“Same for me,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck. “There was a part of me, deep down in a place I couldn’t tap into very often, that knew we would find our way back to each other. I didn’t know how or when, but I couldn’t imagine a future without you.”
He sighs, dropping his forehead to mine.
Then, ever so slowly, he presses inside me. My legs part, and I put one up over his ass, giving him better access.
“So damn good,” he breathes against my mouth. “Every time is better than the last.”
We move together, unrushed and in perfect sync, our bodies taking over when the world blurs into nothing but this moment. Each thrust touches a place that makes me see stars, and he knows it because he does it over and over again. My lips latch on to his, our tongues mating with the same rhythm as our bodies. It’s sensual and beautiful and as passionate as it’s ever been.
Because I’ve finally—fully—committed.
No more doubt, no more guilt, no more waiting for the other shoe to drop.
This is real and it’s ours. Mine and his.
“Fuck, I love you,” I hiss as the coiling in my belly starts to intensify.
“I love you more,” he growls, picking up speed.
In the midst of whispered endearments and kissing and fucking and loving, we crash over the edge together, riding out every ounce of pleasure until neither of us can move.
“I don’t think it’s possible to love someone more than I love you,” he says, slowly lifting his head.
What I see in his eyes nearly takes my breath away.
Love and heat and desire and satisfaction—the kind a man has when he knows he’s taken care of his woman.
And I love being his woman.
“Shower?” he asks softly.
“Yes. But not yet. I don’t want to move.”
“Okay.” He smiles, holding himself up on his elbows. “You look really pretty lying here in my bed.”
“You look pretty damn handsome yourself.”
The silence that follows isn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it’s just…normal. Two people in love literally basking in the afterglow of incredible lovemaking. It’s everything I could ever ask for and then some.
He’s just started kissing me again when there’s a brisk knock on the door.
“Jordan? It’s me.”
Jude’s voice.
“He must have your luggage.” Jordan pops a quick kiss on my nose and then rolls off the bed and pulls on his pants. “Coming!” he yells as I scramble to get under the covers. There’s a hallway from the front door that leads into the main part of the hotel room, so Jude wouldn’t be able to see me from the door, but I don’t want to risk it.
I hear them talking for a minute, but with Jordan shirtless, hair tousled, and feet bare, there’s probably no doubt what Jude interrupted.
A minute later he comes around the corner wheeling my suitcase and carryon.
“This is all, right?” he asks me.
I nod and then playfully hold out my arms. “Come carry me to the shower.”
“Your wish is my command.” He scoops me up like I weigh nothing and pads into the bathroom.
“Shower and sleep?” I ask lazily.
