She pulls me closer and kisses me. She tastes like tequila from her margarita, and it drives me wild.
I grab her ass and hoist her up until she can wrap her legs around my waist. I’m so hard already, and I groan at the friction between us as Hannah rubs against me.
“I want to feel you with nothing between us,” I say into her lips.
“We can do that,” she says.
I open my eyes and stare at her. “How?”
Her lips turn up in amusement. “I’m on the pill. And I’m clean. So if you are too…”
“I am. I had a physical before I left town.” I grip her hips and try to calm down. “Are you sure you want this?”
She smiles at me like she can read my anxiety. “Have you ever done this before, Mav?”
I shake my head.
“We don’t have to,” she says.
“I want to,” I say quickly. “I really, really want to.”
I let her down to the ground and strip off her pants and underwear. When I slip my hand between her legs, I find her more than ready for me. She fiddles with the zipper on my jeans until my cock is freed, and then I pick her up again.
Bracing her against the wall, I drive into her in one motion.
“Holy hell.” I drop my head against her shoulder. “Hannah…you feel so fucking good.”
“Mav…” Her tone is halting as I pull out and thrust forward again. “Oh, God…”
A few more hard thrusts, and she’s coming. I keep her in my arms as I walk to the bed and flip her onto her stomach. I drive into her again, and she claws at the comforter.
“Deeper,” she moans. “More.”
I give her more. Harder, deeper, faster while I hold her hair back and suck on her neck. She comes again, calling out my name, and this time, I follow her.
I come so hard I collapse on top of her afterward.
That felt like making love.
For the first time, I can admit that.
I’m getting in too deep with her.
I have to pull back.
But I don’t know how.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Filming the commercial takes longer than anticipated, and Hannah and I don’t get on the road until after noon. We should drive as far as we can. But I don’t want to let go of Hannah just yet. So, I suggest a plan.
“Platte River State Park is about eight hours from here,” I say as we hit the highway. “I figured it will be dark when we get there, so instead of camping in a tent, I have an alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Glamping.”
She claps her hands. “I’ve always wanted to do that!”
