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But if she warned him, he might not want to make love to her at all.
She could always fake it. She had heard enough stories from friends over the years to know the male ego was a fragile thing, especially when it came to sex. But they could be fooled. All she had to do was arch her back at the right moment and cry out before collapsing in what appeared to be the aftermath of energetic lovemaking.
She rained kisses down his chest, showing him that she wanted him without words. The salty taste of his skin on her tongue fueled her desire. His hand tangled in her silky hair, and he lifted her head for another intense kiss.
He let her go as he moved away from her. “Sorry,” he said. “Am I going too fast again?”
In answer, she took his belt off. When her hands fumbled with the zipper on his expensive trousers, he removed them himself. He stood before her in nothing but gray boxers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to discover he’d been the model for the statue of a Greek god—she couldn’t remember the name—she’d seen in a museum.
“Do you want to get in bed?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. “Or do you want me to get in first?”
Unable to speak or even to think coherently, she went on gut instinct. With both hands on his chest, she pushed him backward. He landed on the mattress with a surprised grunt. The time for hesitation was over, and she didn’t want to hear him ask another teasing question about moving too fast. She was on the verge of losing her mind. If they didn’t make love soon, she might spontaneously combust.
She straddled his body. In her rush to show how ready she was to be intimate with him, she forgot she was naked from the waist up. Arms at her sides, her breasts were fully exposed to him for the first time. Her nipples peaked through a cascading blond curtain. The urge to cover them overtook her, but she fought it. Hiding from him was ridiculous. They were about to make love. He should be able to look at her in the light if he wanted.
His large hands weighed the soft mounds, pushing them up slightly on both sides. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensations running rampant through her body. His thumb and forefinger teased a nipple. He pinched it with just enough force to start a fire between her thighs.
Skylar rolled her beneath him. He landed between her legs, at home in her feminine cradle. They were a perfect fit. Like a magician, he suddenly had a shiny square in his hand. The foil crinkled as he ripped it open with ease. A condom. In her passionate frenzy, she’d forgotten to ask about birth control. She wasn’t on the pill or anything.
His fingers pulled at the pink lace panties, but they refused to budge. An ache developed inside her that could only be eased by joining their bodies. She started to offer to remove the panties herself. The material tore. He tossed them to the side.
“I owe you an undergarment,” he said in the groove of her neck.
She wrapped her legs around him. “Take me... please... now.”
Bigger than she thought he would be, he filled her, stretching her to the limit. Fireworks exploded behind her closed eyelids. It took her a moment to realize what was happening to her. Waves of pleasure repeatedly washed over her entire body.
Skylar brought her to the brink again and again.
She gripped his shoulders and rode out another orgasm with him.
After what had to be a marathon lovemaking session they fell asleep in each other’s arms. She drifted off thinking of him. She loved him. No doubt about it. Should she tell him? Should she say the words?
She dreamed about telling him several times that night, each with a different outcome. Sometimes it was good and ended in loving kisses. Other times she found herself abandoned on the side of the road. Bereft. In the end, she decided to keep her mouth shut. She’d let him say the words first.
