Her words destroyed any hope of teasing her into fulfilment before taking her. He was so close it was a miracle he’d lasted this long.
Conall moved back, kissing his way to her waist, briefly exploring the whorl of her navel before peppering kisses down to the damp, silky hair between her thighs. One too-brief caress there and he rose from the bed, moving stiff-legged to the bedside table for a condom.
He had to pause a moment, and then another, the weight of her gaze on his groin threatening to tip him over the edge.
‘What are you waiting for?’
He shot her a look that was part exasperation with himself and her for driving him to his limits. When he finally found his voice it was to speak through gritted teeth. ‘Making sure I don’t self-combust, trying to put on a condom.’
Her snicker of delight tugged his lips into a smile despite the extremity of his situation. He’d always loved her laugh. ‘You won’t be laughing if I spill here rather than in you.’
And damn him if she didn’t conjure a pout that slammed his body right back to the edge.
Conall closed his eyes, blotting out the image of those full lips. In his head he began going over some of the points he wanted clarified on the Singapore deal. His ordinarily sharp brain was fuzzy and his thoughts strayed but eventually he hauled himself back enough to put on protection. It felt like a miracle of determination over instinct.
After one swift survey of her lying there, he yanked his attention to her face. Her laughter had died, replaced by the same tense eagerness he felt.
He climbed onto the bed, but instead of covering her body with his, he lay on his side, sliding one arm under her head. ‘Roll towards me.’
‘Onto my side?’ She looked confused but complied, and he palmed her hip, stroking down to lift her thigh over his. ‘Ah.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve been lying here wanting you but I didn’t want to wake you.’
Greer hitched herself higher up the bed, her breasts brushing his chest, and he shuddered.
‘You like that?’ Her expression told him she’d done it deliberately.
‘You know I do.’ Conall delved his free hand between them, knuckles caressing her clitoris, and she gasped. ‘Do that again.’
She pushed closer and now there was no time for teasing or patient seduction. She was so wet between the legs and he had about twenty seconds before he came apart.
It was like coming home as she opened for him, so slick and tight already he felt the warning prickle begin at his nape and race down his spine. By the time he was seated as far as he could go, the sensation was coiling in his groin.
Conall drowned in the mesmerising depths of her eyes. But he couldn’t go alone. He needed her with him.
As he pulled back he found that sensitive nub where her nerves centred, and pressed down as he nipped her ear and began telling her some of the ways he wanted to please her.
By his second surge forward, her breath was a harsh rasp of arousal, her fingers digging into his buttocks to draw him to her as if she didn’t trust him to find his way.
Another retreat and surge, and then, just as he feared his body would betray him, Conall felt the change in her. Sharp breaths and the delicious twitch of muscles around him.
‘Come for me, Greer. I’ve got you.’
His arm tightened around her back as his thumb circled and he grazed his teeth along her neck.
Her quivers became a hard rhythmic pulsing that shattered him completely.
Conall flung his head back, shouting his release. He tumbled her onto her back and drove home hard and quick and so desperately there was no finesse, only an urgency that broke out from some primal part of him he’d never known.
Dimly he was aware of her legs wrapped around him, her fingernails digging into him. Then she lifted her hips and he shuddered, bucking out of control.
He felt a sting near his collarbone that shot fire through his veins but he didn’t have the energy to open his eyes. He could only finish mating.
For that was what this was, he realised as their movements eventually slowed. He nestled his head in the scented crook of her shoulder, only just remembering to take most of his weight on one hip and elbow.
That hadn’t been making love. It had been too desperate, too profound. Too visceral.
His lungs laboured as shock gripped him. He’d taken her as if nothing else mattered, driven by forces older and more primitive than thought or even pleasure. Though there’d been pleasure, so profound it felt like he’d burnt off superficial layers and been reduced to the very essence of himself.
