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He located another foil packet in his wallet, then covered himself and returned to her. Slowly, he sank into her, inch by inch.
She gazed down to where their bodies joined. “Your cock is perfect,” she said, the bliss from her last orgasm still lingering in her dreamy brown eyes.
“Drunk on sex again?” He withdrew, just slightly. “Or are you trying to boost my ego?”
“It’s your mouth.” Her head fell back against the bedding. “It’s intoxicating. The way you use your tongue…you have every right to feel cocky.”
“I’m glad we cleared that up,” he said, his voice low and raspy. He was about to come for the third time that night, but he still couldn’t hold back. “I’d hate for you to leave thinking the ice machine did all the work.”
Her hands cupped his jaw and held his face over hers. “No, it’s you.”
He stared down at her as her hips rocked up to meet him thrust for thrust. The movements felt basic, primal, and hell, when she tightened around his dick, fantastic.
But when she reached up and held his face in her hands, the rough, jagged lines on her cheek drew his attention. His jaw clenched, and this time it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was buried inside her. He wished he could take the bastard out. Hell, he felt at home wiping out the bad guys. If given the chance, he would destroy her foster father with his bare hands. No second-guessing. No fears.
But here, making love to a woman who should be cherished, worshipped, and loved, dread rose up. Hurt and heartbreak were the last things she needed in her life. And if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t make a clean break tomorrow—
“Cade! Oh, God, Cade!” She released his face, grabbed his ass, and held tight to him.
He felt the climax overtake her body. And he followed her over the cliff, into the place where orgasms reigned without reservation.
After what felt like a lifetime of mind-blowing pleasure, he collapsed on top of her. He knew he should move, roll to one side, but his body refused to cooperate. Plain old missionary had taken everything he had.
Beneath him, she wiggled and somehow managed to escape.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, rolling to his side, wanting to see her if he couldn’t feel her beneath him.
“I’ll give you five minutes to recover,” she said. “Before you join me in the shower.”
Standing beside the bed, naked and sticky from the last round, she looked entirely comfortable in her own skin. The woman he saw now wouldn’t ride him with a bathrobe tied around her waist. She wouldn’t hide behind insecurities. And more than anything, he wanted her to hold on to that feeling with both hands.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said. “But five minutes isn’t enough.” After that last round, he doubted he would be able to lift his pinkie toe anytime soon, never mind the part of his body she’d just worked out.
“Are you sure?” She placed her hands on her hips. “It’s time for number one.”
“We need to work on your understanding of the male anatomy.” He rolled to his back and stretched his arms overhead. “That’s just not possible.”
“Ten minutes,” she said, her gaze lingering on his stomach for a second before she turned away.
He tracked her movements and followed the sway of her hips as she bent at the waist and scooped her purse off the floor. The sight of her ass in the air…
“I could be ready in eight,” he conceded.
She picked a tube of lipstick out of her purse and walked over to the closet. She opened the door, revealing the full-length mirror inside. Then she used the lipstick to write their names on the mirror.
“What are you…?”
“Scoreboard,” she said. Beneath his name, she added two red lipstick lines. And under hers, she added three. “Eight minutes.” She placed the cap on the lipstick. “And then we even the orgasm count.”
We’re already even. You’re forgetting about the gold-medal hand job.
“The restaurant doesn’t count,” she said as if reading his mind. “That wasn’t on your list.”
She walked out of the room without pausing, as if she didn’t have a shy, insecure bone in her body—which left him with only one reason to join her in the shower. He wanted to see her kneeling on the shower floor, the water running between her breasts as she pressed them together.
He heard the water turn on and groaned.
“Time is almost up,” she called.
