent, but to me, his actions were justified. I completely understood. He was defending his love, fighting for what was his. “Bryce, I would’ve done the same thing if I found out Hunter was cheating on me. Of course I can stand the sight of you.” I caressed his face, tracing the sharp angle of his jaw. “It’s a really nice sight, too. And besides empathizing with you, hearing that story makes me see you as kind of a . . . badass.” I whispered the last part, a giggle tickling my tongue and threatening to break the barrier of my lips.

  “Badass, huh?” That delicious smolder was back. It melted me into a puddle of gooey, giddy feelings.

  “Uh huh.” I intentionally bit my lip, knowing that usually produced a rumbling growl in his throat.

  He lunged forward, causing me to slip beneath him, his body swathing mine, hovering before touchdown. “I’ll show you badass, Ms. Monroe.”

  “It’s actually Ms. Thompson.” I didn’t know why my mouth chose that moment to betray my brain. He was just about to kiss me, to do God-knows-what to me, and here I was telling him my married name when I was no longer tied to the person who gave it to me.

  Our noses touched, our breaths inches apart. I closed my eyes to hide my embarrassment, the regret of bringing it up when it didn’t even matter. He brushed a palm across my cheek and urged my eyes open with the soft pad of his thumb. “I know you still hold on to him. I’m not asking that you don’t. But I need to know if it will be a problem. Do you want him back, London?”

  Do I want him back? Not too long ago, that was all I wanted. But in truth, it had been some time since those unanswered wishes tortured me. I had no idea whether the relief was permanent or not, but with Bryce ready to reiterate how good it felt to let go, my answer was clear.

  “No, it won’t be a problem, and I don’t want him back.” I searched his eyes, a flicker of victory masked with ambiguity. There was only one thing left to say that would turn that flicker into a full on inferno. “I want you, Bryce.”

  “YOU CAN’T IMAGINE how happy I am to hear that.” Bryce’s admission was a raspy roar.

  Our mouths collided with fervent haste, our bodies ready to make do on this new declaration. With his fingers coiled in my hair, kneading my scalp, Bryce fused our lips and did not relent.

  The way he kissed me was always passionate, always a display of how famished he was for me, but this time the promise of what was to come lingered in the air and incited the kiss of all kisses. It represented a new beginning, an awakening. It epitomized us taking the next step, crossing over the line that allowed him to stake his claim.

  Does that make you mine? If that hadn’t, this surely would. I didn’t take sleeping with someone lightly. Hunter was the only man I’d ever been with. Bryce would be the second. Giving him this piece of me was a big deal and not one ounce of my body objected, not even my brain. It was a testament to the truth, I wanted him more than I was willing to admit. I wanted him enough to take this part of me that had only belonged to one other person in my entire life. I wanted him inside of me for all the right reasons, forsaking all doubts, admonishing all fears.

  “Take me.” The words flew from my lips without thought. They dripped as naturally as nectar from a ripe fruit, yet they erupted like a reckless gush of water over a dam.

  Bryce’s hands became erratic, not knowing where to touch first. He cradled my face between sweet and forceful kisses and then brought them down to my heaving chest. Cupping a handful of my breasts, covered only by the light material of my gauzy dress, he thumbed my already taut nipples and I moaned out in pleasure.

  “Should we move this upstairs?” He spoke against my swollen lips.

  “Here’s just fine,” I panted back.

  I did not want to break the friction or interrupt the current that flowed so effortlessly between us. A bed would be nice—more room to explore, to savor, to sprawl out—but then again, my room was still reminiscent of my childhood. I couldn’t imagine allowing Bryce to ravage me under the glow of pink fairy lights and the watchful eye of countless stuffed animals.

  “What’s so funny?” He licked the sensitive shell of my ear and whispered into it. “I’m one second away from ripping this dress off and you’re giggling.”

  “Nothing. Please don’t stop.” The girlish snicker vanished at the sound of what he planned.

&nbs
p; “Oh, I won’t stop, but if I’m making you laugh, I’m doing something wrong.” At that, Bryce pulled the top of my dress down to expose both breasts. He pinched one nipple between two determined fingers, bringing his mouth down to suck on the other.

  “Oh my God,” I gasped. My back arched off the couch, giving him more access, provoking him to further torture the sensitive flesh.

