Savior Complex: A Small Town Love Triangle Romance

And I want more.

I deepen my kiss, gripping his neck as if I’m going to fall through the earth without him to anchor me. In response, he sweeps me off my feet, lifting me into his arms as if I weigh nothing. I break our kiss, gasping in shock.

“I got you,” he says, kissing me again. “But if I don’t get you naked now, I’m going to go out of my mind.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

The words are barely out of my mouth before his mouth claims me again. His tongue brushes over mine in a way that leaves me lightheaded and needing more—so much more. We’re moving, but I don’t know where until he’s laid me on the hard couch. Making quick work of my clothes, I lie naked before him, and he takes a moment to drink me in.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes running over my body. Just his gaze alone feels like his hands are already on me. I arch my back, closing my eyes as I feel heat bloom in my core. He groans in response, and then his mouth clamps down on me. It’s so sudden, I cry out, then moan as his tongue finds my most sensitive parts. He stops suddenly., and I open my eyes, looking at him like what the hell.

“This couch is hella uncomfortable,” he says, a grimace of apology on his face.

“Right?” I grin, feeling vindicated even if I also feel like there’s been a disturbance in the force. “My room is a pit, but it’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than this seat coffin.”

He needs no further prompting. He gets up, looks at me and grins. His clothes are off before I can even stand, and I have half a mind to find out what he tastes like. But when I stand, he smacks my ass.

“Get upstairs,” he growls. I don’t need to be told twice. I lead the way up the stairs, only a little self-conscious that he has a full view of my jiggling ass on the journey there. I open the door, relieved that I actually cleaned my room this week, save for a few outfits that didn’t quite make it in the hamper. I retrieve them quickly and stuff them in with the rest of the dirty clothes, and start to look around for anything else that needs to be hidden. But he catches me off guard, spinning me around so that I land on the bed. It’s so smooth, the way he has me on my back, my legs propped up with him kneeling before me.

“I’m not turned off by your mess,” he says. “Nothing about you turns me off. I want all of you, even the things you think are imperfect. To me, every part of you is perfect, from your beautiful mind, your caring heart, and your perfect,” he leans down and kisses my waiting pussy, “delicious,” he kisses it again, followed by a swipe of his tongue—and a squeal from me—“hot as fuck body.” This time he stays, clamping down while I squirm beneath him—rather, squirm as best as I can. He has a firm grip on my hips, and he anchors me in place while his tongue bathes me, alternating between hardened strokes and silky-soft glides. The guessing leaves me lightheaded, and soon I feel myself open, the ember inside me igniting into a flame, then a firestorm, then a blazing inferno as I let myself go under his touch. He plucks my erect bud between his lips, sucking lightly in a way that has me screaming his name, the waves rolling over me like the waves on our beach in Texas. I ride the current, and he lets up only when I can’t handle anymore. He stands, licking my moisture from his lips before crawling over the top of me and kissing my mouth. I taste myself on him, and it’s so utterly erotic.

For years, I’ve hated my body, been embarrassed by every part of it. My smell. My shape. Anything that made me feel vulnerable and unattractive. But tasting myself on him … It’s like I can see myself through his eyes. I like the way he smells when he smells like me. I like tasting him when he tastes like me. I feel beautiful when he looks at me, and I want to be seen by him.

I lean over to my side table and retrieve a condom from the nightstand and hand it to him. He rises from the bed, and I watch as he slips it on, noting the ripple in his solid abs, the peaks of his broad chest. I take in the length of him, marveling at how I can look at his cock and think it’s as beautiful as any art piece in a gallery.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, kissing my lips as he straddles me. He doesn’t rush to enter me, which is both sweet and aggravating. I want him in me. I want him to fuck me hard. But I also don’t want it to ever end. And this—the pillow talk, the way he’s just enjoying my company without needing to be inside me—it means more to me than he knows.

“I was just thinking how I will never grow tired of this,” I murmur, running a finger along his cheek. “Of you. I’ve never had someone treat me this way, or love…” I pause on the word.

“Love you like this,” he finishes. He places a hand over mine on his cheek. “I love you, Nina.”

“I love you, Brayden.”

He kisses me again, his lips soft on mine, his hand gently resting at my throat, his body pressed against me as his cock nudges at my entrance. Then he pushes in slowly—so slowly—as if he, too, wants to make this last forever. I weave my hands into his hair, tasting him with lingering kisses, and he whispers sweet words in between.

“You feel so damn good.”

“I want to drink you in.”

“I can’t get enough of you.”

“Look at me.”

At those last words, I do, my eyes finding the blue of his. I feel the last puzzle piece click into place, the distance between our souls diminishing as our bond locks together. We keep eye contact the whole time he moves inside me, as I arch into him, as he cups my face, as I grip his ass. The intensity of it all washes over me, running straight through me, and I come for the second time this hour, all while he continues to insist I look at him. Only after I’m completely sated does he allow himself to finish, exploding inside me as I lock my lips with his.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Nina

The day of the wedding arrives, and I wake up with a start, the butterflies already churning tornadoes in my belly.

Brayden has been at my house almost every night this week. I know he and Jordy broke up, but I can’t help feeling like we’re playing with fire, like she’ll somehow catch on. At this point, though, would it matter? Because after today, the secret will be out.

It’s why I’m nervous. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited too. Knowing we won’t have to sneak around is an exhilarating thought, and a reality I can’t wait to experience. But this could be the end of me being a part of my family forever. Sure, the bridge has been burned time and time again, but this final act could incinerate it.

As much as my family drives me crazy, I don’t know if I can handle complete exile.

Still, if these nightly visits are just a taste of what’s to come, I’ll take anything life throws at me. My mind drifts to just last night, my body still aching from all the ways he wore me out and put me to sleep before he slipped out. Now that he has his own key, his comings and goings are on a whim, and I find myself watching the door constantly.