Page 20 of The Detour

“In others?”

“In others.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw, the chafe of his stubble against his hand filling the room. He looks to the floor, emits a chuckle, and then meets my eyes again. “In others, progression doesn’t matter. Chemistry. Lust. Necessity is all that matters.”

“Necessity?”

“Mm-hmm.” The simple sound rumbles through the room.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Did I just play the helpless female and act like I had no inkling of what he meant?

Damn straight, I did.

And by the way he takes another step closer and reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear, I think he heard it too.

“Maybe it’s best if I show you,” he murmurs.

“I think it is.”

From one moment to the next, we crash into each other. Demanding lips and possessive hands as we shrug out of and slip overhead any barrier preventing us from touching.

There is a frenzied desperation to touch skin as our lips move and tongues tangle and bodies find each other.

We leave a trail of clothes along the floor—shirts, socks, pants, underwear—as my every thought is Saint.

More.

Now.

God, yes.

There is no first-time awkwardness as we move through the bedroom door into the darkened room.

There is no fumbling like idiots in the dark as his mouth closes over the peak of my nipple, and I reach out to find him hard and ready as we lower ourselves to the bed.

His beard has a sensual abrasiveness to it as it teases me everywhere it touches before his mouth tempts. His hands are strong and firm and grip and grab in the most deliciously dominant of ways. And his body—its feel, its strength, its power—has everything in me craving for the next touch, the next kiss, the need for him to take me right now.

I groan when his mouth leaves my neck and then hold my breath as I watch him roll a condom over the impressive length of his cock.

He teases me with its head first, sliding up and down the length of my slit, while the thumb of his other hand adds friction to my clit.

“Please,” I all but beg as he pushes in a little farther, and my hips buck up for him to give me more.

He chuckles, but it turns into a guttural groan when he presses all the way into me and my warm, wet heat coats him.

Everything that follows next feels like it’s in snapshots of time.

My back arching as his hands grab hold of my hips.

My body singing as he works that glorious cock of his in and out of me.

My fingers gripping the sheets at my sides as he towers over me, thrust after thrust, until the need for my release builds.

One brick upon another.

One moan right after another.

My body begins to tense. My heart begins to race. My breath becomes labored.

I moan out as the orgasm slams into me like a tsunami I knew was coming but forgot how devastating it could be.