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“Baby, you’ll get splinters.”

“I don’t care,” I rasp, angling my pelvis, soft to his hard. His hands slip underneath me, grabbing handfuls of my ass.

I am so here for this. I’d die and be happy right now. Well, maybe in ten minutes.

“You’re so . . . fuck.” His harsh curse echoes right through me—through flesh and blood and bone. And as he bites over my nipple, everything inside me draws tight like a knot . . .

Chapter 19

Clara

“Oh my God, yes. There.” The heavy press of his cock, and I’m a wire wound so tight, I’m already on my way to that ricochet snap. “Please, I need . . .”

This. Him. The moment. This detonation. It’s been so long.

He says my name in a low rumble that is so, so sexy. His teeth scrape my tender earlobe and . . . “Oh, God.”

“Jesus.” His body surges over mine, his skin hot to the touch. The sensation of him notched between my legs exquisite, and his tortured groan is everything.

“Yes, there.” I dig my teeth into the strip of muscle straining between his shoulder and neck.

You feel . . . Yeah, just like that.

I’m not sure who says what as hands grasp and tongues slide. Troy gives a solid thrust of his hips, and every inch of my skin begins to tingle like I might just burst. I buck, and he rocks. I cry out, and Troy curses again. And then my eyes spring open to a room of white.

I hear his breath. Inhale the sleepy musk of his skin and taste the salt of his sweat. The moment is heaven, and it is hell. It’s everything I need and nothing I deserve when Troy jolts away as though he’s just been cattle prodded.

“Ohmygod!” My head pounds, but that’s not the only place I’m throbbing as my breath comes in sharp, sharp bursts. I rub my chest, really rub, then look down as I realize my pajama top is open and my left boob is hanging out. I die. “Oh my God—stop looking!”

“Clara—”

“Still looking!” I squeak, trying to shove it back inside, which is hard, given my fingers seem to have turned into sausages.

“That was—” he begins.

“An accident,” we finish in unison.

“Are you crying?” He looks stricken, but I shake my head.

“Of course not,” I retort, swiping at my cheeks while pretending not to be intimidated by his glare.

“Did I hurt you?”

Did I will this moment into existence? “Don’t be ridiculous.” I clutch the flannel in my fist. “You would never . . .” I know. I’m the one who causes hurt.

He nods, his hair falling over his forehead. I curl my fingers against the hem of my pajama shirt and watch as he swallows thickly. I get it because my heart is in my throat too. Passion and shock make for a terrible cocktail. The comedown is unpleasant, and the anxiety very real.

I accidentally kissed him at our first meeting, and now I’ve somehow teleported myself into his arms during an R-rated sex dream of the past. What the heck must he think of me—and after I made such a big deal about sharing a bed?

“I’m sorry.” The words spurt from my mouth, but then my eye catches the tenting of his shorts, and something inside me gives a resonant throb. I close my eyes, but the image seems to be tattooed on the walls of my brain. That’s not a little tenting, a tiny voice whispers. More like a great big yurt.

I wonder if he’s gotten bigger there too. No—no, I don’t!

Ohmygod, am I on my way to becoming a sex pest?

“I was having a dream.” The words fall fast as I brush the bird’s nest from my face. “I was asleep, and . . . I don’t know what happened. It has been a while.”

His eyes flash with something like fury, and my stomach sinks.