Promise to Love You (Wild to Love #5) by J. Saman



She laughs. “I think you just did. Jesus. Size thirteen shoe really does correlate.”

I hold myself still. Giving her a second to get used to me, sure, but how does she know my shoe size? That’s hardly common knowledge. Only the guys and—

“Move. Please, I need you to move.”

I do. I clear all thoughts from my head and start to pound into her. One hand on her hip, the other tangled in her long, thick hair as I take her over and over again. Her hands are all over me. In my hair. Digging down my shirt. Scraping along the fabric over my chest, abs, and arms. Her eyes are closed, her head is back, her mouth is open, and I’m looking at her. I’m watching her.

Yet another thing I never do. What the motherfuck is going on?

“Harder. Yes. Holy hell, Henry, just like that.”

Her eyes flash open, locking on mine. That with the combination of my name on her lips does something to me. It drives me into her harder. Deeper. I press against her and I consume her mouth. Our bodies move in sync, our rhythm increasing and Jesus it’s perfect. Just so ungodly perfect. I feel her body start to convulse around me, her moans turning into cries as she writhes in pleasure, coming without restraint. I follow her over the edge, the air sucked from my lungs as I grunt and groan and growl, losing my mind as flashes of light dance behind my eyes.

My forehead lands against hers, our breathing ragged.

Bemused laughs slip past her lips as she lowers her body back to the ground. I only now realize I had lifted her up. “Well, that was unexpected.”

It absolutely was. In the best of ways. I stare down at her through a fan of lashes, wanting to lick at her smile. Maybe I can stretch this a bit longer? Break my rules just this once? All I know is the idea of walking away from her and never seeing her again feels—

“I certainly didn’t think that would happen when I came here tonight to meet up with you guys.”

That pulls me up short. “You came here tonight to meet up with us?”

Her eyebrows furrow as she adjusts her clothes, putting everything back in place. “Of course, I was. Why else would I be here?”

Dread pools low in my gut as horrible pieces of the puzzle start coming together. I tie off the condom, sticking it into my pocket, and tucking my dick back inside my pants, zipping up. “What’s your name?”

“My name?” she parrots, pain flashing across her face quickly followed by anger. “You don’t know who I am? Are you fucking kidding me?” She stares at me, waiting for me to laugh or tell her I’m joking. She puffs out an incredulous burst of air. “You really didn’t know who I was, did you?” She scrubs her hands up and down her face. “I can’t believe this. I thought…” A humorless laugh escapes her lungs. “How stupid. I thought after all these years, you finally wanted me back,” she murmurs that last part, more to herself than to me, but I hear it all the same.

“I’m sorry…”

Her hands fall and her eyes—narrowed slits of fury—ensnare mine. “Eden Dawson. You know, your bandmate’s, your best friend’s, little sister. You remember me now, right?” she spits, vitriol dripping from each syllable. “You’ve only known me my entire fucking life.”

“Eden.” I choke on her name. Keith’s baby sister. How could I have…

Guilt and remorse clog my throat. I reach for her and she shoves me away.

“Don’t touch me. You’re such a piece of shit. How could you not have known?!”

“God, Eden. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t realize. I haven’t seen you in a few years and you look so different. Nothing like Keith or your other sisters. I swear to God, I didn’t know. I would never have touched you if—”

She smacks my face. Hard. Flashes of pain prickle across my cheek, a trail of burning heat closely follows. I stare into her blue eyes, not even the slightest bit stunned. I deserve so much worse than that. She’s right. I am a piece of shit. The absolute worst sort.

Because I didn’t recognize her. In fairness, I made a point never to notice Eden Dawson or any of Keith’s sisters. The last time I saw her, she was sixteen and looked like she was twelve. She was not this woman standing before me.

Christ. Her brother will murder me where I stand. Deservedly so.

“Just go.”

I shake my head, trying to touch her again only to drop my hand at the last second. I don’t deserve her touch or forgiveness. Still… “I can’t. Eden—”