“Does he?” She was working on my shirt buttons now, moving with maddening slowness. “What are the consequences for breaking those policies?”
“Severe.” My voice had gone rough. “Very severe.”
“Mmm. I guess I’ll have to take my punishment then.”
God, this woman.
I lifted her onto the control panel—carefully avoiding the buttons—and stepped between her legs. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Promises, promises.” She pulled me down for a kiss, and I tasted peppermint hot chocolate. Of course, she’d already been sampling from the station downstairs.
“If you hit a button,” I murmured against her lips, “and change the lighting sequence I spent three hours programming?—”
“Then you’ll just reprogram it.” She bit my bottom lip gently. “Stop thinking about timelines and sequences and let me wreck your control for once.”
“You wreck my control every day.”
“Good.” Her hands were in my hair now, pulling me closer. “Then this should be easy.”
Below us, the empty Evergreen Room sparkled with winter magic. Above us, stars twinkled in patterns I’d designed. But all I could focus on was the woman in my arms.
I lost myself in her—the heat of her mouth, the grip of her hands pulling me closer. Everything else fell away. The world shrank down to this booth, to her scent, her breath, and those quiet sounds she made against my lips that made it impossible to think straight.
She unbuckled and unfastened my dress pants and shoved them down, freeing my cock. I moaned, the sound ragged and foreign even to my own ears, as she wrapped one hand around it and gave long, bold strokes. My hips jerked involuntarily, my control shattered by her touch.
My own hands were frantic. I slid the straps of her dress down, and she wriggled, helping me, sliding her arms out of it until the fabric pooled at her waist.
I pushed down the strapless bra, and my breath hitched.Damn. They were fuller now, softer—somehow even more incredible than before. They’d always been jaw-dropping, but after our twin girls, they carried this quiet proof of what we’d made together. I brushed my thumbs over her nipples, and she tore her mouth from mine with a sharp, breathless sound.
Instead of coming back to kiss me, she dropped her head, her hair sliding over my stomach like silk—and then she took me into her mouth. The heat was unreal, the pressure perfect. She knew exactly what she was doing, every move pushing me closer to the edge until my legs were shaking and I was seconds from losing it.
“No,” I gritted out, pulling her away gently by her hair. “Not like that. Not this time.”
I needed to be inside her. Now.
I shoved the bunched fabric of her dress up to her hips and stepped between her legs, kissing her again, deep and possessive. As my tongue plundered her mouth, I slid a finger into her wet pussy. She was so ready for me, hot and slick.
She cried out into the kiss, her hips bucking against my hand. I added a second finger, curling them, stroking that magic spot inside her until she was writhing. Then I focused my thumb on her clit, making slow, firm circles.
“Grady,” she begged, her voice a broken whisper. “Please. I need you. Fuck me.”
I didn’t need her to say another word. I lined myself up with her, eyes locked on hers, and the thought hit me like fire through my veins. I wanted to give her another child. I want to feel her body grow with our baby again, to see her bloom like only she could.
I drove deep into her in one hard, unrelenting thrust. She arched against me with a sharp cry, digging her nails into my shoulders. I set a brutal rhythm, pounding into her while the slick sound of our bodies meeting matched our ragged breaths. I didn’t let up on her clit, my thumb moving in time with each thrust, determined to wring every drop of pleasure out of her.
“Look at me,” I demanded, and her hazy, lust-darkened eyes found mine. “Come for me, Mollie.”
It was the look in her eyes—that trusting expression—that undid us both. Her inner muscles clenched around me, a violent, pulsing wave, and her scream was muffled against my chest. The feeling was too intense—straight out of a dream.
My own control snapped. With a guttural groan, I drove into her one last time, spilling myself deep inside her, my own orgasm a blinding, white-hot release that seemed to go on forever.
For a long moment, the only sound was our harsh, gasping breaths, mingling in the quiet, star-lit booth. I leaned my forehead against hers, my body still trembling with the aftershocks.
Then, a slow, delirious giggle escaped her. It was infectious. A chuckle rumbled in my chest, then another, until we were both laughing, breathless and spent, clinging to each other in the aftermath.
“Oh, god,” she finally managed, her voice husky. “My skirt is probably all wrinkled now.”
I kissed her shoulder, then her neck, then her lips, soft and lingering this time. “Worth it.”
