Christina and Patrick’s story is more than halfway done! Here’s a brand-new teaser.
As this book takes shape, it’s clear that it’s as much about learning to love and accept yourself as learning how to love another person. And for these two, that learning involves a lot of rough and raw emotions (and sex).
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I cupped her ass, pulling back, and waited until her eyes, hot and shiny, locked on mine.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
Her head jerked up. Her cheeks were red.
“What do you mean, don’t?”
“Don’t make fun of me that way. I know you like to push my buttons and fuck with my mind. But I’m not beautiful.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I—” her eyes darted away and back. “I at least trust you to tell me the truth. Before — I got compliments, all the time, but I never actually believed them.”
I stared up at her from between her legs. “I’m not your ex-boyfriend.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? I don’t think you do. If I say you’re beautiful, it’s because you are.”
She sucked in a breath, searching my face. There was so much wanting in her arched brows, her parted lips. I pinched the brown peak of her nipple, aiming for her sweet spot between pleasure and pain. “Understood?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she dipped her head.
“Say it. Say, ‘Yes, Patrick, I believe you. I’m beautiful.’”
“Jesus,” she groaned. “No.”
I slapped the inside of her thigh, just enough for her to feel the sting. She jumped. Her eyes went unfocused, and her lips twitched in the little smile that always gave her away. “I’m waiting.”
“I can’t say that.”
When I twisted her nipple, she grabbed my wrist. Fuck, she was wet. Glistening in the lamplight. Her thighs were spread wantonly, her most private places exposed to me. “I just can’t. You don’t understand.”
“I know this is hard for you.” I gripped her hips and pulled her abruptly toward me, shooting down the sheets. She gasped, her body bucking to meet mine. “Everything here is hard for you, Christina. Do what I tell you.”
“You really don’t get it. Girls aren’t supposed to say that about themselves.”
Grasping a fistful of her thick dark hair, so fucking alive and curling in my hand, I pushed my face next to hers. Heat rose from her skin.
“I don’t give a fuck,” I hissed, “about what girls are supposed to do or what girls are not supposed to do. Now, are you ready to tell me the truth?”
She panted, her breath coming rapidly.
“Yes, Patrick.” Her eyes were two dark wells, beckoning me to drown. “I believe you. I’m beautiful.”
“Say it again.”