It felt strange and wonderful. The heat. The connection. Her body stretched tight. Him filling her.
She felt her body soften, opening around him, dampness guiding him inside.
Maybe this would work after all.
When she thought he’d gone as far as he could go, he held her gaze and gave one final push. “I’m sorry,” he grit out from between clenched teeth.
She felt a sharp pinch and cried out. Her body tensed at the unexpected twinge of pain. But he soothed her with his mouth, kissing her until her muscles relaxed and passion once again held her in its erotic embrace.
The hot, frantic feeling took over again. The feeling that she needed to move and feel him against her.
Her fingers tightened around the hard bulge of the muscles of his arms and shoulders, dragging him down on top of her, needing the contact. She moaned when her taut, aching nipples met the hot, bronzed skin of his powerfully sculpted chest. The solid weight of him on top of her felt incredible.
His tongue slid deeper into her mouth as she started to rub against him, craving the friction that would ease the restless yearnings clamoring inside her. The fierce pounding of his heart against hers drove her on.
He started to thrust. Slowly at first. With little circles of his hips and then, when her hips rose up to meet him, with longer strokes until the force of the churning thrusts seemed to claim her entire body.
She felt the familiar pressure building. But it was different. More intense. More meaningful. The joining of their bodies into one had heightened every sensation.
He was feeling it too. His mouth moved from hers, as if the effort to control himself had robbed him of all but the ability to breathe. But he was drawn so tight, she didn’t think he was even doing that.
He was pumping faster now. Deeper. Harder. Grinding with every wicked stroke, forcing her toward the edge.
She gasped with every thrust, arching to meet the frantic pace.
Sensation coiled inside her. Tightening. Concentrating. Gathering in a hot, shimmering ball, and then …
She cried out as her body started to clench and release, as passion exploded inside her, as the sharp, hot spasms of pleasure tightened around him.
He drove into her one more time and cried out, his entire body stiffening as the force of his own release hit. He rocked against her, the hot rush of his seed mixing with the ebbing tide of her own pleasure in a warm, cascading fall.
She wanted to hold on to this moment forever.
Awash in the euphoria of the most amazing moment of her life, she was surprised when he suddenly rolled off her. Without the weight of him on top of her, without the fullness of him inside her, she suddenly felt cold. A prickle of unease wormed its way into her consciousness.
She expected him to take her into his arms and cradle her against his body the way he usually did, but instead he was lying on his back staring up at the ceiling, his magnificently honed chest rising and falling with the heaviness of his breathing.
She stole a surreptitious glance at him from under her lashes. His body was incredible. He looked even more powerful without his clothes.
Why wasn’t he saying anything? Though only a few seconds had passed, the silence seemed interminable.
Say something.
“I’m sorry.”
Her stomach dropped.Not that.
His face was like stone. He wouldn’t even look at her. “That should never have happened.”
The regret in his voice was like a knife in the chest. If she’d secretly hoped for some declaration, it had just become brutally clear that she was going to be very disappointed.
Her heart twisted. She was a fool. She’d gambled with her innocence and lost. All she’d succeeded in proving was that he lusted for her. Lust was not love. Maybe it was she who didn’t know the difference.
He was a man who loved a challenge—who thrived under competition—and now the challenge was gone.
My God, what had she done?
What the hell had he done?
