Free Beautiful Storm by Megan Isaacs

my chest. “He’s just not you.”
    The hand in her hair tightens and I tug her head back, finding her lips with mine in a tornado of desire. My free hand digs into the waistband of her jeans and my heart stutters a fraction before getting lost in her. When we break apart we are both breathless.
    “You’re dressed,” I point out.
    Her gaze shifts nervously around the kitchen then back to me. “Yes. I need to go.”
    I move away and take hold of my coffee, swallow down the now cold liquid, and try to control the unreasonable temper rising in me. “You’re running straight home to him?” Nothing could stop the shift in octave of my voice.
    Her nervous hands twist fingers together. “No. I’ll go to Boo’s.”
    “What’s the difference? Why don’t you just stay here?”
    “What if he tracks my phone and finds me here?”
    I slam the mug back down onto the surface. “He fucking tracks you?” Protectiveness I’ve never felt so strong hits me, slamming me hard in the chest.
    Her shoulders drop. “I can’t take the chance. I can’t deal with the repercussions if he did.”
    “What repercussions?” I demand. Something’s not right here, there’s a tight tone to her voice.
    She storms out of the kitchen, throwing over her shoulder, “Just leave it, will you?”
    “Turn your fucking phone off,” I yell after her.
    I take a few minutes to calm down and leave her to do the same. I’m not angry with her. I’m angry with the cocksucker. I’m fucking livid he gets to call her his, and I don’t.
    When I finally give in and head upstairs, I find her lying on the bed. Her eyes are shuttered closed and the heaving in her chest tells me she’s still upset with me. I don’t blame her. I’ve no right, or even any reason, to demand she answers shit. And if she thinks it’s best to go to Boo’s then who am I to stop her? That doesn’t stop me from staring at her, almost as if memorising every line, every curve of her perfect body.
    I sink down onto the bed next to her. “I’m sorry.” My voice is low and soft; I don’t like seeing her upset.
    Her eyes open and she fixes me with her gaze, before releasing me to stare into space. “This is too hard. We need to stop.” There’s no conviction in her tone and she can’t look at me.
    Fuck. I need her eyes on me.
    “No.” It’s out of my mouth before my brain can engage. But there’s no way this is stopping. Not now. Not fucking ever.
    A sad smile forms on her lips as she returns her gaze to me. “I thought this was just entertainment to you.”
    Was it? Maybe. Is it now? Fuck no. It’s so much more.
    “I like having you in my bed.” I scrape my hands through my hair, and then let out a low, frustrated breath. Admitting this is huge for me. “I like being around you. A lot.”
    “Really?” She searches my face.
    I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but I hope she finds it, because I can’t say what I’m really feeling. “Yeah.”
    “I like being around you, too.” Her dejected face disappears, replaced by a naughty look. “And I like you having me in your bed.” She wants to play? Now?
    “Then leave him. Be mine.” I say it with conviction. My pulse increases with the request.
    The grey storm in her eyes comes alive and then fades. “I… Noah…” She sighs. “I wish it were that simple.”
    I want the light back. I fucking demand it. “I can make it simple.” My body covers hers within seconds. My thighs encase her hips and I pin her hands behind her head.
    Her tongue peeps out from between her pink lips, sweeping over the bottom one. The small movement strikes me right in the dick. And I want her again. It’s like I can never get enough, never get deep enough inside her to take the edge off the need.
    “I’m not going to fuck you.” My cock quite clearly demands something entirely different.
    Her smile widens. “Really? And why’s that?”
    Yeah, Noah. Why the fuck is that?
    “Because I want you begging for me. I want you