This wasn’t the fun, teasing, flirtatious exploration of their New York encounter. This was raw, basic, elemental need. She had thought she could resist him. She’d been wrong.
As her fingers clutched the short curls at his nape and the rain pummelled them both, the fire consumed her. Sense and reason deserted her. Why couldn’t they do this? He was right. They were consenting adults, they both enjoyed sex, especially with each other, and no one need ever know.
And how was she ever going to be able to rely on her new leaf with this burning hunger for him lurking in the background?
Wide palms gripped her hips and ground her against the thick ridge in his trousers. He lifted his head, water dripping off his brows, and shouted above the rain. ‘Let’s take this inside before we drown.’
Grasping her hand, he jogged to the pool house and dragged her inside. Wet clothes stuck to hot, damp skin as they battled together to get naked as fast as possible.
He tore her blouse, she ripped his shirt, but after a furious battle they touched flesh. She shivered as he hauled her close and they feasted on each other. Her back bumped against the closed door as he lifted her, positioning her to take him. Then he reared back and swore softly, letting her go.
‘Damn it!’ He grappled for his discarded trousers, retrieved the foil package, and sheathed himself.
‘Good thinking, Batman.’ She kissed him, framing his face with shaking hands. ‘Now hurry up.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He boosted her into his arms, thumping her back against the door, and took her in one solid thrust.
The shocking fullness turned to exquisite pain, mind-blowing pleasure. He withdrew, thrust back—the movements harsh, rough, and lacking his usual finesse, but so perfect, so right. Tears stung her eyes as she rode the glorious wave to completion.
He shuddered and with an incomprehensible grunt followed her over seconds later.
They stood together, his fingers digging into her thighs, her legs hooked around his waist, his erection still huge inside her. The patter of slowing rain hitting the door masked the jagged pants of their breathing. He dropped his forehead to hers, and whispered, ‘I think I just died and went to heaven.’ She tightened her arms around his neck as he buried his face in her wet hair, the sudden urge to stay for ever in the semi-consciousness of afterglow overwhelming. She didn’t want to worry about consequences. About right, or wrong. Sense or insanity. She just wanted to feel him inside her.
Easing out of her, he let her down gently. A single tear slipped over her lid—the moment of connection, of acceptance, gone. She shook off the sentimental thought and scrubbed away the tear with an impatient fist.
Don’t get mushy, you ninny. This is sex. Great sex. You don’t want more.
Holding his head, she lifted his face, and grinned.
‘Isn’t that sacrilegious?’
‘What?’ he asked, clearly a little dazed.
‘Mentioning heaven after what we just did?’
‘The hell you say.’
He grinned back at her. ‘Which is exactly why you love me.’
She forced a smile, the casual use of the L word a shock. And not a pleasant one. ‘That would be your ego talking,’ she replied dryly.
She stepped out of his arms—needing distance. But a muscled arm banded round her waist, halting her retreat. ‘Hey, we’re not through here.’
He nuzzled her neck and sensation raced down her spine, the thick ridge of renewed arousal nestling between her buttocks.
‘My ego wants to try out the bed.’
‘Oh, it does, does it?’ She turned, and draped her arms over his shoulders, locking her knees against the foolish fragility—then glanced down, pointedly. ‘I must say, your ego has remarkable powers of recuperation.’
He tucked a finger under her chin, and raised her face. ‘Only where you’re concerned.’
‘Good to know.’ She forced flippancy into her voice.
Just great sex. Remember.
Taking her hand, he crossed to the bed and in one smooth move swung her into his arms and then dumped her into the centre of the mattress. Laughter bubbled in her chest, forcing out the vulnerability. This could never be more for her, or for him, than a quick fling. So why stress about it? She didn’t do ties, or commitments, because she hated regrets. And she had far too many of them already. Especially where Carter Price was concerned.
Lying down next to her, he combed his fingers through her hair and traced his thumb across her cheekbone. ‘Damn, Gina, but you’re irresistible.’