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I’ve always loved Ruby. I should have known it wouldn’t be that hard to fall in love with her. If I could rewind the past few days and undo this tumble into something more . . . maybe I would.

But I can’t. And right now, I just want more of her. As much as I can get.

I tip my forehead in the direction of her place. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You’re a mind reader.” She grins. “That may be one of my favorite things about you.”

I almost tell her I have too many favorite parts of her to list, but that kind of cheesy shit is a good way to make it even harder to say goodbye than it’s going to be already.

At her place we make quick work of our clothes.

Cover-ups and shirts pool on the floor, and she grabs her phone, clicks on a playlist, then scoots back on the bed, her eyes wide, eager.

Soft, sexy music floats through her room.

Like I need mood music, but hey, I won’t complain about Sam Smith.

I climb over her, sliding my hand along her soft skin, dipping my face to her neck. A sigh falls from my lips as I kiss her, tasting the ocean and the sand and her.

My head spins with longing, and my body throbs with desire.

Her hands roam down my chest, over my abs, and straight to my dick.

When she grips me, the noise I make is carnal.

And needy too.

So is hers. A plea. “Jesse.”

It’s just my name. But the way she says it, all soft and desperate, like this day did something to her too, makes my heart thump harder.

Fuck, I need this woman.

Need so much more than this narrow window, this list.

But I try to shake those thoughts from my head and zero in on the moment.

Nighttime. Music. The way she moves beneath me.

That is all there is. The physical. The now.

She lifts her hips and I give Ruby what she wants, sliding a hand between her legs, losing my mind when I feel how wet she is.

How ready she is.

And she feels fucking incredible, all slick and soft.

I bury my face in her neck, kissing and sucking as I stroke and glide, and soon she is bucking and writhing in my hand.

Then, coming hard and fast, in mere minutes.

I want to thump my chest, pat myself on the back. But more than that, I want to give her another orgasm.

“Need you now,” I groan.

“Have me,” she says in an echo, grabbing a condom from the nightstand and thrusting it at me.

I cover myself as she parts her legs.


Tags: Lauren Blakely, Lili Valente Good Love Romance