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I unweave my fingers from his and spin to face him. “Missed you more.”
Pressing my hands to his pecs, I trail my palms down his chest, relishing the dips and ridges beneath my fingertips. When I reach the hem of his shirt, I fist the material and tug up. The cotton hits the floor as I lean forward and press my lips to his skin.
He hisses in the dimly lit room, hands clutching my hips as I navigate the terrain with my lips. Each clavicle, left then right. The dip at the base of his throat. Down his sternum—paying extra attention to the flesh protecting his heart. I kiss my way across his left pec, drawing circles with my tongue around the nipple before pulling it between my teeth. Mimicking the same on the right.
As my lips pop off his flesh, he tugs at my shirt and whips it over my head. Before the fabric hits the floor, his fingers tug at the button and zipper of my jeans. In a blink, we flip from hungry to famished. Hands pawing, fingers grasping, lips groping.
When the only thing separating us is underwear, Jonas guides me to the bed. Slides me toward the headboard then yanks the comforter down. He crawls up the mattress, hazels locked on my golden irises. Kisses my knee, my thigh, the waistline of my panties before trailing his lips and tongue up my center to the base of my throat. He nips at my jawline as my back bows off the bed.
My bra unfastens as Jonas trails a finger along my spine. I wiggle out of the lacy material and drop it to the floor just as Jonas takes one nipple between his lips, then the next. A firestorm rages beneath my skin. Scorches me from crown to toe. Builds. Faster. Needier.
“Jonas…” I moan, grabbing at the waistband of his underwear. “I need you inside me.”
He rocks his hips and grinds his erection against my apex. His lips crash to mine and he devours me as if he will never taste me again. I shove his underwear down his legs, using my feet to push them off completely.
Jonas breaks the kiss and trails his lips down my center again, painfully slow. When he reaches my panties, inch by slow inch, he peels them away. He crawls back up the bed, locks his thermal gaze with mine, and kisses me with reverence. Cherishes me. Worships me. Then rocks his hips forward and fills me. I gasp and knead his firm glutes.
“Fuck.” He rears back and rocks forward again. And again. Building a rhythm until my body remembers his girth.
He flips us over, grabs my hips, and guides me up and down his length while I flatten my palms against his chest and ride him. I pick up speed, rock my hips as he meets me thrust for thrust. Energy builds in my chest, hot and heavy and powerful. Trailing down my spine and seating low in my pelvis. It’s liquid fire and hunger and lust and love. And as I dig my nails into Jonas’s pecs, body rocking to a feverish rhythm, I shatter around him.
In a blink, he flips me on my back, lifts one of my legs over his shoulder and pistons his hips. His lips crash to mine and I weave my fingers through his hair, fisting the strands. He braces one hand at my shoulder while the other holds my hip, pinning me in place, hitting me deeper and deeper with each thrust forward.
And my body climbs up that mountain one more time. My breath coming in short bursts. Heart pounding. Orgasm building. Heat scorching. Body dripping.
Then my body finds oblivion. And Jonas is right there with me. Kissing me. Caressing me. Whispering how beautiful I am. Holding me in his arms. Stirring me back to life. Loving me.
And that’s exactly how we fall asleep. In each other’s arms. Blissfully replete.
FOURTEEN
JONAS
Cherry and vanilla waft around me in a cloud of bliss as I wake from the best sleep in weeks.
On my back with eyes closed, I bask in the heat of Autumn’s body draped over mine. Bare skin pressed to my chest and limbs. Cheek nestled between my shoulder and pec. Arm draped across my torso. Leg tangled between mine. Her soft, shallow breaths painting my skin as her chest rises and falls. Heartbeat steady beneath her breast bone pressed to my ribs.
I want to open my eyes, shift an inch or two, and memorize the lines and curves and peaks of her face while she sleeps. In the early morning light, I want to take in the shape of her brows, where they arch and end. Study her lashes as they fan out over the small area just above her cheekbone. Trace my eyes around the edges of her lips until I follow where they join in the center. Navigate the soft edges of her jawline. Regard the movement of her eyes behind her closed lids as she dreams.
But I don’t dare move an inch. Don’t jostle her awake. Because everything about this moment is as perfect as it should be.
As I listen to the soft cadence of Autumn’s breathing, I notice it changes. Takes on a new rhythm. Grows in tempo. Her fingers twitch on my chest. Toes wiggle beneath the sheet. Jaw flexes as she licks her lips. Breasts press against my side. Hips wobble just above mine. Unhurried, she lifts her head to peek up at my face.
When she catches my eyes already on her, a brilliant smile plumps her cheeks. Seeing her like this—not a lick of makeup on her face, hair messy in every direction, lips plump and perky, irises glittery in the morning sun—steals my breath. Jolts the chambers of my heart. Robs me of every rational thought. Has me in a trance.
I return her smile as my fingertips dance up and down her spine. “‘Morning.”
She wiggles up my body, leans in and presses her lips to mine, slow and sweet. “‘Morning. How long have you been awake?”
“Not long.” I skirt my fingers up her side, from hip to the curve of her breast.
Her fingertips stroke the stubble along my jaw before she brings her lips to mine again. This kiss hungrier as she lifts her hips and straddles me. Nipples hard, scraping against my pecs. Hands planted on both sides of my face, caging me in. Her hips rock over mine, skimming my erection with her slick lips.
I take hold of her hips. Squeeze them with inexplicable roughness. Match the intensity of our kiss as I rock her core over my erection. A heatwave ripples through my body, scorching every inch of me in its wake. Dampness slickens me from root to crown. The heat converging, pooling, settling in my groin.
I bolt upright, her legs encircle my waist as her hands glide around the back of my neck, into my hair. Curling. Fisting. Tugging at the strands. I scoop my hands under her ass and lift her enough to rock back and glide the crown of my cock against her slick folds. For one, two, three strokes, I tease her entrance. On the next stroke, I lower her on to me with precision and fill her fully.
Autumn tips her head back and gasps at the feel of me inside her. Presses her breasts against my collarbones as she yanks my hair with such force, the ceiling comes into view. I don’t move. Not an inch. I wait for her to let me know she is ready. Until she drops her chin, until her addictive cognac irises lock with mine.
