His gaze never left me as I peeled his clothes from him. With an arched brow, he watched while I undressed without ceremony and crawled into his lap.
My hand smoothed up his flank and over his chest, pausing at his scarred shoulder. “Let me,” I whispered.
Will sucked in a breath as my lips feathered over his skin. I kissed every spot from his shoulder to his ear and back again, and I gobbled up each sigh and hum that slipped from his lips. Rising up on my knees, I pushed him back toward the pillows. He was quiet and obedient, and his eyes bathed me in the most glorious heat. I gathered him in my arms as best I could, my head on his chest and my hands flat on his back, and though his hips were bucking up in slow jabs and his cock was sliding against my center, hard and insistent, it was possible he required this moment exactly as much as I did. “Let me,” I said. “Let me take care of you. Let me love you. Let me be yours.”
“Shannon…you’ve always been mine.”
“Are you sure I’m not too much for you?”
“How could you ever be too much for me when I can’t get enough of you?” he said.
I reached between us, our foreheads bowed together to watch as he disappeared inside me. Our moans echoed around us when he was fully seated, and I held myself there, my eyes screwed shut and my hands on his neck with the beat of his pulse steady against my palms, his mouth a torment on my breasts and his beard tickling my belly, and my body moved of its own volition, knowing what we needed without conscious thought because we knew. We knew.
There was nowhere for these sensations to go but around and around, spinning and spreading out in waves that stole my words. The only sounds were of our shared murmurs and breaths, the creaking bed, the ocean.
He said my name in a long, content groan as he came, his mouth on my breast and those syllables marking me with a possession that felt boundless, eternal, permanent.
Our relationship was formed on the basis of really good sex, the types of which I hadn’t known existed before this man. We knew hate sex, angry sex, quick and easy sex, dirty sex, lazy morning sex, slow sex, kinky sex, but none of that encompassed this night.
This wasn’t sex.
This was love, and we both knew it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
SHANNON
Will:Thank you for breakfast
Shannon:Gross
Will:What?
Shannon:You can’t call clit-licking your “breakfast”
Will:I can. I did.
Will:I’ll do it again.
Shannon:Such a meathead.
Will:And remember which meathead left a handprint on your ass this morning
Shannon:Oh that? Barely noticed.
Will:Do not tempt me, little girl.
Shannon:Yep, blah blah blah you’re going to spank me and tie me up. What else is new?
Will:You’re real sassy until your wrists are tied behind your back and you have a cock in your mouth
Will:And let’s put those vibrators to good use while you’re at it.
“Give me that,” Tom said, coming up behind me. He tugged my outerwear off and tossed it to the chair beside my desk. “You’ve been standing there, muttering to yourself and texting for five minutes. Whoever you’re talking to can wait but Patrick doesn’t have that muscle, and youaregoing to be late. We don’t need to start this week with an irritable Patrick.”
Tom pushed a Starbucks cup into my hand, and pointed toward the attic conference room. A hearty discussion of last night’s football game was underway when I arrived, and that distraction allowed my tardiness to go unnoticed.
Sam handed me a folder of documents I’d requested on one of his properties, and he pointed to my face. “Brought a little California sun home with you?”
