His fingers find my waist again, skimming the sensitive line of my ribs, brushing down to the curve of my hip with maddening slowness. “Then I’ll just have to coax you out.”
He lowers himself, his body warm and solid against mine. His mouth brushes against mine, soft and teasing, and then drifts lower. Over my jaw. Down my throat. Pausing at my collarbone.
He murmurs against my skin, voice husky and slow. “Round two?”
I arch into him, already breathless. “That was your professional review, not mine.”
He chuckles, lips trailing lower. “Guess I better earn it, then.”
“Only if I get to be on top this time.”
That earns an almost guttural sound from Sam. His eyes flash like I just lit the fuse on something dangerous.
“God help me,” he mutters, voice thick with need.
And just like that, the fire roars back to life, like ourbodies know the steps by heart now and want to skip the slow parts.
His mouth trails lower, tongue teasing the edge of my ribs, dragging heat across my skin until I’m arching beneath him, every nerve lit, every part of me screaming more. He dips lower, biting gently at my waist, and I gasp, threading my fingers into his damp hair.
“You’re trouble,” I whisper, breathless.
He grins against my skin. “You started it when you pulled my towel off.”
“Zero regrets.”
“Good,” he growls.
Then, in one fluid motion, he flips us, muscles flexing beneath me as he rolls us over until I’m straddling him. His hands grip my thighs, spreading me over his lap like he’s savoring the view. I can feel him hard beneath me, thick and eager, and the look in his eyes?
Possession. Admiration. Pure, wrecked hunger.
“Goddamn, Charlie.”
He sits up, mouth crashing into mine, hot and unrestrained. His hands slide up my back, one threading under my hair to grip the base of my neck while the other presses me down onto him, making sure I feel all of him.
I roll my hips slowly, grinding against him in lazy, devastating circles. He groans, head tipping back, and I chase his mouth again, biting his lower lip until he gasps.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he pants.
I grin, lips brushing his. “You started it.”
His grip tightens on my hips, and his next words are nothing but gravel and desperation. “Then finish it.”
I reach between us, wrap my hand around him, and guide him inside, slow and steady, until I’m full. Until I’m stretched in the best way.
We both moan.
“God, you’re so big, Sam” I pant.
I set the pace, rocking against him, slow at first, savoring the way he watches me like I’m both heaven and hell. He lets me take the reins… lets me ride him like I’ve done this a thousand times. Like I own him.
And maybe, right now, I do.
His hands find my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples as I ride him harder. Our breath turns to panting, skin slapping against skin, the sound of sex and fire and the heady rhythm ofyesyesyesfilling the space between us.
I don’t stop until he’s gasping my name, digging his fingers into my hips, body bucking up into mine like he can’t get deep enough, close enough, lost enough.
When it hits, it rips through both of us like lightning.
