And then I’m laughing, because his radio holster digs into my hip and he’s muttering that he’s sorry. He removes the radio from his belt and sets it on the table, face up, because he’s on-call, and he’s the type of man who doesn’t let anything keep him from performing his duties.
And my God, it’s hot. And I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want this man. I kiss him, frenzied, trying to tell him with my mouth, with my body, how much I want him. How much Ineedhim.
I pull at the hem of his shirt and break the kiss long enough to say, “No more uniform. Take it off.”
Together, we strip off his shirt and fling it behind the desk, and then his hands are at the buttons of my shirt. He breaks the kiss and starts undoing the buttons of my shirt, taking his time witheach one. With each button, each newly exposed centimeter of flesh, the heat that’s building low in my belly grows.
Tate gets to the last button and pushes the fabric off my shoulders. He slowly unhooks my bra, letting it fall to the floor too. Then he juststares, taking in the view with dilated pupils. For a moment, I’m tempted to cross my arms, to hide my body from view. But before I can move, Tate’s hands are on my breasts, and then he’s tugging gently on my nipples and any chance for rational thought evaporates.
“You’re perfect,” he mutters. “Every fucking inch.”
His mouth finds my shoulder, the slope of my breast, unhurried, thorough, as his hands map my waist, my hips, my soft belly. He sucks one nipple into his mouth, working the other with his fingers. It feels better than anything in the world ever has, and I gasp his name, folding my fingers into his hair and holding his face to my flesh.
Before I realize it, he’s unbuttoned my pants and shoved them, along with my underwear, to the floor. He walks me backward to the narrow ranger bed and lays me down. I watch, mesmerized, as he strips off the rest of his clothes. When his hard cock springs free from his boxer briefs, I can’t help but lick my lips.
He notices. A moment later, he’s lying next to me in bed, exploring every curve of my body with his hands. I grip the head of his cock, and he moans, pushing my hand away.
“Don’t touch me yet,” he says, his voice raspy. “I won’t last long with your hands on me. For now, just let me pleasure you.”
He kisses me again but lets his hands roam down my body. He dips a finger inside me, then two, working me until I’ve soaked the comforter and am dying with need.
“Tate…” I moan.
“Yes?” he asks, a smile in his voice.
“I want you… I want to feel you inside me.”
He pumps his fingers into me again. “I am inside you, Neely.”
“No,” I protest. “I want you… your…”
“My what?” He presses his thumb against my clit, sending me over the edge. I grind against his hand, crying out my pleasure as my orgasm hits, hard and fast.
Tate watches me with hungry eyes, licking his fingers clean as I ride out the wave of my climax.
“You’re delicious,” Tate murmurs. “I think I’ll go down on you now.”
I want to protest, to tell him what I want—what Ineed—is to be fucked. Long, hard, right this second. But then his mouth is on me, and I can’t formulate words. Outside, I know the storm is raging, but I don’t even notice it. My brain can’t process anything but Tate’s hands on my hips, holding me in place as he sucks on my clit, sending me to the stratosphere once more.
And finally,finally,Tate settles himself between my legs.
"Still good?" he asks. Steady voice, wrecked eyes.
"Please, Tate. I want you.”
He takes a shaky breath. “I have a condom in my wallet. My pants are—” he gestures wildly to the other side of the room “—somewhere.”
And even though it’s irrational, and maybe a little irresponsible… even though I know this is just a fling, that it won’t—that it can’t—last… I don’t want anything between Tate’s body and mine. Not even a condom.
“Leave it,” I tell him.
He looks at me questioningly. “You mean…?”
“Don’t make me wait any longer, Tate. Please.”
He kisses me then, as he pushes into me slow, so very slow, allowing my walls to adjust to the size of him inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside me. He pins my arms above my head, lacing his fingers in mine and begins to move.
With each thrust, my hips rise to meet his. The storm crashes outside, but I can scarcely hear it over the sound of ourbodies slapping together. I’ve never felt this out of control, this desperate formore, thisconsumed.
