Managed: A VIP Novel Part 33

"No condom," he rasps. "I didn't think."

I feel the evidence trickling along my a.s.s. A strangled laugh escapes me. "I guess it's a good thing we're both in the clear and I'm on birth control."

His fingers flex, pus.h.i.+ng into my upper thighs as if he can't help himself. "You aren't upset?"

"Can't worry about barn doors when the horse has already bolted," I say, still dazed. "Or however it goes."

He lifts his head, and our eyes meet. A strange shyness flutters over me. Holy h.e.l.l, I've never had s.e.x like this, as if my life depended on riding c.o.c.k. s.e.x that has me so mindless with l.u.s.t I forget the basics of protection. s.h.i.+t, I forgot my name, if I'm being honest. The heat building in his gaze tells me he knows this.

I feel him there, deep within me, still pulsing. I give a little wiggle, and he twitches, that long d.i.c.k of his getting harder.

"No one else," he says, his voice a thick rasp.

He doesn't say if he means for me or for him. It doesn't matter. It's clear there is only us now.

Still, I lick my swollen lips and respond. "Only you."

Chapter Twenty-One.

Gabriel

Destroyed. My polished armor. My stubborn resistance. My hardened heart. She's smashed through the first two and laid total claim on the third. And I don't feel like running.

In truth, I can barely move. Hours of coming together, resting, catching each other's eye, then coming together again like greedy fiends who f.u.c.k as though the world is about to end, has taken its toll.

I'm replete and sweating in a tangle of Sophie's curvy little body and the sheets that have long since pulled from the bed. She lays her head in the crook of my shoulder where she belongs, and I play with the rose-gold strands of her damp hair.

I could have lost her tonight, missed this perfection by being a prat. Grat.i.tude swells in my chest and clogs my throat. Sophie Darling didn't walk out on me. She gave me a chance.

"Thank you for coming home," I tell her, unable to hold back the words.

Home. Does she realize how many times I've referred to wherever we rest our heads as my home? I hadn't meant to betray myself that way, but I can't seem to stop. I want her to know what she means to me, and yet the sensation of exposing my heart is so foreign, I find it hard to breathe as she stares at me.

But her expression goes soft, her brown eyes s.h.i.+nning. Relief is liquid cool along my tight muscles as she reaches up to tuck my hair back from my brow.

"You came home first."

I didn't have a home until she came into my life. She gave me one without hesitation, as if she's been waiting for me all this time, knowing I was meant to be hers. I touch her cheek just to remind myself she's real.

Her voice is a thread in the dark. "You have fading bruises on your side and all over your face."

I don't move. I knew I wasn't fully healed, but I'd stayed away as long as I could stand.

"They're faint," she says slowly as if she's measuring her words. "But I saw them when we were in the shower."

Where it was too bright to hide anything.

Her hand smoothes along my side. I'm no longer tender, but the touch raises little b.u.mps on my skin.

"Are you going to tell me where you were?" She doesn't demand, which makes it worse.

My voice sounds like rust when I finally speak. "Fighting."

"Fighting?" She rises up on one elbow. "Who? Where? And what the f.u.c.k?... Why?"

The horror in her eyes makes me feel small. "I grew up fighting. When I was younger, I did it for money, and because it released something in me that needed freeing."

Her gaze darts over my face. "And you needed that release again?"

"Yes."

"Because of me."

I cannot lie to her. Never again. "Yes."

She sucks in a breath, and I grab her nape, afraid she'll go. "Because I was an idiot, Sophie, who couldn't go back to that hotel room that night without breaking. I couldn't let myself tell you the truth then."

She doesn't pull back, but instead gentles her voice. "What truth?"

The words pour out. "That I wanted you to the point of pain. That I needed you more than anything."

A sigh escapes her, and she rests her forehead to mine. "Gabriel, I needed you too. It isn't weakness to admit that."

Silently, I nod.

Sophie strokes my side where the bruises are fading. "Please don't do it again. I can't stand the thought of you being hurt."

"Does it help to know I won?" I'm only half-joking, but I hate the sadness I put in her eyes and want it gone.

"No." Her smile is tremulous and brief. "Yes, a little." The edge of her thumb runs along my cheekbone where I was. .h.i.t. "Promise, suns.h.i.+ne? That you'll come to me instead when you're needy."

"Darling, coming with you far surpa.s.ses any brief release I'd find fighting." It's a horrible quip. But this is what she's done to me; I've become a blathering, bestowed idiot.

Doesn't seem to matter; her expression goes soft, pleased. "Okay then."

"Okay," I whisper in agreement, set free by her simple acceptance.

