Love Me Knots by Dee Tenorio Page A

from her eyes. She’d cried the last time, too, and he’d ruined everything by not paying good enough attention. Letting his need for everything to be just fine get in the way. Not this time.
    He reached out, touching her temple where the tears had melded into her wet hair. “Don’t cry, Krista.”
    She shook her head, her lips shaking. “Why are you doing this to me? I’m finally trying to do the right thing for both of us. Why are you making this so hard?”
    His whole body ached to join with hers. To ignore the emotional storm in her eyes. Instead, he reached for her hand, lifting it so he could place it over his heart. “You know why.”
    She pulled her hand free. “Missing me isn’t love, David.”
    “Then what is it?” What was it that made him feel absolutely hollowed out at the thought of never being with her again? Never touching her, never seeing her smile at him with that complete abandon that only she had. Wasn’t it love, then, that drove him past all reason and sense whenever she needed anything from him? That drove him to put her needs—the ones he knew about, anyway—ahead of his own? That made him willing to give up anything, even his soul, if she just asked for it?
    “Let me give to you, Krista.” Give the only thing he knew how to give her right. He leaned over her, his kiss so desperate that even he knew he was this close to begging. “Hear what I’m trying to tell you.”
    “I can’t,” she whispered against his mouth, and he couldn’t tell if the pain in his heart was hers or his own. But she held on to him, kissing him back. Her legs squeezed around him and her arms wound over his neck. He started to pull back, not sure at all what she meant, but she clamped tighter, lifting her hips to his. She groaned into his mouth, releasing her hold only when he burrowed his arms beneath her shoulders. How could she be so close, yet give him the insidious impression that she was slipping irrevocably away?
    “It’s not enough,” she growled, her hands snaking between them, scrabbling at his belt. She had him free in what felt like seconds, her hand gripping his shaft tight, directing him into her heated slickness. She ran him through her wetness, the head gliding just past her opening and angling up over her clit, where she stroked them both against each other well enough to make him grit his teeth. Just when he couldn’t take any more, she dipped him downward. He surged into her, pushing deep and fast. She cried out, her walls tightening around him while her knees rose on either side of him.
    Her fingers, he understood somewhere in the back of his fevered mind, hadn’t released him. She kept two of them and her thumb wrapped around the base of him, stroking with each movement of their bodies. He quaked, too much sensation robbing him of any chance of regaining concentration. Her other hand grazed his belly with each thrust, her rolling knuckles a tease he’d never felt before. Like a shock to his brain, he realized she was touching herself, stroking them both past oblivion.
    Thought of any kind incinerated.
    Recklessly, he plunged into her, conscious only of her wild cries and the tight, convulsing grip of her body. She arched beneath him, the angle of her hips changing from merely drugging to utterly mind-bending. Lost, he felt the end coming at him like a freight train. Too soon, too strong, the climax surged over him, robbing him of his breath and his strength like electricity streaking down his back.
    Overwhelmed, he dropped his head to her chest, listening to her heartbeat settle from its rampaging pace to a steady one that gave his something to align itself to. He allowed himself to melt over her, lax and sated.
    But not quite satisfied.
    Something had been different. She had been different.
    He lifted his head, catching his breath, but she wasn’t looking at him. When she brought her hand to his shoulder, she didn’t seem to have any difficulty in pushing him away. Confused,