Whoa.
As though he had all the time in the world, he undressed her. He used his mouth, his hands, his body to turn her into a mess of aroused desire.
Finally, he got to her panties. He took his time sliding them down her legs, past her thighs, over her knees. She lifted her hips, willing him to end the torture and have his way with her. Take her deep, like he’d always done before.
It didn’t work.
She was naked before him, more ready for him than she’d ever been ready for anything before. With her eyes closed and her mind pretty sure she’d never been this turned on before, her breath caught as he stroked her thighs, planted kisses on the inside of her knees, and moved his way up to her core.
And then Eli Howard’s mouth did things to her body that she didn’t know were possible. His hands hitched under her thighs—baring her, opening her, lifting her to him.
There were few coherent thoughts going on in her brain. Not when his tongue, mouth, and hands were telling her a story without using any words. She understood, somewhere deep down, that he was trying to communicate something important. Something that mattered to him enough that he was practically worshipping her. But the only thing that mattered was the crest of the wave pulsing over her, washing her away.
Marlee was not loud during sex. Despite the fact that she was generally a pretty loud person, when it came to climaxing, she was surprisingly quiet.
With Eli? Different story.
She cried out, her moan cresting into a crescendo while the “Hallelujah” chorus seemed to play in her mind. Yes, that sounded dramatic. Overly so.
It wasn’t.
Eli wasn’t using words, because there were no words to describe the sensations. The feelings. The way her legs were heavy, but her heart was light. Her mouth was parched, but she had everything she’d ever needed.
The sensation of floating back into herself had her opening her eyes, meeting his. He was naked, sheathed, and poised over her. She was nearly all the way down from her pleasure when he spread her legs, centered himself, and then went inside her.
They’d had sex before.
They’d had amazing sex before.
That was not this. This was not just sex. It felt less like something carnal and more like a promise.
This time, there was no driving into her, pulling out nearly all the way, and then taking her over and over. This time, Eli’s strokes were slow, measured, lazy. His mouth was on hers, mimicking there what he was doing below.
Her arms gripped his back, her legs wrapped around his waist, and with ankles hooked, she held on to him with everything she had.
This build took less time, but when the wave took over, Marlee continued holding on to Eli. Knowing he would catch her when she landed.
And when he met her there, his own orgasm overtaking him, everything in the world righted itself—like they’d just been tilted and then everything was fine. He fell against her, his weight pressing her into the memory foam.
Her heart swelled.
They’d be okay.
She pressed a kiss to the dark hair at the crown of his head. She fiddled with the hair at his temples, both of them sated. Neither saying a word.
Still inside her, he lifted himself onto his forearms, gazing at her like she was chocolate cake filled with fudge icing and vanilla crème.
This was the moment. He needed to know about their baby. What they’d made together without even trying.
“Eli—”
He cut her off with a kiss.
It was agoodkiss.
An after-sex,he’s-still-inside-mekiss.
She wanted to lay like this with him forever, but he had to know. “Eli—”