She pulls me closer and kisses me-little presses of her lips, sweet darts that shoot straight to my heart and make it flutter.

If I looked at myself from the outside, I wouldn't recognize this man who acknowledges his heart is all a-flutter, who smiles against Sophie's mouth as she keeps kissing. But I like it. I love it.

"More," she demands, suckling my lower lip. "Kiss me more."

I chuckle, a breath of sound she captures. "You're kissing me," I point out.

"Because you're delicious." She dips her tongue between my lips, a slow glide, a lazy taste. "I love your mouth."

I angle my head, taste her back. "I love yours more."

"Mmm." She melts into me, takes my breath and gives it back to me. "Give me another."

I lick deeper, my mind going hazy, my mouth sensitive to every touch.

"Again," she says, smiling, kissing.

My hand cups her sweaty cheek. "My greedy, chatty girl."

With an adorable little grunt, she pushes me onto my back, going at my mouth as if I'm her first taste of chocolate. And I laugh, a low breath against her lips, my heart still f.u.c.king fluttering. I wouldn't be surprised if there are cartoon hearts in my eyes, and I don't b.l.o.o.d.y care.

We drift, content to simply kiss and touch each other as if we're rea.s.suring ourselves this is real. Pleasure makes my body heavy and warm, my movements slow.

"You do apologies pretty well," she says after a time.

We're nose to nose, our limbs so entwined she feels like a part of me.

"Pretty well?" My thumb glides along the elegant line of her collarbone. "I do many things very well."

"Excellent, even," she agrees, kissing the bridge of my nose. "Now do me well."

With an evil grin, I slide my hand down the curve of her thigh and grasp the crook of her knee, bringing it up to my hip. Exposed, she's glistening wet, pretty pink. My c.o.c.k pulses in approval.

"As you wish," I say, guiding myself to her warm, wet well of addiction and pus.h.i.+ng in deep.

She gasps and groans, the sound so erotic, I thrust harder than planned. But she merely grins. "Quotes The Princess Bride and has a big, hard c.o.c.k. I've hit the jackpot."

I know I'm the true winner, but that doesn't stop me from taking her hands in mine and raising them over her head so her pretty t.i.ts lift high.

"Hush now and spread those lovely thighs wider like a good, chatty girl. I've work to do here."

Sophie drifts away from my side as we take the elevator down to the lobby in the morning. I tug her right back where she belongs, and wrap an arm around her waist to keep her there.

A soft blush colors her cheeks as she smiles up at me. "I wouldn't have taken you for a handsy guy."

I've had my hands on every inch of her at this point-an experience I want to repeat. Often. I rub the delectable curve of her hip, because I can.

"I'm not. This is a Sophie only condition. Does it bother you?"

I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't like it. Probably live with my hands permanently tucked into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. But she simply grins wide and rests her head on my shoulder, her hand smoothing down my chest. It feels so good, I find myself leaning into her touch.

"I think last night made it clear that I love you touching me," she says.

Last night. Heat licks over my skin and settles in my c.o.c.k. We f.u.c.ked until we were shaking and breathless. I kissed her until I couldn't feel my own lips. And still I kissed her some more.

I want more now. But I'm not sure I can handle it. The battering my body took fighting, the lack of sleep when I feared I'd lost my chance with Sophie, and the lack of sleep when I finally had Sophie is catching up on me.

I'm lightheaded, slightly dizzy-euphoric and just plain exhausted. I wouldn't change a thing, however. Not when the end result is Sophie being well and truly mine.

The elevator arrives at the lobby, and we exit. Across the way, the guys have congregated, drinking coffee in the lounge. They've drawn a fair bit of attention, but they don't seem to care.

At my side, Sophie's steps slow.

I slow too. "What is it?"

She nibbles on the corner of her lip. "How do you want to play this?"

"This?" I ask blankly.

She glances toward the guys. "I'm thinking you're not big on public displays of affection. If you'd rather we kept things to ourselves-"

I step into her s.p.a.ce, cup her cheeks, and kiss her. Do I care for public displays? No. Can I keep my hands, my mouth off Sophie? h.e.l.l no.

When her lips yield to mine, the world falls away. I groan, tilt my head, and go deeper, luxuriating in the feel of her mouth and the taste of her tongue on mine.

I kiss her until I run out of air. And even then it is a struggle to stop.

She utters a happy sigh, her lips returning to mine again and again.

Behind us, someone gives a wolf whistle. I'm guessing it's Rye by the sound of it. He can sod off.

I end the kiss with one last nibble on her lower lip. "Consider yourself outed," I whisper against her mouth.