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Though I hadn’t had the guts to admit how desperately yet.
He thrust into me again and I bit my lip, the sensation edgier and more intense than regular sex. Need built in me like a tsunami—looming there. I fought hard to hold back the tide, my fingers aching from my grip on the rug. But I knew I had only seconds of resistance left in me, especially with this bombardment of new sensation. It was too much, too good, too sweet. Foster slipped a hand onto my belly, angling me just right, brushing over my clit. The move seemed to send fire into my blood. I whimpered into the carpet, my brain going fuzzy with half-formed thoughts and fully formed desperation. “Foster, I can’t . . . please, sir.”
“Go for it, baby. Let me feel you come around me,” he said, his voice belying his own dwindling control. He draped himself over my back, and reached around to remove the clamps.
The blinding rush of sensation returning to my nipples shot through me like lava, making me scream and collapse to the carpet, my arms trapped beneath me. Orgasm rumbled on the heels of the pain, bursting through and crashing over me. Sounds I didn’t know I was capable of dragged from my throat.
“That’s it, angel. Let it all go.” Foster didn’t break stride. He thrust into me with long, steady strokes, his body blanketing mine and stealing my breath in the best way possible.
I was pinned beneath him, writhing, helpless, his weight and motion dragging me against the shaggy carpet. The soft fibers teased my skin, tickling my clit and sensitized nipples, driving me past the point I thought I could take. I clawed at the edge of the rug, my noises and movements turning animalistic, primal. I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything but let him have me.
Foster braced his forearms next to my head, and he rocked deep into me, his muscles tightening, his breath ragged in my ear. He was right there with me. Beyond control. Beyond restraint. Then his low, guttural moan twined with mine, and he was pulsing, his hot release jetting inside me.
And for that suspended moment, we were one—two bodies fused in the heady bliss of shared ecstasy. Two hearts . . .
I closed my eyes and rode the last waves of pleasure. Then, when my spasms finally quieted, I laid my cheek against the carpet and did the only thing my body could manage—I succumbed to the exhaustion.
—
My mind was drifting, my body surrounded by warmth and my limbs languid and heavy, like floating in a sea of gooey caramel. Lovely. I attempted to nestle deeper into the sensation.
“Cela?”
The voice seemed to come from both far away and inside my head at the same time. Was someone calling me? My lips parted to respond, to ask who was there, but instead everything came out muffled and slurred.
“You awake, angel?” a familiar voice asked, the words soft.
Foster.
That pulled me from my dream state, dragging me back to the memory of what had happened tonight. I blinked, trying to clear the fog in my brain, and the flickering orange glow of a fire filled my vision. “Maybe.”
Foster, who’d apparently been stretched out along my backside with his arms around me, shifted from behind me and sat up, tucking me back into the cozy corner of the couch. He smiled down at me, pushing my hair off my forehead. “I was starting to worry you weren’t going to wake up until our flight in the morning. Your parents already think I’m some crazed, obsessive boyfriend who stole you away. They would really hate me if I caused you to miss Christmas.”
“You have no idea,” I murmured, adjusting myself so I could sit more upright. I was wrapped tightly in a blanket, though I had no memory of how I’d ended up that way. Subspace, for the win. “Plus, Andre would kill me if I bailed. He’s going to drop the I-kiss-boys-too bomb on them.”
“I have a feeling lots of spiked eggnog will be consumed over this holiday.”
“Count on it. But hey, we should thank him. It will take some of the spotlight off of us.” I smiled. “I’m sorry I fell asleep, guess I was more exhausted than I realized.”
“No, it’s fine. I put you through a lot tonight. I think your body finally waved the white flag.”
I rubbed my eyes and glanced around, trying to get my bearings now that I didn’t have a blindfold on. But when I looked to the left, I had to do a double take. A wall of windows overlooking the slope of a hill and a moonlit lake beyond spanned the far side of the room. What the hell? The Ranch didn’t have any hilltop cabins. I peeked behind me, finding an archway to a large gourmet kitchen. And they definitely didn’t have cabins this modern or this big. Confusion swamped me. I turned back to Foster. “Where are we?”
He glanced toward the stretch of windows. “We’re in a place I never thought I’d come back to again—the house my family moved to after Neve disappeared. I own it.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You own a house?”
“Yeah, have for a few years. My parents left it to me when they built their place in Florida.”
I let my eyes drift around the room, over the expensive furniture, the beautiful stonework around the fireplace, the polished wood floors. The place was gorgeous and, from the looks of the shadowed hallways, huge. “I think you could fit your entire apartment into this room alone. Why haven’t you used it?”
He sighed. “It’s a great house and view, but the times I spent here were some of my roughest—lonely years. I basically lived here with a rotating herd of paid caretakers while my parents traveled doing their charity work and chasing leads about Neve.”
I frowned, reaching out for his hand, knowing that, though his parents were making an effort to build some sort of relationship with him again now, there were still decades of hurt to heal.
“The last Christmas I spent in this house, I was fifteen. We had this monster-sized tree. It touched the ceiling and had hand-painted ornaments from Paris. It could’ve been in a showroom or the centerpiece on some TV holiday special. Beneath it were enough presents to fill a dump truck. From the outside looking in, the place looked idyllic, like every kid’s dream. But if I hadn’t invited Pike over, I would’ve spent Christmas alone. My parents had a benefit in New York for their foundation. Pike and I spent the night getting drunk on peppermint schnapps while burning wrapping paper in the fireplace to watch the flame turn colors.”
The sadness that crossed his face made my heart hurt for him all over again. My parents may have smothered me, but at least I was never short on attention or love. Christmas at my house was so full of people, there was hardly space to sit down. “Oh, Foster.”
