Her lips curved, and her bittersweet eyes melted into pure warmth. “You above me. Part of me. That’s all.”
He could give her that. And in doing so, ease his own months of hunger.
He descended into her arms and took her mouth, and her plush lips opened to him, all sweetness and bold need. She claimed his tongue, and he shuddered. Then he sucked the tip of hers so he could feel the shift of her hips beneath him, could trace the arch of her neck with his fingertips.
Her hands glided down his flanks, his ass, with a hum of praise, but his body meant nothing, nothing, except in service to her. So he concentrated on her and her alone, rather than his own fierce arousal.
He heard the rush of her exhalation when he nipped at the side of her neck, the muscle of her shoulder, the tender curve of her earlobe. Marked the widening welcome of her thighs as he teased those sensitive nipples to tightness with careful strokes of his thumb and the lightest, gentlest pinches. Inhaled her whimper when his hand coasted over her belly and down to the dark, fragrant center of her, where she was plump and unfurling for him like a bloom.
Her clitoris pushed against his thumb as it grew stiff, and her slickness bathed his fingers as he breached her inner softness and found a slow, caressing rhythm that drew her knees tight against his sides.
He desperately wanted to taste her. Wanted to pull her atop him, her thighs around his ears a shelter from the outside world, and drown in her scent, her response. More than that, though, he wanted the sight of her mercurial, expressive face suffused with need, with ecstasy, with—finally—languid satisfaction.
Besides, she’d asked to have him above her, and he would deny her nothing.
He’d buried his face in the curve of her neck to lick and suck as her breaths turned to pants and she started to tremble beneath his touch. But when she began to rock against his thumb, spear herself on his fingers, her cries choked and keening, he raised his head to watch.
She came in unselfconscious abandon, her mouth parted in a long moan, her eyes shut tightly. Her orgasm squeezed and pulsed around his fingers as he gentled his strokes and saw her through the pleasure.
Her neck was damp, vibrating with her heartbeat, when he returned his face there.
She tasted like sweat and roses, and when he traced her face with his fingers, the curve of her mouth humbled him. He’d pleased her. Callie. His Callie.
After a minute, the final throbs of her climax faded, and he tenderly cupped the swollen flesh between her legs.
He needed guidance. “What do you want now?”
She answered immediately, and her whisper was a tickle that speared to his groin. “For you to lose control.”
He lifted his head in a jerk and met her heavy-lidded eyes.
“Show me everything in here.” She smoothed a hand over his chest, over his heart. Then her fingers slid down, down, down, and squeezed his cock tight. “And here. I want all of you.”
He reared to his knees and reached for the bedside table, where a condom package sat open and waiting. Brushing his hand aside, she rolled it down his length with a pleased murmur, and then she opened her legs wide, her knees high.
He took her invitation. He took her.
With the first push of his body into hers, she moaned again and dug those shiny nails into his back, and he felt each one like a spur. He bucked against her, into her, his hands clutching her hips, her ass, her shoulders in a search for more leverage, more depth.
Dimly, he registered his own muffled, raspy grunts and groans, the rapid rhythm of penetration and withdrawal as he sank again and again into her sleek wetness. And while he hadn’t intended to abandon finesse in this way, to treat with her anything but gentleness, she’d asked him to show her his need, his love, and she was responding to its intensity, meeting it with her own.
With each impact of his hips against her spread thighs, she ground against him and exhaled a whimpering gasp, and the clutch of her body became tighter and tighter. She began to quiver around his cock, and he braced himself on an arm, his hand sinking into the mattress, and raised himself to watch the slide of his dick inside her, the way she jerked and panted when his fingers found her clit and stroked.
This time, she cried out his name as she came. He took that cry into his mouth, then thrust deep one, two, three more times and shouted out his gratitude. His adulation. His reverence, despite all the savagery of his need.
Afterward, he laid in her arms, surrounded by her in every possible way, and he willed the sensation to soak into every molecule of his body, every synapse in his brain, so he’d never lose it.
Those time-travelers would have to fight him for Callie, because he was never letting her go. They’d tumble through the centuries determined to claim her for their own, and rightfully so. But he’d fend them off, every one.
He should probably learn a martial art of some sort.
Finally, she stirred beneath him, and he lifted up to see a pleased, lazy smile on her gorgeous face. A new expression, and his favorite, bar none.
“Thomas?” She flicked his earlobe with a gentle forefinger. “Sometimes your single-minded concentration is a really, really good thing.”
When he laughed, she laughed too, and he had to discover how that tasted on her lips. And then how the rest of her tasted.
Good thing they had three more days in a hotel.
