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And Hallie’s orgasm blew in without warning. Like a door flying open during a hurricane. She whimpered, legs turning to jelly, and very nearly dropped into a heap on the floor. But Julian moved fast, supporting her with his upper body, his mouth heating her neck while his hand never stopped moving. Hallie had never wished more fervently for better camera angles in her life, because she couldn’t see the way Julian guided his erection up into the juncture of her thighs. Not touching her. Just stroking himself faster, faster, into the opening between her legs, just above her tugged-down panties, their aroused parts never meeting. But she felt him everywhere nonetheless.
“Jesus Christ, this is out of control,” he rasped into her hair. “I’m not in control.”
“That’s okay.”
“Is it?”
She nodded, but he couldn’t see the way she bobbed her head, not with his face buried in her neck. And then his free hand slid around to palm her backside, massaging it roughly in his hand—and her fingers turned slippery again. She began stroking her too-sensitive flesh, because there was no help for it. No stopping. No easing the twist of those deep, deep knots growing more complicated beneath her belly button, twining and snaring, urging her fingers to increase their pace. Their pressure. Oh God, oh God.
“Good, Hallie,” he muttered thickly. “Is that pussy going to give it up twice?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
He pressed his mouth to her ear. “God. The way you lost it when I wrapped my hand around my cock. I’ll be thinking about it for years. Decades. How many times do you need to be on the schedule per day? Three? Four?” The swollen head of his arousal pressed flush to her mound and they both moaned, body jolting against body. Shaking. And when he ground himself there, against her fingers and, in turn, her clit, a second climax drew all of her muscles tight and let them go rapidly, leaving pulsations in its wake. The throb throb throb of release. “Jesus. You had to be so fucking sweet.”
Julian crushed her against the island, his muscles coiling, his big shoulder pressing to her open mouth—and he jerked, groaning as he left warm moisture on her inner thigh. Two, three, four stripes of liquid heat, until he slumped against her, the sounds of the storm roaring back in along with the pounding of hearts.
For long moments, she could only stare off into space. In utter wonder.
Her first sexual experience with a man, beyond kissing, and it had blown her preconceived notions out of the water. She’d been right to be picky. Even without a lot of experience, Hallie somehow knew not all men would turn her on like Julian had just done. Nor would their pleasure make her own so much fuller.
And yet, as breathless and exhilarated as she felt, there was something in the air.
Something stirring.
Julian’s hard body stiffened a little more with every passing minute, but he hadn’t quite caught his breath. Not the way she had. And when he finally pulled away from her, it was more of a ripping apart than anything. Like a Band-Aid being torn from skin, it took a piece of her along with it. She caught a flash of thickly rooted flesh as he rearranged himself back in his pants, and then he paced to the other end of the kitchen, plowing a hand through his hair.
Several seconds ticked by while he said nothing.
It didn’t take a genius to know he had immediate regrets.
For his hasty behavior. For letting his body make decisions for itself.
For engaging in something unplanned and spontaneous . . . when that was something he never did.
They’d agreed from the start that he was control and she was chaos—and he was obviously feeling the impact of that now, unable to look at her while fixing his clothes, that groove between his brows deeper than ever before.
Not only had she caused him to lose the control he needed so badly . . . she’d discussed the letters with him. Openly. As if she hadn’t written them. Sure, the fact that he was quoting from actual correspondence was never said out loud, but she’d known. She’d lied by omission, hadn’t she? She was given every opportunity to stop, too, and she didn’t take it. Even now, when she had the chance to confess, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, because he was visibly shaken by what they’d done. How would it help to tell him she was his secret admirer?
“I have to get home to walk the dogs,” she said, sidestepping to yank the shorts up her legs and buttoning them with unsteady fingers. “The next phase of planting shouldn’t be for a few days. Next week, most likely—”
“Hallie.”
His hard tone propelled her toward the front door. “I really have to go.”
