Harder. Faster.
But he wasn’t done yet. He seemed to need something from me, but God, I couldn’t think. I couldn’t do anything but feel.
“Now, Connor! Now!”
His face pulled tight. His jaw thrust forward, and his teeth flashed in the light.
He exploded. I felt the power of it, deep inside me. He ground down against me and gripped my hips like a vise. My climax continued, squeezing him as he pushed at my walls. And his face…God, what a sight.
Bliss. Pure, unadulterated beauty. Rapture in the lift of his chin, the parting of his lips, and the shimmering joy in his eyes as he held my gaze.
He was looking at me while his body climbed to the heavens. And I held on to him so he could take me there.
We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. Him in ecstasy, and me rippling with pleasure because he was inside me. Because he was still coming. Because he was Connor.
Eventually he stopped, his expression softening from the rigidity of rapture to the gentler planes of joy. His lips curved into a smile.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
“I’m amazing.”
“That’s true,” he said, smiling.
Then he pulled out, and I mourned the loss. He set my legs down, then he leaned over and pressed a kiss to my belly.
My muscles rippled in reaction, my stomach tightening in a flash of energy. He grinned at me. “I like making you move like that.”
He went to the bathroom and cleaned up. I lay on his bed and inhaled his scent from the sheet and my own skin. I felt languid and deliciously naked. Normally, I’d cover up after sex. I wasn’t the type to just lay there, exposing all my body flaws to a guy who’d just taken me to sexual heaven. And yet, I was doing exactly that.
He came out from the bathroom and grinned when he saw me. My eyes had been at half-mast, but at his smile, I perked up. And with it came self-consciousness. I stirred—slowly—and tried to close my legs.
He stopped me quickly, crossing the room with his characteristic speed. I didn’t even notice his limp, though something must have brought it to mind. Perhaps it was the way he grimaced as he sat down on the bed next to me.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
He hesitated as if thinking, then shrugged. “I’m ready for round two.”
He was hiding from me. Keeping his personal thoughts to himself. And after the intimacy we’d just shared, that felt like a slap to the face. He must have read my reaction. I’m sure my face tightened, and I finally managed to pull my legs together.
But he touched my shoulder and frowned at me. “Are you hurting?”
Yes. “No. I, uh…I’m just trying to gather my wits.”
“Don’t.”
I looked at him and decided to challenge him. “Then you don’t. Talk to me, Connor. What were you really thinking?”
He frowned and spoke slowly. “I was thinking that you’re beautiful. That I now have two times with you to remember. That I want to make it a third.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.
I did, too, but there was more to this man than catching baseballs and great sex. There was pain and defensiveness behind his eyes, and I wanted to know what had caused it. I wanted to heal him. And I wanted…
I looked away, feeling awkward and stupid. I was the smooth-talking publicist, but suddenly, I had nothing to say. I felt his hand stroke the hair from my cheek. It was an idle caress, but I felt it through my whole body. His heat, the callouses on his fingers, and even the occasional scrape of his nail. I was that sensitized to him.
“Gia, we can stop anytime you want,” he said. “You can even leave, and I won’t stop you.”
Leave? I wanted to crawl inside his life.
“But we said one night, and I’d rather not cut the time short.”
