“That I want what I can’t have,” he admitted. “And I’m taking what I shouldn’t.”
The world seemed to turn topsy-turvy at this. Somehow, she forced his gaze to meet the deep depths of her brown eyes.
“Why can’t you have me?” she asked.
“There are reasons.” He paused, his gaze still stuck to hers. “But I just decided that none of them matter.”
He didn’t share the reasons because his mouth moved to hers and he picked up right where they left off.
“You should know that therewerea lot of reasons,” he said, breaking the kiss long enough to unbutton his shirt. “I just can’t think of any right now.” He pulled the undershirt over his head and returned to her. “Give me an hour and I’ll remember.”
“An hour, huh?” She toyed with the hair at his ears because…well…she could. “That’s a little ambitious.”
He did a very niceChaturangapress-up over the top of her, holding himself there.
“An hour is only the beginning. I just decided.” His mouth moved to hers and there was definite tongue happening. More than he’d used outside. Because, apparently, outside, he’d held back.
Inside, now?
He was a force.
Also, superb at getting her undressed while still kissing her. She barely had to do anything but lift her hips and let him work his Jack magic. There wasn’t even an opportunity to show him her flexibility—the one unique thing she could bring to the bedroom.
He held her head right where he wanted her, kissing the bejeezus right out of her. Frantic. This was frantic. In a good way. Like they were both going to ignite if they didn’t get undressed, and she would combust if he wasn’t inside her in five, four, three, two—
He dealt with the condom as she parted her thighs to allow him entrance, a little disappointed they were going to end up in missionary when she hadn’t even given Kitty’s forward bend a shot.
She paused momentarily.
No, she absolutely did not want her first time postdivorce to be missionary.
Taking over the kiss, Jack released his grip on control, passing it to her when her mouth and hands and body demanded. She rolled him to his back.
He went willingly, seemingly with no issue handing her the reins.
The power of control was brilliant. Better than she’d ever imagined. Reveling in it, she let her inner vixen run free and straddled him, holding his erection in her hand to slide him inside inch by inch.
His eyes rolled and his hands gripped the blankets as she made it all the way to the base. Frankly, her eyes rolled, too.
His hands found her hips, and he made groaning noises that may as well have been a gold medal in the April sexual Olympics. So she moved, spurred on by her pleasure and his encouragement.
And then.
She got brazen.
Adding in a backbend as he was still inside her, because she could. All that practice, all that flexibility had to be good for something. She held her hands at his knees. Then he moved inside her. The balance precarious, but the feeling more than anything she’d ever experienced.
Her internal muscles clenched around him as he moved.
And she breathed.
“Holy hell,” he said on a groan. “April…”
Her name on his lips sent her over the edge, an orgasm rippling through her.
He followed without hesitation. Pulling her to him and kissing the living daylights out of her. There was kissing—so much kissing. Panting and…was he petting her? He was totally petting her. Running his hand along her hair, down her arm, tangling his fingers with hers.
“That was… Holy hell…” He paused his invasion of her mouth to hold her head to the groove of his neck. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
