Read Online Beyond Layers: Layer Series Book Four (Layers Series 4) by TL Alexander - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: TL Alexander
Tags: Romance
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callused stick-holding hands run all over me, without pause, as if they can’t decide where they belong.
“Sam,” he moans.
“Logan,” is all I can say, literally, as he devours my lips. He’s going to eat me up whole and God help me, I so want to be eaten.
He grips my ass, lifting me, pushing me higher up the wall. It seems effortless, as if I were a one hundred pound, petite little thing. It makes this five-nine, long-legged chica feel like she’s finally met her perfect six-two match. Met a man strong enough to take care of all of her. ALL OF HER!
“Damn, angel,” he moans as his warm lips journey down my neck. I try to tilt my head in an effort to give him easier, better access. But he won’t let me move; I’m his captive.
His lips pause on the swell of my right breast. His neck is at such a tight angle, he must release his hold on me if he intends to travel further. He looks up at me and without saying a word, lifts me up and away from the wall. My legs wrap around his waist and he carries me into the master bedroom, laying me on the bed.
Taking a step back, he seems perplexed, as if he doesn’t know what to do with me. It’s empowering, yet unnerving.
When he doesn’t move or say anything for several long beats, I break the silence. “Logan, are you all right? We don’t have to—”
He bends over me, trapping me between his arms, silencing me with his lips. “Angel… I’ve never wanted anyone… anything more. I just needed a minute to mentally pinch myself. From the moment I saw you, sitting on the beach, head back, eyes closed, a smile planted on your lips, I was intrigued. Then the sun tucked behind a cloud, your eyes opened and you looked up at me with eyes unlike anything I’d ever seen, and knew I had to have you. I can’t believe I’m here.”
“Logan, believe,” I whisper against his lips.
Our lips separate and he hovers over me. I watch brown eyes turn black as aching, raw lust consumes them.
“Logan,” I plead.
A sexy half grin is his only answer to my plea. He says nothing as he lifts my short sundress up and over my head, tossing it aside.
Taking me in, he sucks in a breath. “Angel,” he whispers and trails a strong, callused finger between my breasts, down the center of my belly, dipping into my navel before zigzagging its way to my hip.
As he hooks the string of my next-to-nothing panties, tugging them down and off, leaving me completely exposed, the other half of his grin makes an appearance.
He grins as his eyes graze over my bare flesh, consuming me. Their intense scrutiny makes me feel wanton, reckless and… flawed. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, but I can’t help but wonder what he sees, what he thinks. Is he comparing me? Do I stack up? Do I fall short?
He’s a player and I must be one in hundreds. Even though I knew this, I owned it; the thought of him with all those other women makes me…. Stop it, Sam; it doesn’t matter. This is a hook-up, a nothing but the now, the moment. It can never be more. It can never be real.
“Stop it, angel. I know what you’re doing, what you’re thinking; I can see it in your eyes. You are perfection, a vision. I knew you would take my breath away, but I never…”
I feel my flesh heat from his spoken and unspoken praise. But I can’t stop the doubts, the insecurities, and the fear from sprouting like fertilized weeds. What the hell is wrong with me? You know what’s wrong. You want to please this man, make the sadness in his eyes disappear . You feel kindred to him, attached to him in some unknown way. And it scares the shit out of you . But there’s more isn’t there, Sam? It’s Lane. He’s built an invisible fortress around you, not letting anyone touch you, not letting anyone near you. And you hate him for it, don’t you? You hate that he left you, and that he wanted to share you.
“Samantha, look at me.”
I do.
“Stop thinking and just feel.”
Tears threatening, I say, “I’m trying,
“Sam,” he moans.
“Logan,” is all I can say, literally, as he devours my lips. He’s going to eat me up whole and God help me, I so want to be eaten.
He grips my ass, lifting me, pushing me higher up the wall. It seems effortless, as if I were a one hundred pound, petite little thing. It makes this five-nine, long-legged chica feel like she’s finally met her perfect six-two match. Met a man strong enough to take care of all of her. ALL OF HER!
“Damn, angel,” he moans as his warm lips journey down my neck. I try to tilt my head in an effort to give him easier, better access. But he won’t let me move; I’m his captive.
His lips pause on the swell of my right breast. His neck is at such a tight angle, he must release his hold on me if he intends to travel further. He looks up at me and without saying a word, lifts me up and away from the wall. My legs wrap around his waist and he carries me into the master bedroom, laying me on the bed.
Taking a step back, he seems perplexed, as if he doesn’t know what to do with me. It’s empowering, yet unnerving.
When he doesn’t move or say anything for several long beats, I break the silence. “Logan, are you all right? We don’t have to—”
He bends over me, trapping me between his arms, silencing me with his lips. “Angel… I’ve never wanted anyone… anything more. I just needed a minute to mentally pinch myself. From the moment I saw you, sitting on the beach, head back, eyes closed, a smile planted on your lips, I was intrigued. Then the sun tucked behind a cloud, your eyes opened and you looked up at me with eyes unlike anything I’d ever seen, and knew I had to have you. I can’t believe I’m here.”
“Logan, believe,” I whisper against his lips.
Our lips separate and he hovers over me. I watch brown eyes turn black as aching, raw lust consumes them.
“Logan,” I plead.
A sexy half grin is his only answer to my plea. He says nothing as he lifts my short sundress up and over my head, tossing it aside.
Taking me in, he sucks in a breath. “Angel,” he whispers and trails a strong, callused finger between my breasts, down the center of my belly, dipping into my navel before zigzagging its way to my hip.
As he hooks the string of my next-to-nothing panties, tugging them down and off, leaving me completely exposed, the other half of his grin makes an appearance.
He grins as his eyes graze over my bare flesh, consuming me. Their intense scrutiny makes me feel wanton, reckless and… flawed. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, but I can’t help but wonder what he sees, what he thinks. Is he comparing me? Do I stack up? Do I fall short?
He’s a player and I must be one in hundreds. Even though I knew this, I owned it; the thought of him with all those other women makes me…. Stop it, Sam; it doesn’t matter. This is a hook-up, a nothing but the now, the moment. It can never be more. It can never be real.
“Stop it, angel. I know what you’re doing, what you’re thinking; I can see it in your eyes. You are perfection, a vision. I knew you would take my breath away, but I never…”
I feel my flesh heat from his spoken and unspoken praise. But I can’t stop the doubts, the insecurities, and the fear from sprouting like fertilized weeds. What the hell is wrong with me? You know what’s wrong. You want to please this man, make the sadness in his eyes disappear . You feel kindred to him, attached to him in some unknown way. And it scares the shit out of you . But there’s more isn’t there, Sam? It’s Lane. He’s built an invisible fortress around you, not letting anyone touch you, not letting anyone near you. And you hate him for it, don’t you? You hate that he left you, and that he wanted to share you.
“Samantha, look at me.”
I do.
“Stop thinking and just feel.”
Tears threatening, I say, “I’m trying,
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