29 • I Believe

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I'd never felt more wanted

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I'd never felt more wanted.

More desired.

More at peace with someone than when I was with South Tenney.

I didn't just want the slow open kisses and the sticky slick heat of skin on skin. I wanted his heart. I wanted his pain and his sadness and those broken, dark pieces of his soul. I wanted it all. The fresh scars and the tattoos. I wanted South Tenney in ways that both terrified and thrilled me.

Even though the logical part of my brain was screaming, this is too fast. Too hot. Too passionate. Too risky. My stubborn heart wasn't listening. The wall that had formed around my heart two months ago was beginning to crack, and I wanted South to be the one who slipped inside the fissures.

My brain tried again, screaming at me to remember how dangerous this man was. Sandra had warned me that men as passionate as South could swallow me whole. My mother cautioned getting involved with a SEAL. Even Connor—sweet, blushing Connor—didn't like South.

But when his hands found mine and laced our fingers together, I didn't give a damn about any of their opinions.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and urged him deeper. His mouth trailed up my neck. I shuddered and moaned as we moved together, humid air collecting around us in the tent.

If this was what it felt like to be swallowed whole, then being with this man couldn't be wrong.

Pretty hazel eyes stared back into mine, and for a moment, it was like the entire world outside the tent disappeared. I didn't just want him inside me. I wanted him to find the realest part of me—the true me—the part that wasn't fake at all—and rip it free.

I didn't want to be afraid anymore.

I wanted to be with him. Even if it hurt. Even if it meant spending nights alone. And even if it meant facing my fear and giving my heart to a man who was just as deadly as he was passionate.

With one hand twisted around my ponytail, and the other holding mine, South found a rhythm that had me unable to control my breath. Jagged pants and gasps. He wasn't slow-walking me to the edge, he was demanding I jump. Clipping himself to me and telling me to open my eyes when he opened the chute.

Each breath bringing me one step closer to the delicious burning pleasure he was stoking inside me.

"I'm so fucking close," South rasped beside my ear. "It's so hard to hold back when all I wanna do is let go."

"Me—me too," I stuttered. South pushed inside me again, pausing when I gasped.

We were teetering on the edge of the plane, strapped together, ready to fall.

The flecks of green in his eyes caught fire in the low camp light, and his hand drifted to my cheek. "Cum with me."

His demand was a match. A can of gas. A bonfire. South buried himself into me again and again, and that explosive, unbridled passion for him erupted. I screamed out his name, his hand on my cheek, and my whole body shook with pleasure.

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