I pulled back slightly, the corner of my lips rising. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Coleridge.”
He grinned, that roguish smile that made my desire go from blooming to blistering. “I’m hoping it’ll at least get me to the bedroom.”
I laughed, the sound quickly swallowed by another kiss. This one was deeper, hungrier, wetter. Eli’s hands roamed my body with practiced ease, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
As we stumbled toward his bedroom, shedding clothing along the way, I couldn’t deny how natural this felt. How right. Despite all my reservations, all my carefully constructed walls, Eli had somehow wormed his way past my defenses.
His touch was both tender and polished, focused entirely on my pleasure. Each caress, each kiss felt like a wordless promise. I mattered to him. This mattered.
“God, Jules,” Eli breathed, his eyes dark with desire. “You’re beautiful.”
“You’re not so bad yourself, beach bum.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating against my skin as he trailed kisses down my neck. “I aim to please.”
And please he did.
Eli’s lips trailed lower, kissing along my collarbone. His hands cupped my breasts gently, thumbs dancing over the soft skin. I gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch. He lowered his head, taking one peak into his mouth. The warm, wet heat of his tongue sent arcs of pleasure throughme. He concentrated on one breast, then the other, alternating between soft licks and gentle suction.
My fingers ruffled his hair, holding him close as waves of sensation washed over me. Eli’s touch was reverent yet hungry, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. His hands roamed lower, tracing the curves of my waist and hips. I shivered as his fingers skimmed along my inner thighs, teasing but not quite touching where I ached for him.
“Eli,” I breathed, my voice thick with need.
He looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Tell me what you want, Jules.”
“You,” I said simply. “I want you.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He kissed his way back up my body, capturing my mouth as his hot, thick shaft pressed between us. When I reached to stroke the velvety length of it, he pulled his hips back with a slight shake of his head. “No. Tonight is about you.”
Eli’s eyes never left mine as he reached for the nightstand, grabbing a condom. Finally breaking eye contact, he rolled it on. The sight was extremely erotic, just looking at how ready he was as moonlight spilled into the room.
With gentle care, he entered me slowly, drawing a moan from my lips. The feeling of him was exquisite, a delicious stretch that sent pulses of pleasure through my body. He stilled for a moment, giving me time to adjust, his forehead resting against mine.
“You feel amazing,” he murmured in a low, throaty voice.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “So do you.”
Eli began to move, setting a slow, steady rhythm that had me gasping with each thrust. His hands roamed my body, caressing and exploring as if memorizing every curve. Lifting, he pulled me up so we sat face-to-face, ourbodies flush against each other. The intimacy of the position, the depth of his gaze, was different. His fingers found my most sensitive spot, stroking with exquisite precision.
I clung to him, waves of pleasure building. “Yes! I’m so close.”
“I know. Me too. Let go, baby. I’ve got you.” We climbed together, breathing ragged, until the world shattered around us in repeated explosions of sensation.
Afterward, we lay together, a comfortable silence settling over us. My eyes drifted to his nightstand, catching sight of a familiar book cover.
“You’re almost done withJourney to the Center of the Earth?” I asked, noting the worn Sunset Siesta Dive Shop sticker he used as a bookmark.
Eli laughed quietly, his chest rumbling beneath my cheek. “I figured after finishingTwenty Thousand Leagues, I might as well keep the streak going. What can I say? Your namesake writes a pretty good book.”
I snorted. “I’m sure Jules Verne would be thrilled to hear that ringing endorsement.”
His brushed his fingers in slow sweeps down back. “Hey, from me? That’s high praise. I wasn’t much of a reader until I met you.”
The moment, the warmth of his touch, the vulnerability still lingering in the air, made me want to open up. “There’s a reason I connect with Jules Verne. Other than the name.”
Eli’s hand stilled. “Yeah?”
I took a deep breath. “When I was little, my dad… he wasn’t around much. Always on the road for his job. But every time he came home, he’d read me a chapter. Every night until he had to leave again.”
