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“If you did, we could ditch it, and I could ditch mine—the whole taking-it-slow, give-it-a-few-weeks thing I’ve always run on—and jump straight to the sex.”
His Sunday off shot like a bullet to the top of the best-of list.
“You’re not going to buy me dinner first?”
“I’ll owe you,” she said, and took his mouth again.
He circled her out of the foyer, into the living room because, damn it, she’d lit this fire in him, and the bedroom was too far away.
As he circled, he tugged off her shirt, tossed it aside.
“Don’t judge me on the underwear.” Breathless, she dragged at his shirt. “I wasn’t planning on sex when I put it on this morning.”
“Let’s just get it out of sight then.” One-handed, he flipped open the back hook of her bra, made her tremble.
“You are good at this.”
“Quiet.” He tumbled her onto the sofa. “I like the quiet.”
She couldn’t quite manage silence, not with what he did to her body with his hands, his mouth. To be touched again, to feel a man’sweight on top of her, to have his mouth just take hers over. She felt those shocks of pleasure in every cell of her body.
And the feel of him under her hands, warm flesh, hard muscle, rocked her already shuddering system. His mouth was everything she’d imagined when she’d let herself imagine. Hot and masterful. Her heart thudded under that mouth as it roamed and possessed.
With a bare brush of his fingers, he shot her to peak.
It ripped through her, tearing her breath, shattering her mind, electrifying her body. Giving her no time to recover, he drove her up again, smothered her cries with his mouth while her body arched under his.
Then he was inside her, deep, holding, holding until her hips began to pump, until the world went mad.
He watched her, those tiger eyes on hers, as she wrapped her legs around him, urged him to thrust, faster and deeper.
As he watched, he saw the pleasure on her face, the shock of it in her eyes. She had more, and it cost him to give more rather than take. But he gave, and gave, while her body rose and fell with him. He gave until she cried out again, until her hand reached back to grip the arm of the couch as if to keep herself from flying.
He gave until she went limp and lax and liquid under him. Then he took his fill.
She could have drifted on the echoes of pleasure for hours, maybe days. Weeks didn’t seem out of the question. She let herself focus on the drift, and the pleasure, how it felt to have his heart racing against hers. She could add in satisfaction, as his body lay as lax and limp as hers now.
Out of practice, maybe, but she’d gotten the job done.
Since they were right there, she ran her hands over the muscles of his back.
“These don’t really show under your invisible suit.”
He didn’t stir. “I have an invisible suit?”
“You wear it every day. Well, not right now, but otherwise.”
“What does it look like?”
“Charcoal gray, single-breasted, in that fine Italian wool. Crisp white cotton shirt, steel-blue silk tie, single Windsor, black cap-toe oxfords. Italian, of course.”
“That’s very specific.”
“If I had a million dollars, I’d bet you you’ve got something damn close to it in your closet. It looks good on you.”
“Why is it invisible?”
“You don’t need anybody to see it to know you’re in charge. It just is. But now, we’re naked, and it’s really nice.”
