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That left sexing him till he lost consciousness.
It would be an enormous hardship, but as she sat astride his hips, looked down on that lightly furred, nicely sculptured chest—damn, he worked out—she knew she’d find a way to get through it. The bastard had gotten steadily more handsome over the years and even less able to hide his feelings from her.
Another reason to distrust him.
He flexed his hands on her ass, eyes narrowing, while other parts of him thickened between her thighs. “You’re too thin, sweetheart. All bone and not enough padding. I want to feed you up.”
She pushed her hair out of her eyes and watched him eat up the movement of her breasts. “You get to fuck me, not make me breakfast.”
“I’d make you waffles with bacon and maple syrup.”
He was supposed to take offense, not run with the idea.
“I’d fry your eggs over easy how you like them, and butter your toast to the corners.”
She groaned. He wasn’t supposed to remember how she liked her eggs and her thing about dry toast. He was supposed to shove up inside her so she could ride him into a coma. Instead he was caressing her with firm hands and making her both wet and fucking hungry again.
“Maybe an omelet with mushrooms and roasted tomatoes.”
He wasn’t going to shut up, so she sealed her mouth over his, but when her stomach gurgled he laughed, their teeth clashed and they broke apart. “I would cook for you every morning if you’d let me,” he said.
Oh no, he couldn’t say ridiculous things like that. She bit his lip until he yanked on her hair to get her to stop. She’d already made him bleed once tonight, but violence was easier to cope with than whatever this other feeling he made flutter in her chest was. Something winged like hope and fragile like forever and not worth the electronics it was forged with.
“I forgot you were a Chatty Cathy.” Not true, but better to let him think her memories of them were faded ink on forged passports put through the wash so they looked more authentically used. Cleve had the gift of gab and her father had seen it straight off. He could talk himself into, out of and all around anything he wanted. He’d been a natural at eighteen and near legendary after two years of the professor’s private tutorials. But he’d never used that silken grifter’s tongue on her until tonight.
Made her want to bite it off.
Except she had other uses for it.
He caressed her cheek. “Give me that mouth and I’ll happily clam up.”
She tipped her chin and offered her lips. He’d always had the best ideas. Picnics on rooftops, premium joints smoked under the stars, parking in pretty places in stolen cars, break and enter for the sake of a naked moonlit swim or the use of a home cinema. He’d talked them into concerts and restaurants and out of trouble more times than she could count. Proof he was a liar’s liar, he’d been able to lie to her father and get away with it.
No surprise he’d sweet talked the hotel staff to get a room pass; that he was making her remember him too fondly, alarmingly so.
She gave him her mouth and her hands and her breath and her body. She’d ride him hard and put him away wet and then she’d be free of him. She’d take Celestia and move on, and he’d be nothing but muscle memory. It was a great plan, if only she could stay focused while he burned her up with his eyes.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like you’re the brightest thing in the world? Like I’m afraid you’ve got a hatchet hidden under the mattress and you’ll take my head off if I look away?”
“Do I have to pick one?”
He laughed. “Pick me, Aria. What we could be together.” He brought her hand to his lips. “We could steal the sun and ransom its warmth.”
“Shame you can’t fuck as well as you can—” He tilted her hips and pushed up inside her in one slick move. “Oh, fuck.”
“Thought you might like that.” She grunted assent and he did it again, the hip tilt, the savage thrust that touched her so deep it sent sparks showering up her spine and over her head. Impossible to keep her balance when she was melting, but then his hands were there holding her up.
“Fast or slow, baby? You choose. Fast will make you scream. Slow will turn you inside out.”
Fast would rewire her brain. Slow would pierce her heart. He didn’t get to make the rules. “Cocky bastard.”
That earned her a sharply delicious thrust, made her eyes slam shut. “Failure to choose results in the default selection.”
“Which is?”
He dragged her down to his chest. “Everything you didn’t know you needed.”
