Free Release by Brenda Rothert

to hold on to as my senses assaulted me.
    This closeness allowed me to take in the spice of his cologne and the rigid lines of muscle on his back. My body took over, craving more – practically begging for it with soft moans of satisfaction and the molding of my body into his.
    “You feel so good,” he whispered in my ear before pulling my earlobe gently between his teeth. My sharp intake of breath was followed up with a moan that came out as a whine. I tuned out my reservations, letting myself give in to him.
    He leaned back and looked at me. His hair was a mess from me running my hand through it and his blue eyes were dark and hungry. For me? A fresh surge of longing for him ran to every nerve ending in my body.
    His eyes never left mine as he brought a hand to my breasts, a ragged breath escaping his lips as he brushed his thumb over one nipple. He circled it a few times, making me press my hips up against his. His erection made my body hum with arousal. The hard, enormous bulge that fit against me so perfectly told me that he wanted me, too. I wasn’t worthless or disgusting to him.
    Another low groan rumbled from his throat as his thumb stroked across my other nipple.
    “I can feel how hard these are through your shirt and bra,” he said. “So fucking hot, Samara.”
    As he spoke, he gently squeezed my entire breast and I moaned again, my eyes sliding closed for a second.
    “Feels … so good,” I mumbled, knowing I was out of control. His hands just felt too sublime. Whether it was a good idea or not, I didn’t just want this – I needed it.
    “You’re absolutely stunning when you’re turned on,” Orion said softly. His hand slowly worked its way under the bottom of my shirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of my stomach.
    The alarm in my head blared, waking me from my coma of arousal.
    “No,” I said, squirming beneath him. “No, stop.”
    He backed away from me, his eyes wide with confusion.
    “I can’t do this,” I said, scrambling off the couch. I ran a hand through my hair and searched for the shoes I’d kicked off when we got down here.
    “Shit, I’m sorry Samara,” he said. “I didn’t mean—”
    “It’s not you, it’s me.” I found my sandals and slipped them on. “I have to go. Right now.”
    A flicker of hurt crossed his face. “Don’t go. Can’t we talk about this?”
    “No.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “I need to be alone right now. I have to go. I’m sorry.”
    I turned for the stairway, stopping when he spoke.
    “Samara. Your car’s still at the pool. I’ll drive you.”
    I started for the stairs again. “I can walk.”
    “I’m driving you. We don’t have to talk, but it’s getting dark and I want to make sure you get to your car.”
    He was off the couch now, his tone flat. Was that disappointment in his voice? Probably. I’d just left him in a state that probably didn’t feel too great right now.
    We walked to the car in silence. Thank God, we managed to not run into his mom. I wasn’t up for saying goodbye to her right now. I was on the verge of tears, my chest uncomfortably tight.
    I stared out the passenger door window the whole way to the pool, unable to look at Orion. Shame – the emotion I knew better than any other – had flooded me.
    He pulled into the parking lot and I saw my dark red sedan.
    “I just need to say that whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he said. “Please text me later and let me know you’re okay, Samara.”
    “I’m okay,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. As soon as his car was stopped, I opened the passenger door and flew into my own car. I focused on starting it and driving away, not letting myself look at him.
    Stupid, stupid girl. I wasn’t like him, and I’d let myself forget that. I wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

    Orion

    I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand, eager to see if Samara had texted me back.
    There was a message from one of my coaches checking in to make sure I was working out and