Page 91 of Romancing Summer

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The realization of it makes my cock throb. It’s like there’s a part of me that wants to pull out right now, tear off this damn condom and claim her the way I desire. I want to spill inside her and take all the risks that come with it, risks that I can’t help feeling might lead to a life shared together, despite those damn rules she laid out. I want that so badly.

But I know I can’t have it. I’ve given her every opportunity to say she wants more of us. Yet she hasn’t. So all I can do is delight in the view I get from down here. Watching her ride me and use me like I’m the best damn sex toy that money can buy… until she cries out my name, bucking above me as my hands move from her breasts to her ass to pull her down on me even harder, so that I can indulge in all the tiny aftershocks of her climax.

Still hard and not wanting to let this end yet, I pull out and move her until she’s on her knees. I reach around and one of my hands fills with a breast and the other toys with that nub that always makes her pant, and I slide into her moisture from behind.

She moans as my pace quickens, needing to claim her in the only way I’m allowed—with my body rather than with my words. Everything in me wants to say it.You’re mine, dammit. And I’m not letting you go.But I can’t.

So I show her with my body, thrusting into her as my fingers play and squeeze her into another climax.

I could let myself go right now, so easily, so selfishly. But I refuse. I want to watch her when she comes again, because this will probably be the last chance I get to see the way her eyes slam shut. I want to see her bite her bottom lip just before she screams out my name, like she always does.

So when I feel her channel settle after her second explosion of the morning, I move her onto her back and take her again.

This time, I savor it. This time, I’m slow; each move of my cock and my lips and my fingers and hands is deliberate and thoughtful, as though my skin is memorizing the feel of her against me.

And my eyes—they almost ache from how hard they’re working now, noticing and committing to memory things about her for the first time.

That cleft in her chin and the tiny freckle just to the side of it.

The way the rose of her lips seems darker after a kiss.

The arch of her eyebrows and how they frame eyes that boast tiny iridescent specks inside pools of burnt sienna when the lamplight strikes them.

The way her lashes fall shut when I’m deep in her.

I take it all in.

And then, when I can’t hold back any longer, I press against her in that way I know always pulls a climax from her. And I coax another one, slowly this time, patiently, letting go of myself exactly when I know she’s just hit her peak.

And when I relax my body onto her, like a blanket, I enjoy the way her channel almost shudders around me as though it doesn’t want this to end.

I wishsheshared that thought.

She smiles as I move to her side.

“You know, you’re a bad influence on me today. How am I going to get all trained for that half marathon if you’re keeping me in bed when I should be running?”

“I couldn’t resist. It’s my last morning here. And as much as I love running with you, I enjoy—”

“No.” Her face falls as she cuts me off abruptly. “We still have next weekend.”

I shake my head. “Through the end of August. That’s what it says on my lease.”

The concern she had a moment ago disappears and she grins. “Pfft.” She slices her hand playfully through the air and then, sliding her body on top of mine, says, “I think we’re beyond leases, don’t you? I always figured you’d stick around until after Labor Day. I mean, that’s the unofficial end of summer.” She kisses my chest. “It’s a three-day weekend too. Imagine all we can accomplish,” she says, her tone laced with sin.

But it only makes me frown.

“My battalion is coming up on rotation tomorrow. I need to stay near base, remember?” I open my mouth again, almost suggesting she come into Savannah next weekend. With the holiday, I’m sure she couldn’t stay for long. But maybe she could take some time for lunch or dinner.

But then I remember Mason’s text this morning.

I might not even be around for Labor Day weekend.

And she’d be standing outside my building alone, realizing that I’m not there to let her in. Realizing I’ve gone.

Realizing that now she has her brotherandme to worry about.

Dammit. There’s nothing fair about that for her.


Tags: Kate Aster Romance