I stood, stripping off my shirt, kicking off shoes and jeans faster than I’d ever moved in my life. Her eyes raked over me—hungry, awed—and it fed the cocky bastard in me. I lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carried her to the bedroom. Laid her out on my bed like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there.
She reached for me, hands sliding down my chest, nails scraping just enough to make me hiss. I settled between her thighs, cock heavy and aching, nudging at her entrance. She was so wet I slid through her folds easily, coating myself, teasing us both.
“Look at me,” I said, voice low and commanding.
Her eyes locked on mine—dark, trusting, wrecked.
I pushed in slow. Inch by inch. Watching her face the whole time. The way her lips parted on a silent gasp, the way her brows drew together in pleasure so intense it almost looked like pain. She was tight—velvet heat gripping me, pulling me deeper. When I was fully seated, buried to the hilt, I paused, letting her feel every thick inch stretching her, spreading those warm, bare folds around me.
“Fuck,” I groaned. “You feel like heaven, baby. So tight. So perfect.”
She clenched around me involuntarily, and I nearly lost it right there.
Her nails raked down my back—hard, possessive—and the sting made me thrust once, deep and deliberate. She moaned, back arching, breasts pressing up against my chest.
I started to move—slow, controlled rolls of my hips at first, savoring every slick slide, every flutter of her walls around me. Then faster, harder, when her legs tightened around my waist and she started meeting me thrust for thrust. The room filled with the sounds of us—skin on skin, her breathy cries, my low growls, the wet rhythm of me claiming her.
I angled my hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her sob my name. Her nails dug deeper into my back, scoring lines that would mark me tomorrow, and I fucking loved it. Loved how she let go, how she trusted me to take her apart.
I reached between us, thumb finding her clit, rubbing tight circles until she shattered—walls pulsing around my cock, milking me, her whole body trembling as she came with a broken cry that sounded like my name and surrender all at once.
Only then did I let myself go. Thrusting deep, chasing my own release, spilling inside her with a guttural groan against her neck, tasting coconut and sweat and her.
We stayed like that—wrapped together, hearts hammering, breath ragged. I kissed her slow and lazy, tasting honey on her lips again.
Mine, I thought, possessive and smug and utterly ruined.
All mine.
CHAPTER 6
ETHAN
After that night,we didn’t spend a single night apart.
Not one.
Which sounds insane now.
But back then it felt inevitable. Like gravity.
Like of course this is how it happens.
For a few days we did the normal thing.
Dinner at my place. Takeout cartons on the counter. Her perched on the edge of my couch in one of my T-shirts like she’d always lived there. Falling asleep halfway through movies we never finished.
Waking up tangled together like we hadn’t meant to stay.
But by midweek, even that felt like too much effort. Too much driving across the city. Too many elevators and lobbies and schedules.
One afternoon my BlackBerry buzzed during a meeting.
Her.
Subject:Change of plan?
I opened it under the table like a teenager hiding notes.
