I put my mouth at her center.
The sound she makes goes straight through me. This time I do slow down. I keep my mouth soft, learning her, working out where her thighs tighten and where her breathing shifts.
She puts her hand in my hair, not guiding, just holding on. I press two fingers inside her, curl them forward, find the spot that breaks off her breathing mid-exhale, and I work both at once, fingers curling in a steady rhythm while my tongue circles her clit in slow tight strokes. She starts rocking against mymouth. Her thighs close around my head. I feel her getting closer in the way her body tightens on my fingers and the way her sounds are coming shorter now, less controlled, more urgent.
I flatten my tongue, press in harder and she comes apart completely, thighs shaking, hand gripping my hair, a low broken sound punching out of her that I feel in the whole length of my spine.
I stay through all of it. Then I stand.
My jacket is somewhere on the floor. I reach into the inside pocket and find my wallet. Thank God, there's a condom there. I send a prayer to the same God that it’s still good, because it has been a while.
I roll it on while she looks at me with those big brown eyes full of lust.
I step back between her thighs. She's still catching her breath, her hair fully loose now, dark against her shoulders. Her hands are braced on the desk behind her. She looks at me and I look at her.
I push inside her.
We both go still.
I don't move. I'm not ready to.
Her arms come around my neck and her forehead moves forward until it's touching mine. I can feel her breathing against my mouth. Long and slow, hers and mine, settling into the same rhythm.
I've been keeping my distance from this woman for weeks. Carefully, deliberately, without making it a thing. I knew that if it got here it would be more than I was prepared for. I was right.
She's got her face turned slightly into the side of my neck and I can feel every breath she takes, every small shift, and I am not in any hurry for this to be over. In here it's just this. Her and me. Connected.
She shifts her weight forward. Just a fraction. Just closer.
Her lips brush the side of my neck.
"Carter." A whisper. "Please..."
I begin to move.
Slow at first. Watching her face. She keeps her eyes on mine and I keep mine on hers pulling her closer on every stroke. The sound she makes each time is something I'm going to carry around for a while. I find the depth that makes her breath hitch and I stay there. Build it. She starts moving with me, tilting her hips to meet each thrust, and my hands grip her waist tighter.
I push deeper. Her head tips back. I press my mouth to her throat and feel the sound she makes more than hear it.
I lose the measured pace. My hands on her hips, pulling her into each stroke. Her arms tight around my shoulders, her face against my neck, short urgent sounds breaking against my skin with every movement. I brace one hand on the desk behind her for leverage and I give her everything, deeper and harder, until she's gasping and clutching at my back and saying my name in a way that has nothing controlled in it.
She tightens around me. I feel her start to come before she makes a sound. Then she does, her whole body going rigid, hands gripping, a low broken noise into my shoulder, and I follow her over it a few strokes later with my forehead pressed against her neck.
My breathing slows. Hers does too. I can feel it in the rise and fall of her chest against mine.
Neither of us moves.
23
SIENNA
The road is uneven here. I feel every dip through the seat, through the thin denim of my jeans, through skin that still remembers his hands.
Carter drives with both hands on the wheel. The window on my side is cracked and the air coming in smells like eucalyptus and dry heat. I watch the hills. I watch my own hands in my lap. I look anywhere that isn't him, because looking at him right now feels like standing too close to something hot.
We haven't said anything since we left the hotel.
I've been thinking about what happened since we straightened ourselves in the office.
