“Perfect,” he whispered against her skin. “Just perfect.”
“I feel underdressed,” she teased. “Or are you overdressed?”
Before he could answer, she locked her toes in his waistband and tugged his sweats. Before they even hit the floor she took him into her hands and began stroking him from base to tip, running her fingertip along the ridge at the top.
Like a whisper, she moved up and down, driving him out of his mind. He grew harder as her hands gripped tighter until he was certain he was going to explode. Which was why he gently took her wrists to stop her.
“You didn’t like that?” she said, knowing damn well he loved it.
“When I come it’s going to be inside you.”
“But we don’t have a condom.”
“Stay right here.”
Decker made a beeline for the bathroom, opened his shaving kit and—praise Buddha, Elvis, and whoever else was listening— he had a strip of “just in case” condoms he kept in there. By the time he made it back to bed, he was covered and ready to go.
“So certain of yourself.”
“You never know.” Then he paused and realized how that made him look. “I haven’t been with anyone since my injury. So it’s not like that.”
“I never thought it was,” she assured him. “You forget that Iknowyou now. I know the kind of man you are. You’re the real deal, Decker. Don’t forget that.”
Jesus, now he was the one getting glassy-eyed. Never in a million years did he imagine a woman saying that to him. Let alone this amazing woman. So he’d be damned if he let her down. Poppy made him feel like he could be his best self, and he wasn’t going to lose that.
He wasn’t going to lose her.
“You sure about this?” he asked, leaning over her.
She pushed up until the tip of his erection was pressing into her core. “More than sure.”
“This isn’t some one-off, because I’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime.”
She cupped his cheek. “You’re not a one-night stand, Decker.”
Maybe it was the genuineness in her tone, or the confident way she was looking at him, but he couldn’t help himself. He gripped her hips, yanked her down until her ass was teetering on the edge of the bed and, while still standing, he entered her in one thrust.
“Decker,” she said.
“Quiet, Angel. Remember the rules?”
“I do. Do you?”
And holy hell, she squeezed her core so tightly around him it took everything he had not to yell her name. She did it again and he lifted a brow.
“You want to play? Let’s play,” he challenged.
He pulled back and pushed in, using long deep thrusts and shallow withdraws. He didn’t warm up or start things slow. He went from zero to a hundred in point-zero-one seconds.
She lifted her feet and rested them on the edge of the footboard, then let her legs fall all the way open. He took advantage of the position and stepped further between her thighs so that when he pumped he hit the top of her core. To her credit she didn’t even make a peep. But when he looked up she was biting her lower lip so hard it had turned purple.
“That’s dirty,” he said.
“I thought you liked it dirty.”
“I never said that.”
“Your face did,” she said. “Your face tells me you like that I like it dirty. It also tells me that you’re about as close to lift-off as I am. So let’s stop with the games and get down to business.”
