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He had to be inside her.
She reared up off the bed and jerked at her remaining bonds. He slipped his finger through the knot and it gave way. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. She pulled him down on her and he grunted as his straining cock slammed between her wide-open legs. Her warmth bled through his denim.
He reached between them to get the zipper down.
To get inside her.
He didn’t want ties or bonds, he didn’t want anything but her and him.
Not even a condom.
He looked down at her. “Denver.”
“Pill,” she muttered. “Safe. Inside me. Inside me.” She chanted it over and over again.
He couldn’t have denied her a single thing. Then, or ever.
He shoved down his jeans and shorts until his cock sprang free. He had to push it down to get near her. It was curved up and so tight to his belly it ached. He swirled the head along the slick center of her and he hissed at the first contact of warm, wet flesh.
As much as he wished he had the control to tease her some more, he was beyond that right now. There was nothing but her vising pussy taking him inch by inch until he was seated completely. His balls slapped against her body and he threw his head back, every muscle locked so he wouldn’t come right away.
She wound her legs around him and took him deeper. Held him tighter. The heels of her feet dug into ass and then he was gone. He drove into her, his cock pistoning again and again. Until his brain was a roaring mass of insanity and she melted around him.
He curled his arms under her and clasped her shoulders just as tightly. He pressed his mouth into her neck and roared her name as his balls tightened and his need to come rolled over him like a melody trapped inside his head. She was the only one who could make all the chaotic notes inside him into the perfect rhythm. It demanded freedom to become the song of his heart, and he let it go.
He came so hard his thighs cramped and the room went dark with it. Then there was peace. A moment of absolute clarity and connection. He could do nothing but hold her closer.
Rolling them onto their sides, he yanked off his twisted jeans and shorts, then fisted her hair to drag her mouth to his. The kiss was fire and clashing groans before it slowly eased into a meeting of lips and breath. Each inhale centered him and each exhale seemed to calm her as well.
She curled into him and he held on to her until her body went slack and her breath evened in sleep. He continued to hold her until sunlight tinged the skyline from black to a soft, buttery yellow. Until he couldn’t hold out against the emotional exhaustion crashing into his body’s pressing need for sleep.
And even then, he didn’t let her go.
Chapter Eighteen
“I suck at ties. Every time, it’s like I’m incapable of getting them right.”
“Not true. There’s some ties you’re excellent at.”
“Ahh, yeah.” She heard the smile in his voice. “Guess that’s true.”
From her position on the bed, Denver adjusted her long, sparkly earrings—a recent, unplanned acquisition along with her new dress—and took in the sight of her normally unflappable guy pulling at his tie as he got ready in front of the bathroom mirror. He was so cute when he was grumbly, not that she’d ever tell him that.
“But since you said it, allow me to inform you of your errors.”
“If you must.” She could still hear that same smile, tingeing every word.
“A, you went with a suit instead of a tux. B, you should’ve gone with a bowtie. C, you’ll look handsome no matter what you wear, so stop your bitching.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh. “Now she tells me about the tux and bowtie. How would I know about any of this crap? I’m the son of a guy who tunes pianos and fixes horns. That reminds me though.” He left the tie dangling around his neck as he stepped into the doorway between the bathroom and bedroom. “My folks want to meet you.”
Her first response was to laugh it off and maybe go dig through her duffel for some skimpy lingerie to distract him. She was already dressed for the awards show, but that wasn’t the point. The last thing she wanted to do was fight after they’d come so far, but God, did he have to drop another bomb of domesticity on her while she was still reeling from telling him about some of her past?
Not to mention agreeing to tell Donovan they were a couple. Along with Lila and the band—not that the band didn’t know after the Keith show, but still—and maybe radio interviewers and magazine editors and who knew who else. Soon, everyone would know that she and Ryan weren’t just gleefully fucking with glorious D/s overtones, but were a thing.
A real, honest-to-God thing.
Okay, so probably the D/s overtones weren’t obvious outside the bedroom. Denver tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. At least she didn’t think so.
