“Gabby, listen to me, please. I wasn’t expecting this.” He captured her face in his hand and turned her gaze to him. “I didn’t bring anything to keep us safe.”
Blinking, she forced herself to process what he was saying.
And smiled.
“I did.” She slid free of his touch and tried to remember where she set her purse. “Even though I have never had any reason to be sexually optimistic, I am perpetually prepared.”
She didn’t mention that was because of her work at a woman’s free clinic, one of many kinds of volunteering she did in the aftermath of Jeremy Covington’s attack. But she didn’t want to think about that now.
Slipping from the room, she retraced her steps fromwhen she’d first arrived and found her bag on the entry table. Out of habit, she rechecked the locks on the front and back door then returned to the bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she spotted Clay still in the dark, a shaft of moonlight slanting across his thighs where he sat at the end of the queen-size bed.
Thighs—she noticed—that were now bare.
Gabriella locked the bedroom door. As she stalked back to him, she realized she was dizzy from literally holding her breath. Anticipation filled her.
“Here.” She laid two packets on the bed beside him, realizing now that he wore his boxers and nothing else.
Intriguing shadows played over his chest and she was seized with the desire to flip on all the lights and study him thoroughly. She settled for trailing her fingertips up his bare arms as she stepped between his splayed thighs.
His skin was hot to the touch. His muscles twitched and bunched as she moved over them. He rose to his feet and her mouth went dry.
“Gabby, you floor me. Drive me wild and leave me breathless. I want you more than air.” He cupped her hips and slipped his hands underneath her sweater to stroke along the waistband of her skirt.
She shivered at the light scrape of his callus-roughened palms along the tissue-thin bodysuit she’d worn beneath her clothes.
“Your words make me feel special, but you should realize, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” she warned him, certain she wouldn’t live up to any expectations of “amazing.” “So don’t set the bar too high.” “There’s no bar. No expectations other than that we’re honest with each other.” He palmed the small of her back and pressed her to him so his words were whispered into her ear. “I’m just reeling athow damn lucky I am to have you walk into my life after all this time like my very best dreams.”
“Oh.” She relaxed into him. “I like the sound of that.” She’d wrestled with bad dreams long enough to know how fortunate she would be to replace them with something beautiful. Something that looked like this night.
She got lost in his touch after that, giving herself over to the feel of his hands skimming her skirt down her hips. The fabric slid away into a pool at her bare feet while Clay moved to her sweater, dragging the cashmere and mohair blend up her shoulders and over her head until she stood beside him in a simple silk bodysuit that was for comfort more than looks.
Still, she could feel Clay’s approval in the soft growl beside her ear as he dipped a palm beneath one pale yellow strap. Tugged it aside. His mouth landed on her collarbone, kissing the skin as he bared more of her. Gabriella arched into him, aching for total contact.
He slid the silk top down, revealing her breast for only a moment before his lips claimed it. She twisted her fingers in his dark hair, holding him there as ribbons of pleasure teased through her in all directions from that sensitive place. He laved and suckled until she all but wriggled herself free of the remaining strap on her lingerie to give him access to the other breast.
Heat gathered between her thighs, spurring her closer to him until he lowered her to the bed. Before her head hit the plump white pillow, he had a knee between her legs, his hand palming her sex through the damp silk. Pleasure coiled tightly inside her, each stroke of his fingers promising an even greater reward. She lifted her hips, needing more. Wanting everything. But he took his time drawing out every single sensation until she pulsed with pleasure and anticipation.By the time he fastened his mouth on her other nipple, she was so close to orgasm she could only hold on tight and wait for the inevitable.
It felt. So. Good.
Her release catapulted her into sensual oblivion, a place of tossing, turning, writhing fulfillment. The orgasms she’d managed to give herself in the past—shocking, happy surprises she’d discovered far later than most women—paled in comparison to the raw, lusty tumult that Clay had wrought from her body.
When she was recovered enough to gather a few wits, she wanted to smother him in kisses, but he leaned away to find the condom and shed his boxers. Even her bodysuit efficiently disappeared while she tried to catch a breath.
“Hold on to me.” The rough command made her smile, even as it reminded her that he hadn’t found his own fulfillment yet.
She wanted him to have this same feeling of wicked decadence that she did right now. But before she could say as much, he was lifting her higher on the pillows, propping her head and kissing her lips while he positioned himself between her thighs.
Then she did hold on to him. Her fingers wound together behind his neck while she stared up into his dark gaze. She could see him better now in the moonlight, her eyes adjusted to the dim shades of gray. She liked the fierceness in his expression, a fierceness devoted to her pleasure and to making this night beautiful for her. He didn’t have to say it. She knew. She felt it in all the ways he’d put her first ever since she told him she needed him.
The emotions of that realization simmered just beneath the surface, but she couldn’t focus on them as Clay held her hips and edged inside her inch by tantalizinginch. Sex post-orgasm was incredible. Or maybe the incredible factor owed everything to Clayton. She arched up to kiss him, wrapping her legs around his waist. Their tongues dueled in a dance slower than the deep, thrusting rhythm of their joined bodies. She lost sense of time, rolling on top of him at one point and then back again, her hair spilling over her eyes and her feet tangling in the duvet.
She could feel the tension in him build as he levered himself up on his elbows, his hips meeting hers again and again. He cupped a breast in his hand then, lifting her and feasting on her all over again, calling forth that same tension in her.
Again.
Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly reach that peak twice in one night, he slipped his hand between them and touched her, circling that most tender place with his thumb and forefinger.
Her release rocked her from head to toe, vibrating along every muscle and wringing pleasure from everywhere. She was so caught up in it, holding on to Clay for dear life, that his shout of release mingled with her muffled cry against his shoulder. They lay together, side by side on the bed, for long minutes afterward while the world seemed to right itself slowly.
