Someone to Watch Over Me by Anne Berkeley Read Free Book Online Page B

my
hand, I traced the curves of his chest. He was lean, long-limbed,
but corded with muscle. His chest was smooth, not a single hair
marring its golden complexion. The edges of his ribs rippled along
his sides . His stomach flexed under my touch,
his eight-pack growing defined.
    The tattoos on his arm
continued up his shoulder and neck and down his ribs. It was the
woman from his first album. She was sitting in a meadow filled with
wild strawberries, high above the ocean, amidst the trees. The moon
was high overhead like a beacon in the night.
    “It’s beautiful.”
    “You’re beautiful. The real
thing , strawberry girl.” Impatient, he
took my mouth again, hungrier. His tongue thrusting against mine
with greed. I pushed away, hands pressed against his chest, pushing
then dragging him back to me , w anting to revel in this, wanting to savor it and then feeling bereft when he
ceded.
    “I like that,” I said, nibbling
the ring circling his lip. He had another on his tongue. A large
metal ball above and below. “That too. I always wanted one.”
    “I’ll take you myself .”
    “I want to feel it…” Daringly,
I bit my lip and pointed between my thighs. “There. I heard it does
wicked things.”
    His eyes flashed, a dark smile
playing at the edge of his lips. He nudged my legs wider, falling
to his knees. His tongue darted out, flicking that metal ball
against my most sensitive spot. My head fell back, my body arching
into him. I was wrong. He did wicked things. That ball was
the cherry on top. It brought me to peak faster than our first time
together.
    The moon and the stars could’ve
shot from the sky and I wouldn’t have noticed a thing. Lost, I was
in a glimmer of hope. Falling deeper and
deeper into an unfathomable abyss of
emotion. My mind couldn’t register the magnitude of my
feelings.
    Raveling my fingers into his
dark hair, I cried out. He braced my thighs as I tried to push him
away. I couldn’t take anymore. My body trembled against him as he
wrought every rack of pleasure from me. His tongue flicked against
me again and again.
    When he finally deemed I’d had enough, I fell back against
the mattress, my breaths coming in hungry gasps. I heard the draw
of a zipper, and a rustle as his pants fell to the floor.
    Leisurely, he climbed onto the
bed, his expression a warning , a promise.
I stopped breathing as he stalked closer, losing myself in his
eyes. He could devour me in their inky depths, trap my soul within
their glossy reflection. God knows, I would go willingly.
    “I was wrong,” he said so
quietly I almost didn’t hear. Skimming a finger down my neck and
shoulder, the trail of his touch left goosebumps on my skin. He
circled the peak of my breast, teased it to a stiff crest . “There’s no getting you out of my veins.”
    “Don’t.” Lifting my hand, I
pressed my fingers to his lips. “Don’t say that.” We had two very
different lives. Nothing could come out of this. There was no
reason to lie to myself with notions of white picket fences and
happy endings. They were just make believe.
    “Why, Coop? It’s how I feel.”
He slid into me, slow ly, gently, ending
the conversation. Our thoughts centered on the here and now. A
slide of skin. A sigh of pleasure.
    Closing my eyes, I moved with
him, matching his pace. He loved with exquisite torture, thrusting
with a gentle rhythm, drawing out every second of our joining with
infinite patience.
    We made no promises, spoke of
no future. We relished the moment, satiating each other’s needs. A
touch here. A caress there. And kisses, God, his kisses could loosen the most reticent of hearts. I
told myself that they meant nothing. He was just an exceptional
lover.
    Lucky me to have him for one
night.
    Closing his eyes, he bit his
lip, moving at a measured pace. Beads of sweat rose across his
forehead. I could watch him for hours. That gentle sway of hair
that draped across his face. The tendons that strung from his
shoulder to his jaw. The