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“Torture maybe.” I pull back as he tries to lift his hips. “Why now?”
He holds my eyes. “I couldn’t resist any longer.”
“Why did you resist as long as you did?” I roll my hips but refuse to take him.
He looks away but returns my gaze saying, “I promised Brax.”
“Promised him what?” I stop my hips from their gliding. My hands stop their movement on his upper abs.
He pistons his hips, seeking more. “There are laws about cruel and unusual punishment, you know. This qualifies.”
“What did you promise him?”
He holds my eyes, regret filling his. “I promised him I’d never touch you.”
I start to lift off him, ready to go rip by brother a new asshole.
He takes my hips and pulls me back to meet him.
“Rule number two in our bed,” Eli starts. “We never talk about your brother. Ever. Erase that thought from my head.”
I pull back. “What’s rule number one?”
“Do you remember when you told me you didn’t like all the chit chat during sex? You wanted just the fucking? Can we go back to that?”
“After this, yes. But for now…” I slide slowly but shallowly, punish myself while torturing him. “What’s rule number one?”
“Enough.” He rolls, pinning me below him. “Rule number one is we never talk about anyone else in our bed. Ever.” He slams into me, building the pressure, before pulling almost all the way out.
“Our bed?”
“Fuck, yes.” He strokes hard and deep, seating himself to the root. “I’ve waited long enough. We’re an us now, and it’s our bed—whether we’re here or at my place.” He pulls back and slams home. “And I fully expect us to end our days together.”
“But—”
“But nothing. You want me, and I want you. You love me. And, darlin’, I’m crazy for you.”
I hear what he doesn’t say—that he loves me too. He doesn’t say he’s in this the same way I am.
“If I agree,” I start, but he does this thing with his hips as he drags out of me, and I’m distracted from my thoughts.
He hovers at my entrance. “If? If you agree? Are you still trying to negotiate with me?” He sinks agonizingly slowly, grinding into me.
“Trying? Oh, Eli, you should know me better than that.”
“I sure do, Bright.” And he stills his hips. “What are your terms?”
“What?”
“You were trying to negotiate with me. What are your terms?”
“I can’t remember. Too many orgasms. I reserve the right to renegotiate when I’m more clear headed.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s done. We can talk about the rest over tiramisu.”
The rest? The rest? How much more could there be? “What—”
The best orgasm of my life, pure exhaustion, and the absolute bliss at having Eli wrapped around me lulls me to sleep. Life is perfect.
