Flawed Rider: A Lost Saxons Novel #6 by Ames Jessica

Author:Ames, Jessica
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Chloe feels better than I expect, better than I could have ever hoped for. She’s soft, warm, and pliable in my arms as I press my lips to hers. For a moment she stiffens in my arms—just a bare thread of a moment—then she’s soft as putty, and I love that she is.

My fingers tangle in her copper waves, seeking, wanting more of her, and I pull her tighter against me, needing to feel her close. She’s everything that is good in my life and I shouldn’t be taking from her, but I can’t stop myself. I want her. No, I need her.

My brain screams this is a bad idea, but my brain isn’t in command right now. My body is, and it’s not willing to step back and do the honourable thing. It just wants and what it wants is the redheaded woman standing in front of me.

I devour her mouth, taking what I need from her. Her soft, plump lips feel amazing and the taste of her sits on her tongue. I wonder if she can taste the beer on mine.

I lick along the seam of her mouth, begging entrance and I’m thrilled when she grants it. This kiss is like nothing else I’ve experienced. It’s like we fit perfectly together, my mouth just the right size to completely encapsulate hers. She’s a wet dream, everything I imagined she would be and as my hand collars the back of her neck, I want to take her upstairs to my room and finish what I’ve started.

It takes monumental effort for me to pull away from her and when I do, I’m panting. My dick is hard in my jeans, pressing uncomfortably against my zip, and my balls are so tight they hurt.

I watch as she presses her fingers to her now swollen lips and swallows hard. Then her gaze seeks mine out.

“Why did you kiss me?”

To show her what I couldn’t say with words.

I should tell her this, but instead, I say, “Come back to the common room.”

“Weed, why did you kiss me?” she repeats.

The lie sits on my tongue. I shouldn’t open myself up, but I’m tired of holding everything inside, of pretending. It’s not me. It’s never been me.

So, I say, “Because I wanted to.”

Her eyes narrow on me and I see the ire building behind them. “Is that all I am to you? A game? A conquest? I know I’m young, but I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m not stupid. Are you and your friends laughing about me?”

I stare at her, unable to comprehend where the fuck this is all coming from. She shakes her head and mutters, “Well, fuck you, Weed. I’m nobody’s plaything.”

As she turns on her heel, I snag her wrist, stopping her from running. When her eyes come to mine, I say, “Sweetheart, no. No one is laughing—least of all me.” I let her go so I can rake my fingers through my short hair. “I want you, Chloe. That’s never been in question, but I’m not a good man.

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