He laughed but it sounded strained as he lifted the sheet and tugged it off. She lay still, the heavy beat of her heart plunging into her sex. Her skin tingled and tightened as his gaze roamed in return.
Just when she thought she couldn’t stand the intense scrutiny a moment longer, his eyes finally lifted to her face. ‘Not as gorgeous as you.’
Climbing onto the bed, he settled beside her, his flesh hot where it touched her thigh as he swept his hand over her in a tender caress, following the curve of her body to her breasts. He stroked the underside, then rolled the engorged tip between his thumb and forefinger. He bent to flick his tongue across the swollen peak and she jolted in his arms.
‘Sweet,’ he muttered, then suckled hard.
The choked sob of pleasure was almost animalistic as the prickle of need arrowed down. He took one breast then the other into his mouth, gorging himself on her and making the heat and pleasure race across her skin and tug hard in her sex.
‘You’re so responsive, you’re killing me,’ he rasped in her ear as he grasped her leg, lifted it over his hip and brought her sex into sudden contact with the large head of his erection. ‘I’m not sure I can wait much longer.’
She gripped his shoulders, clinging on to sanity, and arched into him. ‘Don’t wait.’
He muttered something in Spanish, then grasped both her thighs and rolled, holding her open, until he was poised above her. Then he sank into her in one long, slow, all-consuming thrust.
She tensed at the shock of penetration, her body shuddering as she struggled to adjust to the invasion.
‘Shh,’ he soothed, his voice tense with the effort to hold still. ‘Just breathe—it’ll take a moment. You’re so tight.’
Then his thumb traced across her hip an
d found the place where their bodies joined. She bucked beneath him, cried out as he touched the sensitive nub. Then he started to rock inside her, pulling out, thrusting back, gradually at first, and so gently. Then faster. And harder.
The full-stretched feeling gathered and intensified, the incendiary stroke of his thumb radiating outwards and shooting like lightning through her body. She moved with him, instinctively angling her hips to take him deeper, racing towards that glorious oblivion that beckoned just out of reach.
The brutal orgasm hit in a bright, beautiful, never-ending wave, crashing over her and then rising up to crest again. She heard her thin cry of desperate pleasure matching his harsh grunt of release as the wave crashed through that final barrier, hurtling them over together.
Iona couldn’t seem to keep her eyelids from drooping to half-mast as he tucked her under his arm and gathered her close. She settled her head on his shoulder, breathing in the spicy scent of his skin and the clean musk of fresh sweat—the slight soreness between her thighs nothing compared to the slumberous afterglow of spectacular sex and the sweet, serene feeling of achievement.
He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and smiled. ‘Good?’
She smiled back. ‘Very.’ And ignored the rush of tenderness as her heartbeat evened out and her eyelids grew heavy.
‘Get some sleep, querida.’ His lips brushed against the top of her hair. ‘We’re not finished yet.’
‘We’re not?’ she asked, around a huge yawn, trying to keep a lid on the rush of excitement, and the swell of longing.
‘Of course not. We’ve got two condoms left.’
She huffed out a laugh, and snuggled against him as she drifted into sleep—refusing to regret the fact that once they’d used those two condoms and the night was over, he would be gone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IONA BLINKED AT the business card perched on her nightstand. Sitting up in the empty bed, she picked up the card and flicked it over, to find a note scribbled in black ink.
Hey Sleepyhead,
I had to go let C.D. out before she starts figuring my closet is on fire!
Call me.
Zane
PS. You look real cute when you’re sleeping—even when you snore.
‘I do not snore,’ she whispered, sputtering out a half laugh. She rubbed her thumb across the embossed writing on the front of the card and felt the lump lodged in her throat sink to the pit of her stomach and land like a lead weight. She stared at Zane’s name and his contact details framed next to the geometric drawing of an office building—which was probably his firm’s headquarters in Carmel—and then concentrated on the ‘call me’ scribbled in his looping scrawl on the back.
She set the card on the nightstand. Their fling had been amazing, but now it was over and mooning over him, or thinking they could take this any further, would be silly.