“Madoc, damn it!” I tried to sound angry, but it came out as a whimper-cry-beg instead. “I’m about to hump the damn bed! Please!”

Looking over my shoulder, I soaked in his sexy-as-hell smooth, tanned chest and six-pack that I wanted to lick. “I need you,” I mouthed.

He must’ve seen the pleading in my eyes, because he reached over to his nightstand and plucked out a condom. Ripping it open with his teeth, he pulled his pants and boxer briefs down and kicked them off his feet. I held his eyes as he rolled it on. I held his eyes when he knelt on the bed and lowered himself on me.

But I lost him when he arched one of my legs up, my inner thigh lying flat on the bed, and nestled himself between my legs.

As he positioned both of his arms on the bed next to each of my shoulders, he leaned down over me, his hand under my chin, and tipped my head up to meet his lips.

Oh. He covered my entire mouth with his, and slipped inside of me, slick and fast.

I whimpered into his mouth.

“I love you,” he groaned against my lips.

I reached behind me and clutched the back of his neck, closing my eyes and absorbing every back-and-forth movement of his body as it thrust into mine.

Grinding my teeth together, I sucked in air as he drove deeper and faster, his body sliding up and down my back.

His long, muscled forearms at my sides flexed and tensed, and each time he entered me, I started moaning at the pleasure of what he could do to me that I couldn’t do to myself. I think people called it the G-spot, and he was really good at finding it. I started squirming against the bed, pushing up against him to increase the speed. The faster he went, the more I felt it.

His hot breath hissed in my ear. “No patience tonight, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” I moaned, not lessening my speed one bit. “I’ll make it up to you. This position is just . . .”

My belly started to swirl with butterflies like I was free-falling, and my insides tightened and released. I dropped my head to the bed and arched my ass up to meet him and held it there as he slammed into me.

“Oh,” I moaned, feeling the burn, and I went wild, seeking him faster and harder.

Until he stopped.

What?

WHAT?

My eyes burned with fear and anger, and the pulse between my legs raced.

Before I even had a chance to turn around, though, he grabbed my hips, yanked me up on all fours and entered me again.

“Oh, God!” I cried out, steeling my arms and widening my legs as he slammed into me just as hard and fast as before.

“This position is even better,” he remarked, holding onto my hips.

His f**king cocky tone.

And then I was gone. I tightened around his cock, throbbing and bursting as the orgasm scorched my insides, making my heart jump into my throat.

My forehead fell back to the bed, but Madoc didn’t stop and didn’t relent in his pace, even after my orgasm had passed.

And that was mind-blowing, too.

Continuing to feel him after I came was so good. He squeezed my hips, moving faster and faster. Damn, I loved his power.

He grunted a couple of times, breathing hard and finally drove as deep as possible two more times before spilling and slowing his pace until he was done.

Collapsing back to the bed, he finally let me fall, too.

My cheek rested on the bed, and my sweaty hair was stuck to my face. Or maybe his hair was stuck to my sweaty face.

Whatever.

CHAPTER 24

FALLON

I often wonder if the past looks better to people because they hate the present so much or if it looks better because it was better. Expressions like “the good ole days” implied that life used to be of a higher quality than it is now, but I think everything looks better in retrospect. After all, it’s not like we get the chance to go back and relive it knowing what we know now and test that theory.

Except for me.

I did get to come back home. To a place I hated. A life I didn’t want. And to a boy I despised.

And even given all of that, I’d still missed Madoc. I never stopped wanting him and loving him.

I had still been obsessed with hurting him even though in the pit of my stomach the ache of needing him still burned. I thought for sure I would come home to a revelation, like: Why did I ever think I loved him, or What the hell was I thinking?

But no. In this case I didn’t remember our time together fondly because I wanted to. I remembered it fondly because it was that good.

I remembered the truth. Not some watered-down, sugarcoated version my mind whipped up after time dulled the pain.

It really was that good.

“Madoc,” I warned in a playful voice.

He breathed a laugh in my ear. “You’re so warm everywhere,” he said, spooning me. “And still wet.”

His arm was draped over my waist with his hand rubbing between my legs.

We’d fallen asleep last night after a much sweeter and calmer round of lovemaking, and I was exhausted. After barely getting sleep the night before, the long drive back to Shelburne Falls, discovering the boxes in the basement, and then coming back here last night, I needed rest and food.

But I still smiled, because I knew why he’d woken up early.

He was probably on high alert even though he didn’t realize it. His subconscious probably thought I was going to skip out when he was asleep.

“I was dreaming about you.” I yawned and then nestled my nose into the pillow. It had the scent of his cologne all over it, and I just wanted to pull the sheet over my head and crawl into his smell.