  “Feel good?” he asked, looking up at me from where he was circling his tongue around the tight bud.

  “Yesss,” I hissed. “So good.”

  “Good.” It was his turn to laugh, a throaty, triumphant sound that was quickly muffled when his mouth turned busy again.

  This time, the tip of his tongue stopped circling and started flicking in a fast but tender rhythm. The pressure of his massaging did not let up on the other breast and he gripped the peak so tightly between his fingers, a pulsing ache of carnality swept through me.

  “Oh my . . . oh God. That feels so good.” I wondered if I might explode from this alone. If he kept at it, it was a certainty. But there was an empty ache between my legs and there was only one way to fill it. Bryce. While this prelude was exhilarating, I wanted us to let go . . . together. I wanted that for us more than I wanted the looming release brought on solely by his skillful attention to my breasts.

  Tunneling my fingers in his hair, I brought my other hand to cover his where it worked my nipple so diligently and guided it down my ribcage, over my belly, and forced it to the spot where it was needed most.

  Bryce’s tongue stopped and his eyes met mine. Fire. Lust. Hunger. I was sure he observed the same staring back at him. I smiled in appreciation of how in sync we were, and moved his hand in an up and down motion against my sex.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “You.” I bit my lip, suppressing nerves and fears and every little thing that prevented us from becoming one.

  “You want me to touch you . . . here?” He stiffened his hand and rubbed it between my folds. My dress and underwear obstructed the true feel of his skin against mine, but the friction was there, forcing me to grind against his hand. It lessened the ache, but not enough. I wanted more.

  “Not with your hand.”

  His head tilted as he hitched my dress higher, brushing my calves and then my thighs with the soft fabric. He pooled it around my belly, and then my bottom half was covered only in the lacy panties I had chosen with him in mind. He dragged his eyes down to where my body was on fire, and licked his lips. “Like before? Do you want me to fuck you with my mouth again, beautiful?”

  I did. I wanted that again and again and again. But not now. Right now I wanted to feel his cock pushing into me, rocking and thrusting until I let loose around it.

  “No,” I finally admitted. I reached between us and searched for his zipper. Latching on, I pulled it down and then snuck my hand inside to find what I was looking for. Wrapping my palm and fingers around his thick stiffness, I confessed my deepest request. “I want you inside of me, Bryce. I want to know what you feel like, what we feel like together.”

  A breath did not escape me before he was tugging my dress up and pulling it over my head. He tossed it to the floor and my fingers made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. When it was undone, I peeled it over his shoulders and he shrugged it off the rest of the way. He stood to step out of his pants and boxer-briefs, retrieving a condom from his back pocket.

  The only thing left to remove were my panties. That one tiny layer of lace stood between me and what I couldn’t wait another second to have. I tucked my index fingers inside the waistband, but Bryce stopped me with a firm grip on my wrists. “No. Let me.”

  I relented with a shy smile but all inhibition melted away when he dragged the thin material down and bent to taste what he’d uncovered.

  “Ahhh,” I groaned and bucked off the couch cushion.

  “I couldn’t help myself. It’s so inviting.” He looked up at me and swiped at his lips with his tongue just as he reached my ankles with the underwear and reunited them with my dress on the floor.

  The unmistakable crinkle of a condom wrapper filled the room and I lifted up on my elbows to watch Bryce sheath his length. “Can I help?” I asked, in awe of his cock. I’d never thought to describe one in this way but it was beautiful. Big and hard, a glistening drop of his cream decorating the wide tip.

  I wanted to reach out and taste it. He’d tasted me twice; it was only right to return the favor. Not that taking him in my mouth would be a favor for him alone. But before I could lean forward, Bryce’s body was hovering over mine, his fingers already glazing my entrance with my arousal.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked as he nestled himself between my legs.

  “More than okay. You don’t even have to ask.” Did I wear my inexperience that noticeably? Was any part of my actions, my naked and willing body before him, a reason to think I didn’t want this?

  “Of course I do. This is your first time since—”

  “Don’t finish that sentence, Bryce. That’s so far from what I’m thinking about right now.” It was the truth. Well, it was until he brought it up.

  “Look at me, London.”

  I paused before dragging my eyes to his. They smiled back at me, full of so much more than lust or the need to have sex. His amber irises burst with hope, with respect for someone who carried a broken heart beneath the bare breasts that swelled for him.

