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She leaned over to her nightstand, pulling out an unopened box.
He took it from her, lifting his eyebrows.
“Hey, I like to be prepared,” she said. “Although … do those things expire?”
He tilted the box to read as he opened it, checking the date. “We’re good.”
She tried to pay attention to the deft way he opened the package, but the wrapper was on the floor and he was rolling the condom over himself in one easy motion before she could get a proper lesson.
Next time.
Riley tensed for a half second as he settled over her, only to realize that the weight of him felt right, and her palms ran up his back as her lips sought his and pulled him in for another of those tongue-tangling kisses.
He placed hands on either side of her head, rising up so he could watch her face, eyes questioning.
In response to his silent question, she opened her legs wider and licked her lips coyly.
The corner of his mouth tilted up. “I should have known. Even as a rookie, you’re a tease.”
Then he moved closer, positioning himself as he slid just the slightest bit inside of her.
Riley had been fully prepared for this moment to feel strange and uncomfortable, but the slight unfamiliarity of the sensation only made it more perfect.
“Okay?” he asked.
In response, she rocked her hips upward, taking him all the way in. She watched as his eyes closed and his breath became more shallow. Sam lowered himself from his palms to his elbows, cradling her head protectively as he began to move in slow, shallow circles, giving her time to get used to him.
But Riley didn’t need the extra time.
It was as though she had been born for this moment, and every failed date, every potential sexual encounter that had fizzled out had been building toward this moment with this man.
Sam knew her perfectly. Knew she didn’t want to be treated like a delicate novice, and took the pace from tentative to purposeful as she lifted to meet him in perfect rhythm.
He nudged her knees slightly higher, widening her so that his movements ground against her most sensitive spot, and Riley moaned her approval.
“Sam!”
And then, in one blistering moment, she finally realized the true gap between writing about sex and experiencing it.
There was nothing—nothing—like experiencing an orgasm with Sam Compton staring into your eyes.
And then there was a component of sex that even Riley had never considered: that moment when you’re looking into his eyes as his body tenses. The moment when he says your name like a prayer before burying his head in your shoulder as he shakes and shudders and then collapses warmly on top of you.
This is what I should have been writing about.
But she didn’t want to share it.
Riley ran her palms over his sides, loving the crushing weight of him as their heartbeats returned to normal.
Sam propped himself up on one elbow, brushing her damp hair off her face with the other hand. “Well?”
She blinked up at him, relishing the unfamiliar sensation of postcoital bliss. “A secure man wouldn’t have to ask.”
“He would if he were bedding a sex columnist.”
Riley squinted as though considering his rating.
Then she gave the only response that seemed fitting, pulling his mouth down to hers, lightly nipping his bottom lip with her teeth. “Again.”
