And druggy.
And delicious.
“You feel so good,” I tell her on a low groan as I ease out, swivel my hips, then pump back in.
With an arch of her back, she lets out a long, staggered sigh. Her fingers twist in the sheets. As I thrust, she grips harder.
“More,” she urges, and my God, my Emerson has a bottomless appetite for feeling.
For hard, hot sex.
For hurt.
For intensity.
I pick up the pace then raise a hand again and smack the outside of her thigh.
On a throaty cry, she shudders and grips the sheets so tight her knuckles whiten, pushing her face into the mattress like she can’t bear it. But that won’t do. I want to see her, feel her. Be connected to my woman.
My woman.
Yes, she is mine.
In all the ways.
I lower my chest to her back, still fucking, but I grab her chin. “Wanna look at you,” I tell her.
She turns her face to the side.
And I want to do more than look at her. I crush my lips to hers in a messy kiss.
A kiss that’s all lightning and fire as I take her and kiss her at the same damn time. Smacking her thighs, kneading her ass, kissing and fucking and feeling.
It’s furious and a little out of control, our mouths sliding, bodies slamming. I’m aching to come, but I fight it off.
Need to get her there.
One more rough, dirty kiss and it flips a switch in her. Seconds later, she gasps then shivers all over. Her sounds echo in the room like the anthemic chorus in a rock song. She hits the highest note and falls to pieces under me in a coda of incoherent murmurs and sighs.
My climax slams into me, hitting me all at once. It’s everywhere as I shudder through the blissful sensations, ones I want to experience again and again.
With her.
The next day, and the next.
And every single day after that.
17
Flash Mobs and Reclusive Chefs
Emerson
* * *
I once told Nolan I don’t do casual sex because I don’t know how to act afterward.
Right now, I do know how to act because there is sex and then there is intimacy, and that was both.
So I don’t have to act at all. I can just be . . . me.
Nothing felt casual about sleeping with Nolan. Thirty minutes later, I’m still basking in the afterglow as I slide my arms into a robe and tie it tightly.
“Robes are cool,” I say with a sexy little jut of my hip as I leave the bathroom, post-shower.
“Maybe on you,” Nolan says, hooking the towel around his waist.
I flop down on the bed, and he joins me.
Perhaps this is when the awkwardness sets in. I can feel it creep up on me, but I swat it away with words. “Are you going to spend the night?”
He strokes his chin as if deep in thought. “It’s a long way back to my place. I don’t really want to do the walk of shame,” he says, and I swat him.
Then I snuggle into my pillow. “I think I’m a pervert.”
He laughs, drops a kiss to my neck, chases it with a nibble. “Why’s that?”
“Hello? You should know. Every time we sleep together, I’m like more, please, bite me, hurt me, smack me.”
He laughs. “God, it’s so awful. A woman who knows her mind.”
I turn to him, running a hand over a messy lock of his hair, tucking it behind his ear. He’s all warm and lovely right now, all boyfriend-y.
I can’t see him as just a friend any longer, or just a business partner.
My heart somersaults.
And my big mouth can’t stay shut.
“What are we doing?” I mince no words, meeting his gaze straight on.
“Debating where to sleep,” he says with a hint of a grin.
“Yes, I’m clear on that,” I say.
He tugs at the robe’s belt. “Well, if you take this dumb robe off, I can curl up with you, and we can sleep. Or not sleep,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. But before I can ask again, he presses a soft kiss to the shell of my ear. “We’re doing . . .”
I wait for him to finish, my pulse slamming against my skin.
“I guess what we’re doing is figuring out just how terrible your taste in men is,” he says with a wry smile.
I roll my eyes then close them, feeling a little hollow. If he can’t say what he wants, there’s no way this can become what I crave.
The mattress shifts. It dips near my face. Nolan’s weight is on me, and I open my eyes to stare up at a hunk of a man straddling me.
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says, “but I want to do it again. And it’s not just the sex I want . . . It’s you.”
My whole body goes shivery. That’s enough. Truly enough for me now. “Stay the night, please,” I say again.