by Lavinia Kent
He started to reach up, to touch, but she pressed his arm back down. “You need to relax,” she said, eyes saying exactly the opposite.
Her hands moved between her breasts, unclasping her bra. She paused.
He froze. His eyes unmoving.
She parted her hands slightly, the delicate inner swells revealed.
A little more.
She paused, rubbing the lace hard over the tips, her breath in pants.
His hips rose of their own accord. His cock seeking its home.
She lowered herself slightly, pressed against him. Then lifted herself high at the same moment she let the bra slide off her shoulders, revealing her breasts completely.
The tip of his cock began to weep. He needed to be in her.
She reached for the lotion, let a sizable amount flow into her palms, then leaned forward, her breasts hanging heavy, barely out of his reach.
The lotion eased over his skin as her hands moved in ever-tightening circles. When she reached his nipples, her fingers stopped to give them a brief flick before her hands were back at her own breasts, spreading the remaining lotion.
His mind went blank.
Her fingers moved, spread, pinched, eased—and all he could do was stare.
She added more lotion.
His fingers curled and uncurled.
She leaned forward again, letting her ripe nipples trail over his chest, then leaned even farther, using her body to spread the lotion. She lowered her hips until she was pressed hard against his length.
He could feel the damp between her legs, smell the scent of her.
And he could take no more.
Levering himself up, he took her with him, striding to the bedroom.
It was time.
* * *
—
Jordan found herself being lifted, then carried, before her mind even had time to think. Clay marched down the hall to the bedroom and tossed her across the high bed, her thighs open on either side of him.
He paused there for a moment, towering over her, taking her in as if he’d never see her again.
He opened his mouth. Then closed it.
His arms lifted her thighs, spreading them wide as his hips surged forward.
Then he was in her.
She wasn’t sure quite what had happened to her panties, but they were gone and he was in her, filling her completely.
Her back arched, her body eager for more, her clit needing to be rubbed and pressed and—Oh yes, that was it, that was exactly it.
He pressed her legs forward slightly, bending her knees, changing the angle. Incredibly it got even better.
He slid deep, pulled back again, slid deeper.
She was so wet that it was all smooth and easy. And oh so good.
Deep.
Out.
Deeper.
A little twist.
Her head went from side to side. She wanted to keep looking at him, to keep staring at him, but it was too much.
It was coming. Now. Fast. Hard.
So hard.
Her whole body lifted, tightened about him again. And again. And again.
He paused briefly, buried as deeply as possible, waiting her out.
Then he began again, back and forth, rubbing where she needed to be rubbed, pressing where she needed to be pressed.
She was sensitive, so very sensitive.
Almost instantly she felt the coil tighten again.
She tried to move, tried to position herself, but he held her tight, held her right where he wanted her, unrelenting.
“Clay,” she moaned, her voice hoarse and needy.
He pressed in deep, held it, and then the speed picked up.
She could feel his need, his want, with each surge.
The tendons in his neck tightened.
He pushed harder, moved faster.
It was too much. She couldn’t keep up, so she let it go, let it all go, let wave after wave after wave of pleasure wash over her until she fell back on the bed, soft and complete.
Clay landed beside her, hot and heavy.
For a moment they did nothing but breathe.
Then she found herself lifted again. This time, moved on the bed until her head was on the pillows and the coverlet was being pulled up beside her. Clay eased in beside her.
“Are we good?” she asked softly, not wanting to push, but not willing to let the moment pass.
“We’re good” came his low reply. “Even my pride is smiling at this moment.”
She cuddled into him, rejoicing in his warmth.
He turned on his side toward her. “What does good mean to you?”
She blinked. “I’m not sure what you mean?”
“Where do we go from here? What happens next in your book? I want to be sure I get it right.”
She lifted up on one elbow, looking down at him. “I’m not exactly sure, except that I’m not hiding. I want to go out with you, to be seen with you, to be with you. And I want to be in your bed or have you in mine as often as possible.”
“I think that can be managed. Are you willing to stay in the city more? To stay with me? I can take long weekends and head your way. I can even work remotely one day a week.”
“That sounds good.” She should be scared that this was moving fast, but somehow she wasn’t. It felt good—and right, very right.
He smiled, big and broad. “Good. It’s normally such a bland word, but at this moment it makes me happier than any I can imagine.”
She grinned back. “I just might feel the same way.”
“Is there anything more we need to say?”
She was sure that there was, but none of it seemed to matter in this moment. There were things to be defined, words that might or might not be said in the future, but all that mattered now was the possibility. There was something between them, something strong, something powerful. She might not be ready to put a word to what that was—would have been foolish to do so—but she knew it was there and that given time it could grow. “I don’t think so. I think I’m ready to just lie back and enjoy, to see where we go, to see just how much fun we can have.”
Clay rolled back toward her, grasping her hands and pulling them over her head. “You did say Dolly would sleep for a few hours.”
“That seems to be her pattern,” she gasped, suddenly breathless.
He moved, bringing his weight over her without releasing her hands. “Then we’d better make use of the time to explore this fun that you speak of.”
She pushed her hips up, feeling him grow against her. Fun sounded just about perfect.
To the wonderful Junessa Viloria, whose insightful editing enabled me to step out of the past and find my contemporary voice.
BY LAVINIA KENT
Forbidden Cove series
Unsuitable
Bound and Determined series
Mastering the Marquess
Revealing Ruby (novella)
Bound by Bliss
Sarah’s Surrender (novella)
Ravishing Ruby
Angel in Scarlet
A Very Ruby Christmas
Tangled in Sin
About the Author
Lavinia Kent is a former two-term president of the Washington Romance Writers and a four-time Romance Writers of America Golden Heart nominee. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her family and an ever-changing menagerie of pets.
Want more from Lavinia Kent?
laviniakent.com
Facebook.com/LaviniaKent
@laviniakent
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