  We blinked in unison, our breaths timed with matching inhales and exhales. He brought his lips to mine again, a chaste kiss, and then pulled back before positioning himself at my opening and slowly slipping inside.

  My eyes rolled back at the initial pleasure of welcoming him, and when I looked at him again, he paused. “I want to make sure this is only about us. I don’t want anyone else taking up residence in your mind while I’m inside of you.”

  He pushed in a little further then, his thickness penetrating deeper, stretching me wider. I surrendered as my legs fell to either side. “There is no one else. Just you. Only us.”

  That was what he wanted to hear, everything he needed to know. He pulled out slowly but not completely and bent forward to nip my neck before slamming back inside. “Mine.” He breathed heavily into my ear as he lost all control and picked up the pace. Every thrust was powerful yet soothing. And, God, did he know how to work his hips so I felt every inch of him at every angle.

  I met his hypnotic rhythm by arching forward and grinding upward so he rubbed against my clit each time he pounded into me. It wouldn’t take long for me to detonate around him at this tempo. The chorded muscles of his back and arms were rigid and flexed beneath my roving fingertips, but I sensed he could go for hours with no end in sight. I would try to hold on; I wanted to come together, but the way he jerked inside of me, pumping, gliding, filling . . .”Bryce, I’m going to come.”

  “Then come. Come for me, beautiful. Come around my cock and let me ride every last drop out of you.”

  Fuck! That mouth. How could one man be so reserved in public and such a dirty-talking heathen after dark? It didn’t bother me in the least; it only added to the enigmatic sexiness that was Bryce Owen.

  It also triggered the release that bubbled inside of me, heightening it to a fever pitch that could not be controlled.

  “Ohh!” My body tensed, toes flexing, legs tightening, fingers gripping. I pulled him closer still, digging the heels of my feet into his ass to drive him deeper.

  “Harder.” My voice trembled as the spasms owned me, crippling me in the most amazing way possible. I let go, but I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to detonate around him, as he requested. I wanted him to ride this wave with me.

  Just as my muscles started to relax, the last of the tremors running their course, Bryce sat up, pulling me with him and mounting me atop his lap. Strong hands guided me by the waist, gliding me up and down his shaft. What I thought was over kicked up again, only more intense, more powerful than before.

  “Bryce!” I cried. This
one felt as if it could shatter me into pieces. I rested my head against his shoulder, on the verge of surrendering to the bliss once more, but he lifted my face so our eyes met.

  “Do it again.” It was a wanton growl. He pressed his forehead to mine, both damp with the sweet sweat of our efforts. “This time we’ll do it together.”

  There could be no better end to this. No better beginning to us.

  He kissed me hard and then retreated. Our eyes met and I found purchase by gripping his shoulders, lifting up and crashing back down.

  “Oh, God,” I moaned at the first flicker of blinding pleasure. Bursting into a thousand tiny fragments that engulfed every one of my senses, I came for him again and felt his cock pulse inside of me.

  “Fuck, London. Just like that.” His dark gaze did not leave mine for a second as our bodies took everything the other had to give. “Yes, beautiful, yes!”

  Hard and tense beneath my touch, every one of Bryce’s muscles stiffened as he pumped into me one last time. He pulled out of me violently and I immediately felt the loss. I wrapped my arms around him to fill the void and he lowered us so I lay beneath him on my back.

  Wordless and depleted, our embrace lasted long after the final shockwave sizzled out. When our heartbeats slowed and our breaths simmered, I turned on my side, our naked flesh still pressed together and whispered, “Stay the night.”

  WE NEVER MADE it up to my bedroom. Instead we fell asleep coiled together in the exact spot where we made love—another two times after the first.

  Thankfully I was small and the couch was big, because Bryce’s broad muscles demanded space even as he slept.

  I woke with a thick bicep wrapped around my middle, and took a moment to admire the sinewy dips and valleys of his seamlessly carved physique. He really was breathtaking, and not just his looks. Our evening had been perfect—dinner, getting to know each other, laughing, exploring, fucking.

  My sex throbbed at the mere thought of everything we’d done to each other last night. I was by no means an expert, but I certainly wasn’t a prude. I had a bit of a wild side in the bedroom—or on the couch, in this instance—but I had never been as uninhibited as I’d been with Bryce.