He groaned. I couldn’t breathe, stretched to the point of both pain and pleasure. I was so damn glad my endorphins had kicked in, hiking my desire that I barely felt even a twinge in my wound.
His palms swept up my body to squeeze my breasts. His eyes burned with hunger I felt in me as he licked my parted lips. He started moving his hips, thrusting harder, faster. I hastily locked my legs around him but I still slid across the counter—
Jack picked me up and I flung my arms around his neck, and then he was moving, walking across, and I sank deeper onto his hard length. He pressed me up against the cool surface of the wall.
Our images were reflected in the mirror opposite, Jack pounding into me was so hot and erotic—God! Another climax rushed up.
“Jack,” I whimpered. So close. I moved with him, rubbing against his invading cock. He grunted, angled his hips, and his rigid length dragged against my clit, the friction giving me the edge I needed. A white-hot blitz lit through me, a harsh cry tearing from my throat as I climaxed…
Jack pounded into me, once, twice, then he groaned, his body stiffening as he found his own release.
“Fuck, Ray!” he grunted. He lowered his brow to my shoulder, keeping me nailed against the wall. After several seconds, he lifted his head, a wry smile tugging his mouth. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“You’re complaining?” I breathed. The intensity of his stare had my stupid heart galloping around like mad.
“Hell, no. I can’t think of a better way to die.” He eased out of my body and lowered me to my feet.
I grabbed his biceps until my shaky legs could hold me. His chest heaved, dragging my focus to the demonic crab—his birth sign—inked on his right pec and linking with the Celtic hieroglyphs traversing over his shoulder and biceps.
Then Jack moved away and discarded the condom in a trashcan.
Frowning, I stepped into the spacious glass stall to finish my shower. He joined me. I swiped the water from my face as he lathered shampoo into his hair. “Jack?”
“Yeah?” He squinted at me through one eye, rinsing off the suds.
“When is your birthday?”
His brow scrunched. “Er…July 1st.”
“That’s today!” I gasped.
“It is?” He raked back his dripping hair. “Oh, right.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “That’s it?”
“It’s a day like any other.” He reached for the shower gel.
In my family, no matter how hard things were, there was always cake. Mom or Ila would bake it and ice it with our name. But from the little info Jack had revealed about his family dynamics, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he’d dismissed his birthday.
Damn. If only I could bake. I slipped my arms around his neck, enjoying the sensation of his wet, hard body against mine.
He smirked, his hands settling on my waist. “Another round?”
Smiling, I kissed him on the mouth. “Happy birthday. If I’d known, I would have—”
“Hey.” His hold tightened, his gaze drifting over my face, soft and warm. “You’ve given me the one thing I never believed possible. You.”
I squeezed him hard, my eyes burning. My heart constricted that his happiness stemmed from the simple fact that I’d agreed to try this relationship.
Much later, wearing my tartan red and green boxer shorts, I eased the Band-Aid from my wound. It appeared to be healing, but I pasted on more ointment and put on a fresh bandage. My fever seemed to be easing, too. I slipped on my tank top and strolled into the bedroom and sat on the bed.
“Hungry?” Jack asked from inside the dressing room as he grabbed a white t-shirt from a shelf. Charcoal-gray sweat shorts hung low on his lean hips.
“Yes…” My gaze swept over the sexy tonal tatts. “You know, I never pegged you as someone who’d go for ink.”
He stopped at the doorway, eyes narrowing. “As opposed to what?”
“Well, Max, before Ila, with his penchant for fights, smoking, drinking, and women. And then there’s War.”
