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But he blocked her way and there was pure challenge in his eyes when he murmured, ‘It’s done, Rowan, and it really doesn’t need any final check-up.’
‘You think I’m a control freak?’
‘I think we’re about to find out. Would you like me to tell you what kind of sex I’d like tonight?’
‘Um …’ Could be a test. ‘Your call.’
‘Good answer.’ He was advancing on her, backing her against the wall, boxing her in with his arms either side of her and his body heat licking at her senses. ‘If you want me to leave, tell me now.’
The best answer to that was silence.
‘I want to make you forget your own name tonight,’ he murmured. ‘You good with that?’
‘Well, you can try. Are you waiting for permission?’
Her tone would probably have been a lot more challenging had he not been dragging his lips over her neck at the time. Because all she could manage as his tongue got in on the act was a whimper.
By the time he got around to kissing her lips she had her eyes closed and her hands palms to the wall for fear of burying them in his hair and directing him where she wanted him to go. And then he coaxed her shirt up over her head, and when her arms fell they fell to his shoulders.
He didn’t need any direction when it came to getting his shirt off, or her trousers either. No direction at all as he picked her up as if she weighed next to nothing, his hands on her buttocks, his strong fingers curling under and around to tease at the edges of her panties.
She was so wet for him. The minute he touched her he would know, if he didn’t already, that all he had to do was put his hands on her and she was halfway to gone.
And then his fingers skated across the slick she was making for him, and he growled and slammed her back into the wall, coaxing her legs to open around him—and, oh, that worked for her. She spread her legs wider, rocking up into that teasing hardness, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she would like more of that.
‘Please …’ she whispered into his mouth as she wound her arms around his neck and held on.
Denim rasped against her as she ground up onto him—hard.
‘Please. I won’t break. Anything you want.’
She wanted to feel his thickness inside her so that she didn’t have to clench around nothing. She wanted the burn that came of trying to swallow him whole.
And then he took her to the counter, hooked his fingers through her panties and pulled them off. He unzipped himself next and pushed his boxers down. He took himself in hand, his eyes almost black as he breached her—just a little. Nothing more than a promise that soon … soon he would fill her up.
He opened her mouth with his thumb next. She sucked it in and got it good and wet before pulling back to nip at the knuckle. There. All done. Good job.
He was still toying with her, not giving her nearly enough of his length, and he toyed with her some more as he put his thumb to her centre and rubbed, finding exactly the right spot.
She bit her lip to stop herself from keening, but some sound escaped and his gaze, which had been fixed elsewhere, met hers.
‘There? Is that good?’
He knew it was.
His next kiss was filthy—all grazing teeth and demanding tongue.
She was riding the ragged edge of desperation, and he knew she wanted more, but he made her wait even as he built her slowly, inexorably towards climax.
She slapped one hand behind her on the counter for leverage, the better to lift her hips up and forward. Greedy … so greedy … for more pressure from his thumb and an inch or seven more. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have them to give.
He slid into her a little more—huge, hard and so welcome she could hardly stand it. Almost there … almost.
‘What do you want?’
His rumbled words licked at her as she bucked forward and she gained another inch of him, and then cried out her frustration when he wouldn’t let her have any more.
But she wasn’t going to direct him this time. She didn’t always have to call the shots. Sometimes she wanted more than anything to ditch that responsibility and have someone call them for her.
‘Anything,’ she whispered. ‘Whatever you want.’
‘Good.’ He sheathed himself all the way inside her with one mercifully hard thrust. ‘Come.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ROWAN WOKE TO a warm and touch-happy man in her bed and didn’t mind his presence at all. Not the circle of his arms or his sleepy good morning. Not the way he kept one hand on her stomach even as he rolled over to check his phone.
‘What time do you have to be at work?’ he mumbled.
She muttered something about six o’clock and pulled his phone towards her so that she could see the time more clearly. She groaned—six o’clock being forty minutes away and all.
