My mouth goes dry. “Maybe we should move to the?—”
“Now.”
“Now is good.” The words tumble out with an embarrassing lack of dignity. “Now is?—”
He presses a tender kiss to my inner thigh, and I stop talking as all of my brain cells spontaneously combust.
His breath skims over my skin, hot and deliberate. I’m grateful for the counter at my back keeping me upright. He drags his lips to the crease where my thigh meets my hip, then works his way toward my center with a patience that makes me want to scream.
“Jeremy.”
“Mmm?”
“If you’re trying to torture me?—”
I lose the rest of the sentence as his tongue finds me with an intensity that makes my soul leave my body for a second. My head thumps back against an upper cabinet as white-hot heat floods my system. I keep one hand fisted in his thick hair while my other palm presses flat against the laminate countertop.
He lifts my right leg, hooking my knee over his shoulder to open me completely to his gaze and his mouth. The shift in angle sends a fresh jolt of electricity straight to my core, and I do my best to swallow a scream. Unlike my pitiful excuse of an ex, who was barely willing to devote five minutes to my pleasure before he got what he wanted, Jeremy is methodical, interpreting every moanand shudder like he’s spent years memorizing how to take me to the edge and hold me there.
“Jeremy, please…” The words come out as a broken rasp. “I’m going to?—”
He lets out a low hum against my skin that I feel all the way to my marrow. “I’ve got you,” he rasps against my thigh. “Give me everything, Avah.”
He increases the pressure, his tongue tracing tight circles until I’m nothing but raw nerve. The orgasm rips through me with a violence that steals the air from my lungs. My entire body clenches, toes curling against the floor as he holds me through the waves of aftershocks. I should probably be embarrassed by the needy sounds I can’t manage to hold back, but Jeremy’s hands only tighten on my hips, as if watching me come apart is his favorite thing ever.
When I finally manage to open my eyes, he’s still on his knees. His mouth is wet, his dark hair a mess, and his expression is so patently smug I want to throat punch him and kiss him at the same time.
“Bedroom,” I choke out, my voice a total wreck.
“Maybe we should…” He repeats my earlier words, grin widening.
“Now.”
He rises to his feet with a self-satisfied laugh and hauls me up in one smooth motion. I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms locked around his neck as he navigates the five steps to the cramped bedroom. The mattress groans under our combined weight as he pulls back the quilt and drops me onto the center of the bed.
I’m already clawing at his shirt with hands that won’t stop trembling. “Off.”
He stands and strips bare with a speed that makes my pulse spike. Then he’s hovering over me, skin flushed and eyes wild. This man is used to private jets and five-star everything, yet here he is in my shabby apartment like there’s no place on earth he’d rather be.
“I bought new bedding,” I tell him as I yank the top sheet down past my hips. A flush that has nothing to do with a mind-blowing orgasm creeps up my neck. “The ones that came with the place were fine, but I...I wanted something here to belong only to me.”
Jeremy’s expression softens, tenderness breaking through the raw lust in his eyes. He runs a palm across the soft cotton, his gaze locked on me in a way that silently acknowledges the effort I made to make this place mine.
“The sheets aren’t the only thing here that are yours,” he says gruffly. Before I can truly process that statement, his mouth grazes the sensitive dip of my collarbone. “But you should also know that I’m going to wreck them.”
A laugh bubbles up in my chest. “They’re from Target, Jeremy. Not a huge thread-count investment.”
“They’re perfect.” He shifts my legs wider with his knees. The head of his thick cock nudges against my entrance, and the sheer, blunt pressure of it makes my brain go quiet. “You’re perfect.”
He doesn’t wait for a comeback. Not that I could form one with him pushing inside me in a single thrust that fills me so completely I have to arch my back to take all of him. The bed creaks in protest, which only serves to ground me in the reality of the moment. This isn’t a fever dream. The weight of him, the friction of our bodies, and the way he’s watching my face to make sure I’m with him for every inch—it’s all so real.
“Okay?” he asks, his jaw tight with the effort of holding back.
My fingers dig into his shoulders as my eyes drift shut. “More.” It’s a word I can’t keep myself from associating with this man.
He starts to move, and I match his rhythm instantly, my hips rising to meet every deep stroke. Our night together on the island was about escaping the world, but this feels like we’re building a new one. At least that’s what my heart keeps saying, blatantly ignoring my pleas to shut up.
“Look at me, Avah.”
