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??I don’t think so.” I kissed her throat. “Your choice.” There was a wide hedge of tropical plants and flowers. Someone would have to go out of their way to see what was happening on the porch.
“Balcony.” She breathed.
I grinned. She was perfect. I lifted her into my arms. I hated that she was smaller than when I left. I knew it was my fault. The hollow lines on her stomach. The bones on her hips. But I’d love her back whole. I would take care of her. And I’d never leave.
My mouth covered hers. I couldn’t get enough. I never would.
I wasn’t built to love. I wasn’t that kind of man. I didn’t get attached. I didn’t make memories and relish moments. I had never been that man.
Until I met Elliot Charles.
I spun her in my arms, so that her hands were planted on the railing.
Her back rubbed against my chest, while I stroked her breasts. Her nipples hardened at my touch.
“Ohh,” she moaned.
I couldn’t take it. She drove me wild.
My hands slid over her back, pushing her forward, hiking her hips toward me. I pushed my cock between her legs. As she jutted her ass higher I slid into her heat, wanting to bury myself inside her. Needing her warmth. Craving her pussy. She clenched and tugged around me.
I pumped hard. Drove into her. She called my name with ragged breaths.
“Vaughn, tell me,” she begged.
And that’s who I was. I was Vaughn Hunter to her. That was the man she loved. The one she needed. I would be him.
“I love you,” I moaned. “I love you, Ell.”
“Oh, God.” She rocked into me so I plunged deep to her core. “I love you too.”
We scaled a sexual peak in record time. My spine gripped with tension just as I released inside her. She screamed my name as her own orgasm hit.
“Fuck, Ell. Fucking insane,” I groaned.
I held her while her body jolted with pleasure. Bursts of electric sensation.
Her forehead rested on the railing, but I scooped her in my arms and carried her back to bed.
I kissed her as she nuzzled against my chest.
“There’s your moonlight sex,” I joked. I felt drunk off her. Drunk enough to fuck her again. All night. Every night.
“We have to leave tomorrow?” she asked. “I like the islands.”
“We can come back.”
“When?” She propped up on her elbows.
“Depends on how long the France job takes. And if there is one right after. I’ll bring you back, though.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. I knew she was thinking of another question. She never had only one.
“If you don’t like it will you tell them no?”
I exhaled. “It’s not like that. I don’t make those kind of calls.”
