His shining midnight gaze adored her—and indulged her. “It’s all right. There are two of us, after all. Only one of us had to remember. And I haven’t minded at all seeing you so carried away that you didn’t even think about using protection.”
“I should have thought of it.”
He shook his head, slowly, lazily, that tempting smile of his a seduction in itself. “You are so beautiful when you’re carried away.” His smile, his tender words, the hot-candy sound of his voice. She was seduced by every aspect of him.
Seduced and loving it.
Still, she tried to hold out against him. “I’m not beautiful, Rule. We both know that.”
“You are beautiful. And please give me your hand and stop arguing with me.”
Really, the guy was irresistible. She held out her hand.
He put the little pouch in the center of her palm. “Do the honors?”
She laughed, a soft, husky laugh, a laugh that spoke so clearly of her desire. “Now you’re talkin’.”
He lay back on the pillows and watched her, his eyes so hot now, molten, as she removed the wrapper and set it aside.
She bent over him, kissed him, in the center of his chest, on that silky trail of hair, not far from his heart. His skin was hot. He smelled so good. She rained a flood of kisses on him, to each side of his big chest, over his rib cage, on his ridged, amazing belly, all the way to her goal.
When she got there, she kissed him once more, a light, feathery breath of a kiss. He moaned. The sound pleased her. She stuck out her tongue and she licked him, concentrating first on the flare, then centering on the sensitive tip. And then, at last, taking him inside—then slowly, by agonizing degrees, lifting once more to release him.
A strangled sound escaped him. And he touched her hair, threading his fingers through it, lifting himself toward her, begging wordlessly, on another groan, for more.
She gave him what he asked for. She took him in again slowly, all the way, relaxing her throat to accommodate him, and then, just as slowly, let him out. She used her tongue on him, licking, stroking, swirling, teasing.
His moans and his rough, ragged breathing told her that he couldn’t take much more. Good. She wanted to lead him all the way to the brink. She wanted to make him go over, into a perfect satisfaction, as he’d done to her.
But then he caught her face between his hands and he guided her up his body again, until she was looking right into those beautiful eyes.
“Put it on,” he commanded in a rough, hungry growl. “Put it on now.”
And she realized she was fine with that. More than fine. She rolled on the condom carefully. Once it was on, she rose onto her knees, intending to take the top position.
But then he reached for her, and he lifted up from the pillows and she happily surrendered as he guided her so gently down onto her back again. He eased her thighs wide and settled between them, his arms against the mattress to either side of her head, his fingers in her hair.
“Sydney …” His mouth swooped down to claim another kiss. Deep and hot and perfect, that kiss.
And she felt him, nudging against her, so slick and hard and wonderfully insistent. He pressed in slowly, filling her. She opened for him eagerly, her mouth fused to his as he came into her.
Oh, it was glorious, thrilling, nothing like it.
Not ever.
Not ever in her life before.
He began to move, rocking into her, his hips meeting hers, retreating—and returning. Always, returning.
She lifted herself up to him, wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his shoulders, clasping his strong neck, her fingers clutching his hair.
She was lost, flying, burning, free. There was nothing, just this. This beauty. This magic. The two of them: her body, his body—together. One.
Retreating. Returning. Over and over. Wet and hot and exactly as she’d never realized she’d always wished it might be.
Nothing like it.
Not ever.