Page 137 of Fake it for Keeps

“Fuck, Hallie,” he groaned. “That feels so good.”

I looked up at him through my lashes and found him watching me with an intensity that made my core clench. His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his hand gentle but firm in my hair. His fingertips massaged my scalp.

I increased my pace, taking him deeper, using my hand to stroke what my mouth couldn’t reach. His hips started moving in small thrusts. I relaxed my throat to take him.

“Hallie, I’m close,” he warned.

I didn’t stop. I wanted this. Wanted to give him this pleasure on our wedding night.

His grip tightened in my hair, and then he was coming, his whole body tensing as he groaned my name. I swallowed, taking everything he gave me, not stopping until he was completely spent.

When I finally pulled back, he was looking at me like I’d just performed a miracle.

“Come here,” he said, his voice rough.

He pulled me to my feet and kissed me hard, not caring about anything except having his mouth on mine. His hands roamed over my body, cupping my breasts through the lace, sliding down to grip my ass, pulling me against him.

“Bed,” he murmured against my lips. “Now.”

He walked me backward until my legs hit the edge of the bed, then gently pushed me down. I scooted back until I was in the center. He climbed on after me, his eyes on fire.

“My turn,” he said.

He started at my ankles, kissing his way up my legs, his hands following the path of his mouth. When he reached the lace tops of my stockings, he paused.

“These are staying on,” he decided. “They’re too fucking sexy.”

I laughed, but it turned into a moan as his mouth moved higher, kissing the inside of my thighs. He hooked his fingers in my panties and pulled them down slowly, tossing them aside.

Then his mouth was on me, and I forgot how to breathe.

He was thorough and deliberate, using his tongue in ways that made my back arch off the bed. My hands fisted in his hair as he worked me higher and higher, building the tension until I was trembling.

“Colt,” I gasped. “Please.”

“Please what?” he murmured against me, the vibration sending shocks through my system.

“I need you. Inside me.”

He kissed his way back up my body, pausing to unhook my bra and toss it aside. His mouth closed over one nipple while his hand teased the other, and I writhed beneath him.

“Colt,” I said again, more urgently this time. “I need you now.”

He positioned himself at my entrance, and then paused, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“What?” I asked.

“No protection,” he said. “We’ve never done this without a condom.”

My heart skipped. He was right. Even when we’d been pretending, we’d always been careful. But now?

“We’re married,” I said softly. “We don’t need protection anymore. Unless you want to wait.”

“Nope.” His answer was immediate. “I don’t want to wait. I want to feel you. All of you. Nothing between us.”

“Then do it,” I whispered. “Make love to your wife.”

He pushed inside me slowly, and we both gasped at the sensation. It felt different without the barrier—more intimate, more intense, more real.