“Your turn,” I say, reaching between us to wrap my hand around his cock. He hisses through his teeth, hips bucking into my grip.
I stroke him slowly, loving the weight and heat of him in my hand. He’s thick, hard, and more than ready.
“I need you inside me, Sam.”
That’s all it takes.
He grabs a condom from the nightstand, rolls it on in a flash, and then he’s lining himself up, pressing into me inch by inch until I’m gasping, clinging to him.
“Jesus, Charlie,” he groans, burying himself to the hilt. “You feelsofucking good.”
We move together. Slow at first, deep and steady. His hands cradle my face, like this is more than sex. Like I’m more than a fling. And I feel it too. In every thrust, every kiss, every time he murmurs my name like a promise.
It builds again, faster this time. I wrap my legs around his waist, pull him in deeper.
“I’m close,” I whisper, voice shaking.
“Come with me,” he says, breath hot against my neck.
And we do. Together. His release pulses inside me just as mine crashes over again, louder, more overwhelming, and he holds me like he doesn’t want to let go.
We lie tangled together in the aftermath, skin damp, breath tangled, hearts still racing.
And somewhere, beneath the haze of pleasure and satisfaction, a dangerous thought lingers:
This was more thanjustsex.
This was the beginning of something.
11
Sam collapses beside me, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. The firelight dances across his face, turning every hard line of his jaw and every lazy curve of his smirk into something sculpted, something dangerous.
“Damn,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his tousled hair, still catching his breath.
I’m sprawled next to him, one leg tangled with his, the sheets a mess beneath us. My skin’s still humming, tingling in every place he touched, kissed, claimed. My heart’s trying to punch its way out of my chest.
“Is that your professional review?” I ask, voice breathless and teasing.
He turns his head, eyes still dark with heat, grin slow and wicked. “Sweetheart, if I gave stars, you’d break the scale.”
I laugh, shoving at his shoulder, even though I’m still reeling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” he says, voice lower now, reaching out to trail his fingers down the center of my chest, featherlight, “you were just screaming my name like it was a prayer.”
My breath catches because even now, just his touch makes my body respond like it’s still waiting for round two. The aftershocks ripple through me, subtle and sharp.
“Don’t get cocky,” I warn, though my voice betrays me.
His smile deepens, voice pure sin. “Oh, darlin’ it’s way too late for that.”
I reach for the sheet, trying to tug it over my body in some half-hearted attempt at modesty, but he’s faster. He yanks it away with a grin, eyes glittering like the devil himself has taken up residence in his smirk.
“Hey!” I yelp, laughing as I reach for it again.
“Nuh uh,” he says, shaking his head, muscles rippling as he shifts over me. “You started this, Charlie. You don’t get to hide now.”
“And what if I like hiding?”
