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"Weston!" I grab a pillow and hold it over his face to smother him.
His big body shakes with laughter as he pulls it away and tosses it off the side of the bed.
"You're impossible," I mutter, shaking my head at him.
He rolls to his knees, coming up over me.
"You're going to let me come on them after I get you pregnant," he growls, though he's grinning at me like I hold the key to the universe or something. He's so damn beautiful when he's happy.
"You're obsessed with my boobs."
He cocks a brow at me. "Baby, I'm obsessed with every little thing about you, from the mole behind your knee to the little wrinkle in your brows when you're scowling at me."
"Yeah?" I slide my leg up over his hip, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I'm kinda obsessed with you too."
"I know. You used to read about me in trashy magazines." He smirks and then leans down to kiss the scowl off me. He grinds his erection against my clit at the same time. How he's hard again, I don't know. I don't think he's evernothard. "Admit it, angel. You kept tabs on me."
"I admit nothing," I breathe against his lips.
He chuckles against mine and then groans. "Jesus Christ. Every time you breathe, I get hard."
"So do something about it."
"You need a break."
"I need you."
"Fuck." He shifts around, lining up at my entrance.
We both groan as he thrusts inside. It feels so good. I think I'm addicted to sex now. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be this good, but when he's inside me, I feel like I'm whole. Every part of my body tingles.
"Fucking hell. How do you keep getting tighter?" he growls, yanking my leg up higher. He buries his face in my throat, kissing all over as he circles his hips and grinds against me. And then he groans again and pumps his hips.
"More," I moan, as greedy for him as he is for me.
"Everything," he whispers back, seeking my lips again. He stays close as he makes love to me, running his hands all over me and whispering in my ear. He's sweet and filthy in turns, bossy and worshipful. It's so damn sexy to me that even here, when he's practically writhing in pleasure, he's thinking about me, making sure I'm right here with him, and that I know exactly how he feels about me.
I do. God, I do. On the plane today, I thought my heart was going to burst with excitement because I couldn't wait to get back to him, to touch him and kiss him and just be with him again. He makes me crazy in the most beautiful, amazing ways.
Every time I get close to the edge, he changes his pace, keeping me right there, until I'm babbling and pleading for him to let me come. His back is a mess of scratch marks, but I can't seem to stop myself as he fucks me harder, kisses me deeper.
"Come now, Laney," he growls, hitting that spot inside me that makes my whole body sing with pleasure, with joy.
I do, screaming his name until it breaks on my lips. The whole world disappears as pleasure explodes outward, consuming me in ecstasy. Blood rushes in my ears, muting the way he roars my name as he follows me over.
I hear him though.
I feel him, so deep inside that Iknowthat's where he's supposed to be. That he was meant to fit right there. We were made to be like this.
"I was wrong," I whisper when it's over and I'm back in his arms, my head resting on his chest as he draws his name all over me like the crazy man he is.
"Yeah? About what?"
"Jesus totally would have punched Jackson Hurst in the face," I mumble.
Weston freezes and then I feel his body shakes as he laughs.
I fall asleep with a smile on my face.
