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“Morning.”
As the sound of the rich masculine voice sashayed into her unconscious, Hope slogged through the many inviting layers of sleep that separated her from the real world.
“I have coffee.”
The devil himself knew her weaknesses and used them to tempt her.
“It’s hot.”
The reality of this morning, Rafe and his promises of love and their many tomorrows, was far more inviting than her dreams. With a soft smile, she allowed her eyes to drift open.
Rafe, her man, her lover, was beside her in the bed, propped on one arm. He smelled of spice. His hair was damp, and an errant drop of water clung to his forehead. Except for a white towel wrapped around his waist, he was naked. At some point, he’d opened the blackout drapes, allowing soft sunlight to filter into the room. His eyes were cerulean, and his gaze was riveted on her.
“Should I make love to you now or after coffee?” he mused.
“Don’t make me think you woke me on false pretenses.”
“Coffee, instead of this?” This being his dick, protruding against the towel.
“Nothing is more important than your almighty cock, Mr. Sterling.” She paused. “Sir.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “I need you, sweet, sweet Hope. I need you. I love you.” He moved her beneath him, kissing her, murmuring words of love, nipping her earlobe.
Heat and the hunger for reconnection poured through her. “Please…”
Rafe pinned her arms above her head.
“I need to touch you.”
“In a moment,” he promised. “First, keep your wrists together.”
He was maddening, infuriating…hers.
Rafe kissed his way down the column of her throat. He was intent, filled with purpose as he cupped her breasts, imprisoning them while he sucked on each nipple in turn. She writhed, struggling to follow his orders. Not grabbing hold of him was sweet torment.
When her nipples couldn’t take any more attention, he traced a finger down her torso, over her belly, then between her folds. She’d missed his touch, and her body was on fire for him.
He made tiny circles on her clit and she arched toward him. “Rafe!”
“You can manage this,” he told her.
“I…” She moved her head to the side and saw he was studying her reactions.
Connection arced through her. Though he was familiar with her body, this was as special as their first time.
He dipped his finger inside her, seeking her G-spot.
“Oh God.”
“You were made for me.” He found her sensitive flesh and she cried out. “Are you going to come for me, Hope?”
“If you let me…Sir.”
His eyes blazed at her acknowledgment that she wanted his dominance. “This morning, yes. This afternoon, maybe not.”
She shivered at his promise of more to come.
He pressed his thumb against her clit as he stimulated her insides.
Hope screamed his name. Without warning, she came with a powerful shudder. She wasn’t sure anything had ripped into her like that one. It was more than physical. It was her newfound emotional response.
She expected him to enter her, but he didn’t. Instead, he lowered his mouth to her pussy and teased her until she cried his name.
“Now, maybe you’re ready for me.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything left.”
He knelt between her legs. “I’m betting there is.”
Every part of her—her breasts, nipples, pussy, feelings—was consumed by him. He teased her entrance with his cockhead, making her groan. “More.”
“Greedy,” he said, but his smile showed that he liked her need.
He slid in a fraction of an inch, then pulled back, leaving her wet and throbbing. He went deeper with the next stroke, and each of his movements seemed calculated to ensure she fixated on them and the relationship they were building.
“You may touch me now.”
Exhaling her relief, she did, trailing her fingers across his skin.
“You’re so perfect for me, sweet Hope.”
He filled her completely, making her scream at his girth and penetration. Hope dug her fingers into his hair and wrapped her other arm across his shoulders, using a bit of force to leverage herself up to allow him greater penetration.
