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Pulling my legs up to lay flat on his chest as his hands grip my hips, he drills into me over and over, sweat forming on his face and glistening on his muscular chest.
“Harder,” I say, and he obliges. With my legs up, he’s so deep and my climax crashes over me without any warning.
When I open my eyes, he’s smiling, staring at me and probably mentally tallying that that’s number two.
Dom allows my legs to fall, then his hips find their way back between my thighs. He kisses me once before his face lands in the crook of my neck, his breathing increasing, panting and swearing and telling me how I’m made for him. He pumps hard, then with a groan, he stills inside me.
We’re two sweaty messes on the hotel bed, but he kisses me slow and unhurried until I wrap my arms around him, wishing this wasn’t just sex. When I decided on this, I forgot how much he owns my body.
Times like this, it feels as if I was made for him and he was made for me. But if that’s the case, how come we’re so wrong for each other?
* * *
Dom’s lipstrail kisses down my spine when he wakes me the next morning.
“Mmm.” I smile into my pillow, my eyes remaining closed.
“Are you sore?” he mumbles, his naked limbs sprawled over me like an octopus.
Dom always flirted his way into getting more from me unless I kicked him out. Which I did well for the first few months we were hooking up. I couldn’t take the chance that I would want more from him. But gradually, as it always does, he’d stay for a few hours. We’d share a meal that he’d make. And then on the weekends that Ryder was with Max, our hook-ups turned into a full weekend of sex and lounging around.
“Not bad.” Truth is, I relish the delicious ache between my legs from last night.
He rolls on top of me, his hand brushing my hair so it lays on the pillow while he kisses across my shoulders and up my neck. I feel his hardness pressing into my ass cheeks. “That’s good news. I ordered breakfast. Should be here in about an hour.”
“An hour, huh? How will we ever fill the time?” I grin.
He chuckles, using his strong palm to roll me over. He situates himself between my legs, his hard length already poised and ready at my opening. “I have a few ideas.”
“What about the wedding?” I ask, tilting my head as his lips travel down my throat.
“Right now I’m thanking God that I’m not a groomsman.”
“Do you think we need to talk?” I ask, unable to ignore the obvious—me being here this morning because we’re sharing a hotel room doesn’t make this feel like a hook-up.
“No, I don’t. This might not be part of the plan, that I actually get to feed you breakfast, but when we get back to New York, we’ll get you moved out of my place and figure out the annulment.”
Of course Dom has it all already figured out. He always does. Always one step ahead.
“Okay.” I’m not going to argue. When I agreed to sleep with him again, I knew the score. That’s the problem when you go back to someone a second time. Who they really are isn’t a surprise.
Just as Dom’s sliding down my torso and I’m losing any fight as to why this might be a bad idea, a knock sounds on the door.
“An hour, huh?” I ask when his head pulls up from between my thighs.
Dom puts up one finger and calls, “Who is it?”
“Carm, jackass. Open the door.”
“Sorry, busy.”
“Yeah, yeah, but cousin duty calls.”
I look at the alarm clock. “It’s eight o’clock.”
Dom gets up and puts on his slacks from where they rest in a ball on the floor. His back flexes when he runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t move.” He points at me.
I slide up the bed so my back hits the headboard. Dom leaves the bedroom and heads into the living area. The locks clink, and I hear the brothers talking.
