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His head rose and our gazes crashed together. Lust and that all-consuming love filled his endlessly fascinating eyes. Believing in that love still felt like stepping off a cliff, but he made me want to fly.
Slow, leisurely strokes built until his jaw went to granite with tension.
I knew he was close.
Knew his body almost better than by own. I wanted to watch him go over. I needed to.
I tipped my hips and nearly made my own eyeballs roll back into my head. There was something to be said for a man who was very proportional. Especially when it benefited me so much.
“Don’t make me go alone.”
“Never alone. Not ever again.”
His eyes went wide just before I wrapped around him—my legs, my arms, and I sealed my mouth over his. I swallowed his groan, accepted that he was mine, and offered him the same.
He trembled in my embrace, his release so complete that we both melted off the desk on to the floor.
I giggled as all six-feet-four of him took up the entire Aubusson rug. He was splayed out on his back much as I had been on his desk a few minutes ago. This time, I was laying over half of him.
I’d lost my borrowed shirt somewhere, but PMS still wore his. I dragged my nail down his chest and snickered at the missing button on his vest. “Not sure when that happened.”
He lifted his head to look down at himself. “Worth it.” His large hand covered mine.
I laid my cheek against his chest. His racing heart slowly synced up with mine until we were breathing together. With his other hand, he played with my tangled hair.
“Ry—”
“I love you, Preston.”
“What?” His head came up so fast, he rapped it on the underside of his desk. “Ow!”
I laughed. “Are you okay?”
He rolled us until we were face to face, both of our heads under the desk. Sunlight slashed across the floor, gilding part of his disheveled dark hair and highlighting half his face. “Say that again.”
I brought my hand up to cup his jaw. “I love you.”
He covered my hand. “You’re not just saying it because I gave you four orgasms, right?”
“Okay, pal. It was more like two.”
“Definitely three.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve never said the words in post-coital bliss.” I looked down at his mouth. “Never said them to any man, actually.”
He nudged up my chin. “No one?”
I blinked away the sting of tears. “No one mattered enough to give the words to. Not until you.”
He tried to sit up and whacked his head again. “Fuck.” He inched back, dragging me with him.
“Hey, watch the rug burn, PMS.”
“Sorry. I just can’t have this conversation under my damn desk.” He fixed his pants and dragged me into his lap, straddling him. “Let’s try this again.”
“I’m not going to offer up a soliloquy.”
“I wouldn’t expect one. But you’ve truly never said it to anyone?”
