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“My hair. My makeup.”
“I’ve seen your bed head. It’s perfect.”
She scoffed, but the look on her face, the flush of pure pink blanketing her cheeks, said she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. “I still need to figure out what I’m wearing. We have like twenty minutes. Tops.”
“I’m at my best under pressure.”
She reached down and palmed the front of his trousers, biting her lip. “So I feel.”
He growled into her ear, nipped at her lobe. Her touch made him feel as if he might not last twenty seconds if he wasn’t careful. The lower half of his body was buzzing with the prospect of claiming her. “Either we do it in the hall, or you take me back to your bedroom.”
She grabbed his hand and rushed down the corridor. He loved watching her move like that—feminine curves in hurried motion. Even better, he eyed her beautiful bottom as he removed his jacket, tie and shirt while she gathered a pile of clothes from her bed and tossed them onto a chair. He stepped behind her as she threw back the quilt. She turned. Her bare breasts brushed his chest.
“Pants. You’re still wearing pants.” Melanie unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his trousers. “Be careful. There’s no time for ironing.”
He fished the condom from his pocket, handed it to her and slung his pants over the footboard of her bed. He stepped out of his boxers.
Melanie raised an eyebrow and perched on the bed as she tore open the foil pouch. “Do you always walk around with a condom?”
“I brought a ring, Buttermilk. Of course I brought one.”
He sucked in a sharp breath when she held him in her slender fingers and rolled on the condom. He kissed her, tasting her sweetness, lowering her down onto the bed. He stretched out next to her, pressing his lips to her shoulder, the graceful contour of her clavicle. Her skin tightened when he flicked her nipple with his tongue. He reached between her legs, moved his fingers in a steady circle at her center. She moaned in appreciation. He dipped lower with his hand, finding her more ready than he could have hoped for.
“Make love to me, Adam,” she muttered. “I need to feel you.”
It wasn’t just their schedule that had him eager to oblige. The lusty purr of her voice fueled the blood flow between his legs. He’d never felt so primed.
He settled between her legs, gazing at her wide blue eyes and sexy smile as he eased inside her. She was impossibly warm, her body responding to his with subtle squeezes. He grappled with the wealth of pleasure—her beauty, the way it felt to be inside her, the fact that they’d finally worked through their problems—it would’ve been so easy to surrender to the physical sensations and close his eyes, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. He’d waited too long.
She locked her legs around him. He wanted to take his time, but there was so little, and he already sensed that she needed more. She arched her back, lifting her hips to meet him. Her head rolled to the side, her eyes closed. Her supple lips went slack, breaths becoming shallow. He kissed her neck, thrusting deeper, wanting her to know every inch of him. He knew her peak was about to rattle them both—she was already gathering around him in strong, steady pulses. She dug her fingers into his back, her breaths short and fast.
His entire body was as taut as a rubber band stretched to its limit. Her internal muscles continued to squeeze him, faster now. The instant she let go, he gave in to it, too. Swells of bliss crashed over him—again and again, subtly fading into contentment. He collapsed at her side, breathing heavily. She curled into him and peppered his face with sweet, delicate kisses.
“That was amazing, but I can’t wait until after the gala when we can just do that all night long,” he said.
“And don’t forget that tomorrow is Sunday. We don’t have to get dressed at all tomorrow if we don’t want to.”
He clasped a hand behind her neck and kissed the top of her head. “I love your beautiful brain.”
“And I love you.”
Better words had never been spoken. “I love you.”
Melanie popped up onto her elbow, glancing over her shoulder at the clock. “I hate to say this, but we need to bust a move. The car will be here to pick me up in fifteen minutes.” She pecked him quickly on the lips, then hopped off the bed and began rifling through the clothes she’d dumped on the chair.
He plucked his boxers from the floor, thinking about what she’d said—her car. His limo and driver were still downstairs waiting. Practicality aside, going to the party separately was ridiculous when he’d had his fill of absurdity over the past few weeks. “You taking a separate car makes no sense.”
