Her room was dim in the winter light. He settled her down on the mattress and walked to the window, drawing the curtains.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“The last time I was in here with you.”
“A good memory.”
He turned around, facing her fully. “The best. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to top it. But it looks like I’ve gotten lucky.”
She rose to her knees and slid off her top. “You’re certainly about to.”
Chapter Sixteen
He’d be tempted to stop time, except for his intense impatience. It was as if he was crawling in the desert, but the oasis was right there, so close to bliss, just a few more inches.
“Get over here,” Margot ordered. “Hurry.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Her face softened. “It’s going to be quick the first time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. This is basically the honor of my life. Besides, after the first time there’s going to be a second time.” She reached down and unsnapped the clasp in the front of her bra. Her breasts hung pale and perfect. His mouth watered at the sight of her light pink nipples.
“And a third.” He shed his shirt. “You got a condom.”
She reached out, flipping open his belt buckle with expert skill. “I do, but you have a choice. I’m on birth control and had a clear STD screening after my last partner. So I defer to you. Your choice.”
She popped his button and ground down the zipper. His cock threatened to explode from his black boxers.
He reached out and stroked the side of one of her breasts. The velvet-soft skin riveted him. He wanted to bend down and suck the tip of her nipple into his mouth, lick her until she bucked into his mouth, but he couldn’t move. If he budged so much as an inch, he would shatter. The pressure of the cotton on his shaft was too much. The idea of the hot, slick tunnel he’d once licked—
He swallowed, sucking a breath, fighting for focus, for self-control.
This might be quick, but so help him, it wasn’t going to bethatquick.
She arched like a kitten, sinking her claws into his V-line of muscle, grazing his skin with such soft, but precise, pressure that he clenched his ass, fighting to hang on.
He focused his gaze on her shoulders. If presented with a stack of Bibles, he’d swear up and down that he’d never seen anything as beautiful and delicate as the slope of her shoulders rising up to her neck.
“Are you sorry,” she whispered, “that this isn’t my first time too?”
“But it is,” he rasped. “Your first time with me.”
He bent, tangling his fingers in her long hair, memorizing the delicate texture between his fingertips, tugging it ever so slightly so that her head dipped back. She let him slide his tongue over hers, tasting her sweetness, coaxing her to deepen, not to hold back. He’d never kissed a woman before Margot, never experienced this raw essence, taking the opportunity to taste her until she trembled in his arms. He wanted to consume and be consumed in turn.
It went quickly after that. Relentless. He’d covered his mouth on hers and moved his body down. She was tall, lank and lean, but he was bigger. Broader. Her hair spread around her face like an open fan and her eyes were hazy, but she wasn’t far away. When their gazes locked, he knew she was close, as close as it was possible to get.
Except that was a lie. Incredibly, soon, they were going to be even closer.
“Hey.” She smiled.
“Hi.”
She reached out and held the Saint Anthony medal dangling from his chest between her thumb and forefinger.
“Patron saint of lost things, huh? Well, I’ve found you. You’re not lost anymore.”
