The One Real Thing
Page 85

If he knew the truth . . . I could lose him anyway.
The past seven weeks I’d spent getting to know this man had been the best of my life. And the last month of getting to be the woman who curled up in his arms at night had been absolute heaven.
I was way past falling.
I’d fallen.
Hard.
The idea of losing him was crippling.
“No.” I threw back the covers and snagged one of his T-shirts off his bedroom chair. Hurriedly pulling it on over my head, I dashed out of the room.
“Cooper!” I stormed down the stairs, catching him as he was halfway out the door.
He looked back at me, his expression cold. “Go back to bed.”
“No.” As soon as I reached him I took hold of his arm and pulled him inside with one hand as I tried to shut the door with the other. “Please.”
To my relief he came back inside and closed the door, but he was rigid under my touch.
Desperate to soothe him, to melt his resistance to my affections, I slid my arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his mouth. He stayed rock solid, unyielding, no matter how many kisses I laced along his jaw, or how my fingers tightened in his hair the way I knew he liked.
“Cooper,” I murmured against his mouth. I felt an ugly knot in my stomach at his cold distance. “Don’t.”
“Why not?” he said, his voice gruff. “This is what you do to me.”
Pain shot across my chest. I pulled away, horrified. “No.” I shook my head.
“Yeah.” He nodded, his expression like granite. “Anytime I try to even mention your family or your past you lock up and lock me out. You think telling me that you don’t talk to anyone about this is supposed to make me feel better? I’m not supposed to be just anyone to you. Not when you are what you are to me.”
I felt the panic tighten my chest. “Why?” I said, my breathing coming fast and shallow. “Why do you need to know about that stuff? Why can’t you just have this?” I gestured to myself. “This. Right now. You . . .” I pressed his hand to my chest, over my heart. “You have more of me than any man has ever had. Please just want me. Just me. The me you have right now.”
Cooper didn’t move, but I saw the spark of heat in his eyes.
That was enough.
It could be enough.
I took advantage of that heat and stepped back into him, pressing my body flush against his. I brushed a kiss against his throat, inhaling the musky, earthy scent of him. “Cooper,” I whispered.
He cupped my breast, his thumb dragging over my nipple.
“Yes.” I kissed his throat again as I trailed my fingertips up his arms. “Coop—”
He crushed his mouth over mine, swallowing my moan of relieved need. I could taste and feel the anger and lust in him as he gripped the back of my neck with one hand and turned and pushed me against the door with the other.
Despite the volatility I felt in him, I held on for more, because it was emotion and I needed him to feel for me. I didn’t ever want him to look at me the way he looked at his ex—like I was nothing to him after once being so much. My fingers dug into his back, as he tugged my thigh up so he could press deeper between my legs. My lips parted on a whimper of lust and desperation. Cooper growled. The sound caused a ripple of arousal in my lower belly and I rubbed against him for more.
His kisses grew more demanding, turning into desperate, hungry kisses that were almost punishing. “What you do . . .” he said against my mouth, his fingers biting into my waist.
When I whispered his name again, something dark and fierce flickered in his gaze. A mere second later he’d pulled his T-shirt off of me, his hands running all over my body. “Is this enough?” he said, his voice thick as he began maneuvering me from the bottom of the staircase into the dining room. “If this is to be it, I want it all.”
I didn’t understand what he meant until I found myself bent over the dining table, my breasts crushed to the cool wood. I gasped at the suddenness of it, and then at my vulnerability when he spread my legs apart by pushing his feet against mine.
He bent over me, his chest to my back, and his fingers caressed my inner thigh on a path toward my sex.
I elicited another strangled gasp when he pushed two thick fingers inside of me.
“Soaked,” he grunted in my ear, satisfied. “At least I have that from you.”
He pulled up off of me, his fingers sliding out of me. His cock was suddenly hot and throbbing against my core, and his hands were gripping my hips.
He slammed into me.
The impact stunned me for a second, only to be replaced with the rush of pleasure as he dragged his cock out of me and then thrust back into me.
My upper body slid back and forth on the table, my nipples catching against the lacquered wood as Cooper slid in and out in fast, deep drives. The sensations mingled together until I was immersed in lust, immersed in one thing—him fucking me.
There was no other word for it.
It was rough and hard.
Not like our first time together.
That had been an explosion from pent-up sexual frustration.
This was frustration.
This was Cooper’s frustration.
His disappointment.
His hurt.
His need to have at least something no one else had from me.
I felt claimed.
I felt needed.
And it exhilarated me.
I cried out his name, begging for more, and his grip on my hips turned bruising.
The delicious pressure built and built inside of me until with one more deep thrust it could no longer be contained. My orgasm exploded through my whole body in floods of hot light, and my inner muscles squeezed around Cooper’s dick.