He kept his gaze on hers, one thumb stroking her bottom lip. “Let me look at you.” His voice was a rough whisper.
Sucking in a breath, with the last shreds of her courage, she reached down to nudge the dress past her hips and to the floor. Ever the gentleman, he helped her step free of the puddle of fabric, then kept her hand in his as he drank her in.
“Goddamn, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
The harsh words did more to relieve the tension than a dozen assurances. Emboldened, Corinne stepped into him, running both hands up his chest and over his shoulders. “Show me,” she ordered.
Capturing her mouth, he bore them both down to the mattress. As heartbreaking strings transitioned to sensual jazz, he worshiped every neglected inch. She came alive again beneath his hands, his mouth, body coiling with unbearable pleasure until she shot over the first brutal peak with his name on her lips.
She was still shuddering as he stretched out over her, finally, deliciously naked. God, the weight of him felt so good, so right, and when he shifted, nudging her core, Corinne tipped her mouth to his and wrapped around him, welcoming.
He slid home and stilled, waiting as her body adjusted to his fullness. “Okay?”
“So okay,” she moaned.
He retreated a scant inch and pushed back in. Corinne drew her knees back, hooking her feet around his waist. With each slow stroke, he thrust in deeper, filling spaces of aching emptiness that had been her constant companion for years. Throat tight, she closed her eyes.
“Stay with me, Corinne.”
She opened her eyes, focusing on his face. He lowered his chest to hers, lacing their fingers, and began to move again, driving her relentlessly up. She chased the high, matching his rhythm, wanting the exquisite friction to last forever, yet yearning for release. Her skin slicked with sweat and her vision blurred until all she could see was his eyes, darkly green, staring into hers.
“Stay with me,” he growled.
“I’m with you.” She drew his mouth to hers and murmured against his lips, “I’m with you, Tucker.”
And at last that infinite control snapped. He picked up the pace, plundering her mouth as he plunged into her. His eyes went blind as he lost himself in her, and the sight of his pleasure catapulted her over the edge. She bowed up, wrapping around him and seating him deep as he spasmed, finding his own release.
They clung together trembling from aftershocks. His bigger body draped over hers, his cock still twitching inside her. Corinne decided she’d never been quite so completely, wonderfully used. If she could pause this moment for a year or three, she’d be good with that.
“I’m crushing you.”
Before she could protest, he’d rolled off, disappearing to the bathroom to take care of the condom. A chill spread through her that had nothing to do with the temperature. Would that be it, then? Would he expect her to go ahead and get dressed so he could drop her home?
The mattress dipped as he came back, hauling her against him.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, don’t.”
“What?”
“You looked like you were about to panic.” He brushed a kiss over her brow. “Regrets already?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Because it was there, because she could, she pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I’m not good at this part.”
“Which part?”
“The after.” Lance hadn’t been one for cuddling or talking. Sex hadn’t been about them, it had been about him. Tucker wasn’t Lance. Why did she keep having to remind herself of that? “It’s…been a long time for me.”
“Since the divorce?”
She nodded.
His fingers traced patterns on her back. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the sensation. She hadn’t realized exactly how badly she’d needed to be touched. Yet again, Tucker had given her exactly what she needed. He’d made her feel desired and beautiful. And his pleasure had been in giving her hers.
“It’s been a while for me, too. Since a certain sad-eyed brunette walked back into town.”
Her eyes popped open. “Seriously?”
Tucker searched her face, his lips curving. “Not so sad now.”