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“Gibson.” Breathless as she said his name, the word came out in too many syllables. She wriggled her lower body closer to his and stroked the heavy ridge outlined by the sweats he’d pulled on after their shower earlier. “I need you.”
He throbbed against her hand, but his concentration never broke from the attention he gave her breasts. He did move his hand over her bare belly though, his knuckles rasping over her tender skin in a way that gave her shivers. Her thighs fell open in invitation, and he cradled her core in his palm, easing the ache there with skillful fingers.
Or was he adding to the ache?
Both things seemed to happen at once, one pleasure driving the hunger for another.
How would she ever walk away from this—from him—in the morning?
Refusing to think about it, Lark reached into his sweatpants, ignoring the drawstring to find what she wanted. He’d gone commando, so there was nothing in her way as she stroked the velvet-over-steel feel of him.
“Did you bring condoms out here?” she asked, thinking the bedroom seemed a million miles away when she wanted him now.
Her heart rate galloped. She felt quivery everywhere at once.
“Left pocket,” he informed her as he plunged two fingers inside her.
Making her cry out with pleasure.
Her hands forgot what they were doing as he crooked his fingers forward, finding the spot only he knew how to find deep inside her. He’d been the one to introduce her to the exquisite sensations there in the first place, and she’d never bothered seeking it out on her own. For her, solo play had always been quick and efficient. Not the hours-long extravaganza that this man could make of intimacy.
But now, it felt like a million years since she’d come this way, the pressure and tension building fast.
“Hold on to me,” he entreated, one strong thigh sliding over hers to keep her still.
Wrapping her arms around him, she steadied herself, meeting his dark gaze in the firelight. Intense. Sexy.
“I’ll take care of you next,” she promised, wondering how he could stay so focused when she was spinning out of control already.
She bit her lip, not sure if she wanted to ward off the finish or let it roll over her.
“I know you will. But first, you’re going to let me take you where you need to go.” There was something about the way he said it. His absolute assurance that he knew what she craved.
Because the words sent her over the edge, her feminine muscles contracting hard and fast around his fingers where he touched her. Her whole body shuddered with it, hips lifting off the floor, spine arching.
And through it all, he worked every sweet sensation free, leaving her thoroughly pleasured and more than a little dazed. It took her long moments to come down, but when she did, she returned trembling fingers to the drawstring of his sweats, tugging it loose so she could slide off his pants.
Fishing in the left pocket, she found the foil packet and rolled it into place.
“Your turn,” she reminded him, pushing him over.
He went without argument. If anything, his brown eyes flared with fresh flames as he watched her straddle him.
“I dream about this moment,” he admitted, his voice rough with desire.
Or at least, she told herself it had to be desire and not emotion. Her chest throbbed an answer anyhow. Possibly because she’d dreamed about this, too.
Her throat was too dry to speak.
Instead, she gripped the length of his shaft and guided him home. His moan mingled with hers as she remained there, fully seated so she could feel him deep inside her. Then, lifting up on her knees, she stroked him up and down. Up and down.
Remembering the slow build he liked.
Remembering everything.
The rhythms that had belonged solely to them. There was nothing boring about sex that was fine tuned for maximum pleasure. Sex that fulfilled one another’s every hidden need. They’d sought out all the erogenous zones. Knew how to drive each other to the precipice over and over again.
“Go as slow as you want, gorgeous,” he drawled from beneath her, his eyes still fixed on her with that intense heat. “I could watch you this way forever.”
