While it was hard for her to admit, the only real thing tonight would be the sex.
Mercifully, Tank didn’t give her too much time to wallow in those negative feelings.
He shifted off the couch, rising to stand beside it.
She started to sit, but he held her down with a strong hand on her shoulder. “Don’t move.”
McKenna relaxed back into the cushions, drawing in a shaky breath when he slipped his fingers under the elastic of her silly Mickey pajama bottoms. He tugged them and her panties off in one go, drawing them down before tossing them to the floor.
She resisted the urge to cover herself again, closing her hands into fists by her sides. Tank rewarded her efforts with a smile, one finger traveling from the base of her throat, through the valley of her breasts, and over her stomach. It stopped just short of where she really wanted that finger to be.
“Good girl,” he murmured again, acknowledging her efforts.
As he turned toward the coffee table, she watched as he opened his wallet and pulled out a condom.
Her body shivered, goose bumps forming. Because they’d reached the moment of truth.
It spoke to her level of trust in this man that she knew if she said stop, he would.
Not that she had any intention of saying that.
As far as she was concerned, the words “stop” and “no” didn’t exist in her vocabulary tonight. She wanted everything Tank was willing to give.
Because, while she was too far gone right now, tomorrow she wouldn’t be.
Tomorrow, she would tuck this—and any wayward emotions—into the proper box, before locking it away.
This was going to be a one-night stand.
Her first.
Of course, when Tank shoved his boxers down, adding them to the pile of clothing on the floor, she reconsidered…briefly.
Because holy shit.
“Um,” she whispered, taking in his long, thick cock. For a fleeting moment, McKenna chastised herself for being a reckless fool because that model in the hot tub, the one from Turks and Caicos, had warned her—and every other woman in the world—that he was hung like a mule.
Tank sank down on the side of the couch, his bare ass pressing against her hip.
His smirk was back, but it didn’t bug her anymore like it used to. If anything, it lightened the moment and, yes, while she wasn’t proud of it, that smirk dared her, just as he intended it to.
The man had become too adept at reading her thoughts and responding in exactly the way she needed.
“Touch me,” he demanded, twisting his hips so she knew without words where he wanted her hands.
She grasped his cock without hesitance. Just as she knew he’d stop, she also knew he wouldn’t hurt her, and that gave her the freedom to explore without fear.
The way Tank groaned low in his throat encouraged her to tighten her grip, to stroke him from root to tip, up and down. Precome beaded on the head of his dick, and she started to lift, curious, wanting to taste.
Tank’s hand landed on her shoulder again, pressing her down.
“You use that pretty mouth on me and this ends way too fast,” he said, his admission making her ridiculously happy. She’d never questioned Tank’s ability to make her come hard and fast. It might not have happened yet, but she didn’t doubt for a second he was going to give her the best orgasm of her life.
However, the thought that she might be able to drive him out of his mind as well was a heady one. Because, unlike her and her pitiful sexual history, Tank had taken many lovers to bed—probably all gorgeous and well-versed.
McKenna squeezed her legs together, her pussy reminding her that it was still there and waiting none too patiently. “I want you,” she said again. Those seemed to be the only words her hormone-drowned brain could think to say.
Tank tore open the condom wrapper. He pulled the condom free and started to roll it onto his cock, but McKenna took over quickly, finishing the task for him as he murmured praise under his breath.
