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“When I was a kid,” she confessed. “My brother, Ethan, was the typical asshole older brother.”
“Hmmm..” Monty murmured, his expression curious. “I remember a few stories, but you must have left out the parts where you cried.”
“Well, crying is weakness, and weakness is my enemy,” she quipped in her best superhero voice.
He shifted, and she found herself pressed against him, his hands cupping her neck.
“Sometimes weakness can be powerful,” he said.
Her pulse went haywire. The fire in his eyes was different from what she was used to, and it lit something deep in her belly. “How?” she asked, her lips tickling against his. She raised her hands to his forearms, letting his warmth seep into her.
“You’ve got me thinking things I shouldn’t,” he replied in a gruff whisper. “Things I swore I wouldn’t think about you again.”
“Like what?” she asked.
And fuck if he didn’t show her.
CHAPTER19
Avoice in Montgomery’s head told him all of this was wrong. Wrong, wrong, and more wrong. Having sex with Hartley was a huge mistake, crossing a line he’d drawn in the sand. You name the metaphor, and he was breaking it.
Despite that, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips to hers, licking at their corners, and then mating their tongues when her lips parted.
“Monty, should we be doing this?” she asked when he slid his mouth across her cheek to her ear.
“No.” He groaned as her arms slid around him. They laced at the small of his back, her thumbs pressing and stroking the way they used to—the way that unlocked things better left sealed in his memory.
“We should stop,” she whispered, gasping when he angled his body to pull her fully against him, chest to toe.
“We should definitely stop,” he agreed, sliding his hand under her sweatshirt and finding the smooth fabric of her bra. He hooked his fingers in the top, pulling it down and letting her breast fill his hand.
God, everything about her was the only match that lit his particular fuse. Was that obsession? And why was this hunger more pronounced now, when they were all but officially divorced? Eli had handed him a game plan, and despite following it faithfully all day, he was ready to set it on fire at the glimpse of a single tear.
He rolled to his side, telling himself he was rolling away from her, only to pull her along. His hand on her back found her waistband and slid inside, over the filmy stretch of underwear that covered her ass.
If I stay on top of the fabric, I’ll be fine, he promised himself like a teenager, groaning as she shimmied her hips against his crotch and his growing erection. Her fingers slid from his back to his hips, her thumbs pressing just inside his hip bone as her breath panted in his ear.
“This doesn’t mean anything, right?” she asked, her restless hands creeping into the waist of his pants. “Just…two former lovers saying goodbye one last time.”
“Former lovers,” he whispered in agreement. In a blink, he’d rolled to his back, his hands hooking into her sweatpants and panties and jerking them down.
She accommodated him by lifting her hips and moving to unbutton and unzip his fly. He lifted his hips, then bit back a gasp as their hot, bare skin touched.
“God, Monty, you’ve always done this to me,” she moaned, finding his mouth in a hectic, wet kiss.
He pulled her knees alongside his thighs, his cock gliding against her wet core. Her hips undulated, stroking herself against him while she murmured unintelligible words into his mouth.
He smoothed his hands up her firm thighs to her hips, grinding her against him. She broke off their kiss to sit up, her hands clenching his chest through his shirt.
He pushed her sweatshirt up and pulled the rest of her bra down, her perfect breasts golden in the dim light. He squeezed them together, toying with her nipples as she threw her head back.
At some point she’d loosened her hair, and now it fell in silken curls, framing her pale face. She ran her hands up and down his forearms, arching her back to thrust her breasts into his hands.
“Fuck, Monty,” she groaned, tipping her head forward to stare at him with eyes blackened in passion. Her thighs tensed as she lifted herself, one hand on his cock to guide him into her wet pussy. “Yes,” she sighed, her eyes drifting shut.
Yes, he thought, the word echoing through his mind. He must have closed his eyes. He must be dreaming, because he saw her above him, rocking him deeper into her, while all around them were colors and sparks and everything that had impossibly ignited inside him and spilled out into the room.
He imagined the waves of their lovemaking rolling out, lapping at the walls and flowing back to swirl around them, seeping into his skin and energizing every cell. It was fanciful, yet felt so real. It grew in intensity until he heard himself gasp, drawing her wide-eyed gaze. She felt it, too; he knew it.
