That was when he moved. His whole body grew taut and tense as his muscles bunched, and I found myself lifted and pressed flat on my back as he wedged his cock even deeper inside of me.
“Guess you breathed wrong then because I can’t wait another second to fuck you,” he rasped out against my mouth as his hips took control of him.
It was as though he gave himself permission to let go, and everything came crashing down. He pushed my knees up high against my breasts. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought he was kneeling as he thrust into me one time after another, each a little harder and a little deeper, stripping away any coherent thoughts I had left.
“You’re so fucking unbelievable. How are you real?” he demanded with a forceful thrust. “Let me tell you what I see, Beauty.”
His palms pressed my legs high and wide against my body, and on each solid flex of his hips, I felt my breasts shift and move.
“I see your eyes—those beautiful but frustrating eyes—looking up at me and offering everything I fucking want. I’m going to take it.” He growled out in a voice I hardly recognized. “I’m going to take everything you’re offering and more. I see your body laid out before me. You are open, vulnerable, and so fucking sexy that I can’t help but want to own it.”
My breath was out of control at this stage. His words and movements seemed to be stealing from me something I would never get back as his mouth touched mine. His lips, those sensual full lips, sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it before he bit it gently.
“I see you and I becoming one.”
With my legs pulled up between his chest and mine, he drove his hips hard as I arched up.
“Now! I want you now!” I screamed out. As I heard him chuckle, I added boldly, “And don’t tell me no.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responded against my mouth.
His lips left mine, and his hands gripped my shins. He fucked me hard, just as I had predicted he would.
I’d heard about people falling in love, and I’d heard about lust. What I had never heard of was this all-consuming need to be inside another human being.
I felt this desperate compulsion to become one with him.
This was desire. This was to crave. This was what it felt like to want.
Closing the journal, I shut my eyes in a desperate attempt to control my breathing.
It is becoming increasingly clear to me that Chantel was just as enamored by Phillipe as he was by her. If this last journal entry was anything to go by, the relationship seemed to have taken a turn for Chantel after she moved in. That’s when things started to get intense. It also appeared to be the moment when he changed and started to become more mysterious—well, to me anyway.
Another question I want answered is, What happened that morning?
Something had happened—that I’m certain of. Something had happened before he’d gone to lay down with Chantel. Something that had made him react in a needy way.
Yes, that’s it. I stand, moving to the window, as I think about that for a moment. He seemed needy that morning with Chantel, almost as though he needed her to want him, and in the end, she did. More than she ever had before.
A knock on the bedroom door startles me out of my thoughts. I make my way over to it, pulling my robe around me. When I find Phillipe on the other side, I’m shocked. He hasn’t been anywhere near my room since I arrived, and now, it has been two days since I have seen him.
As usual, the sight of him makes me agitated in some fundamental way. It usually starts with desire, before it quickly morphs into confusion.
He’s dressed in jeans today. They seem odd on him because I’m used to seeing him in his usual black slacks, but they look good paired with the blue hoodie he’s pulled on. His appearance is throwing me off-guard. Today, he just looks so normal, everyday All-American, but there’s nothing normal or everyday about this man. He exudes the sensuality of his father’s heritage as easily as he breathes.
His eyes track down over me, and I’m made very aware of what I’m not wearing. My armor. My business clothes.
“Good morning, Gemma. I thought I would come and get you myself. It seems you’ve been avoiding me,” he greets as he steps forward, not waiting for an invitation of any kind.
Then again, this is his house. Why should he wait?
“Morning,” I mutter.
I turn and watch him move farther into my room. I tightly clutch the robe around my body, and I have to actually stop myself from laughing at my own ridiculousness. The man has seen me naked. He’s touched me naked.
“Was there something you needed?” I ask, waiting for him to face me.
When he gets to the bed, he finally turns and sits on the mattress with rumpled sheets. I don’t know why, but seeing him sitting there, looking so ordinary, I find that I’m more nervous than I was the last time I was in his studio. At least, that Phillipe, I understand. That Phillipe, I expect.
“Well, there’s plenty I need, Gemma, but I actually came down here to see if there’s anything you need.”
How is he able to zero in on the very thing I have been thinking about or wondering?
Lifting my head, I shake it and lie. It seems my best option. “Nope. Nothing,” I tell him.
His lips purse, and his eyes narrow. “Are you positive?”
No, I’m not positive, I want to yell. I have a hundred questions I want to ask you as well as a throbbing clit I want you to take care of, but I’m determined not to mention any of that.
“You slept in late again this morning,” he explains, looking at the clock.
My eyes shift to it as well, and I notice he’s right. I told him I would meet him at 9 a.m., and it is now 10:15 a.m.
“Oh, I didn’t sleep late. I was reading,” I explain.
Too late, I realize his obvious trap. I scold myself internally.
“Oh? And how’s that going?” he asks while he stands, moving toward me.
“Good,” I answer. I try to be vague, but I know he’s too intuitive.
He seems to know me too well, and he knows where I’ve read up to in the damn journal. When he stops in front of me, he reaches out a hand to stroke my hair. Standing my ground, I refuse to move away, and if I’m honest, I stay because I want him to touch me.
“It was much better than good,” he assures me.
“I don’t want to know,” I tell him. Lie number two.
Bringing his free hand up to the other side of my face, he cups my cheeks, gently tugging me forward. I drop my hold on the robe and move my hands up to grip his wrists.
“Yes, you do,” he whispers across my lips. “You always have a million questions, so ask me, Gemma. What do you want to know?”
Blinking up into his curious green eyes, I take a deep breath. I decide to take his advice, and I ask him what I want to know.
“Okay, what changed for you that morning?” Before I lose my nerve, I tack on the end, “Why were you so needy?”
His mouth tilts up on the side as he leans in to place a kiss against the corner of my mouth.
“Always asking me things I don’t expect, Gemma.”