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“Kayla?”
“Hmm?” I look up from the V-shaped muscles at his hips that direct my attention lower still.
“Too distracted by your own distraction to take off your clothes?” he teases.
“Yes.”
He closes the space between us in two long strides. His hands find the edge of my shirt and draw it over my head. I cup his angular jaw between my hands and draw his mouth to meet mine.
Kiss him.
I focus on a singular mission while he wrestles me out of my pants and underwear. Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls my naked body against his. His hands glide down my back, moving lower and lower until he’s guiding my legs up. My thighs press against his hips as he lifts me into his arms. Then he’s moving, carrying me to the bed.
Our kiss breaks as he lays me down on the soft bedding. Then he joins me, his body nestled between my legs, and I draw his mouth back to mine.
He pulls away and stares down at me. “Don’t move. I need to grab a condom.”
“Okay.”
I stay on my back, my mind spinning out of control while I lie there naked. He’s digging in the nightstand drawer. After a few seconds, I prop myself up on my elbows and look over at him. “Problem?”
“I need to check to bathroom.” He glances back at me. “Please. Stay right there.”
“I will.” It’s an easy promise to a man with the most perfect body on the planet and a face that literally convinces people to buy watches they probably don’t need. He disappears into the attached master bath. He emerges a second later holding a strip of foil packets and triumphant grin.
He tears open the condom wrapper, covers himself, and joins me on the bed. His mouth finds mine as his hands runs up my leg, testing to see if I’m ready.
“Please, Gavin. I need you.”
The words slip out, riding the wave of desire that slams into me as his fingers explore the place where I would very much like to feel his condom-covered cock right about now.
But then I remember that I’m supposed to be offering him comfort. This man needs to feel loved.
He removes his hand and slides into me. And, oh God ….
“Gavin!”
My hips rise up to meet his thrusts. I need to … I have to tell him that I love him. But, oh God … not now. I can’t shout out “I’m in love you” while he’s driving in to me. Oh, he knows I love him. But this goes deeper …
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. His lips brush my ear. Then he kisses a trail down my neck. One of his hands runs over my arm. He guides my hand over my head and pins it there. Thrusting into me at a frantic pace that leaves me panting to keep up, he moves my other hand over my head.
With my arms pinned overhead, I arch my back and my breasts rise up. He’s staring down at me with a feral gleam in his eyes. It’s a look so far removed from friendship and hugs. Judging by the ferocity in his gaze, Gavin Black wants to make me his.
I stop moving for a second, waiting for the fear to descend like a blanket threatening to smother me. I can’t belong to him. I need to be me. I can’t lose myself in him.
And I won’t.
His brow furrows. “Did you come?”
“No, I was just …” I can’t finish the sentence. I can’t tell him I’m waiting for the terror to descend any more than I can profess my love while he’s buried inside me.
“Needing a little more?” he growls. Holding my hands above my head with one hand, he runs the other down my body. “Tell me where to touch you.”
“Everywhere,” I whisper because I’m not afraid. Oh, I’m his all right. But he’s mine too. And maybe, just maybe, if I show him that I find him desirable and, oh God, capable, he’ll begin to believe it himself.
He thrusts harder and faster as his fingers tease my nipple. And I can’t help it. I cry out “I
love you” as the orgasm rolls over me. My eyes are closed, savoring the pure pleasure, but I hear him growl, “I fucking love you too.”
