Page 84 of On The Edge

And then with the sexiest groan I’ve ever heard—one that personifies restraint snapping in the best fucking way possible—Cruz rises to his knees and drives back into me.

Over and over.

Harder and harder.

Faster and faster.

Until it’s my name on his lips. Until it’s my body that he claims. Until it’s his orgasm that I give him.

And I don’t think he’s ever looked sexier.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Cruz

I stand in the shower, water pouring down my back, and my cock already growing hard again. Already wanting Maddix again.

Where the hell did that insatiable need come from and why the fuck was I fighting it for what feels like so goddamn long?

Normally I’d stroke myself. Give in to the need to come again so I could last even longer for her next time . . . but fuck if I’m going to be satisfied with my hand when I have goddamn perfection in the other room.

With a groan and the knowledge that the next time with her can’t come soon enough, I turn the shower off, scrub a towel through my hair, and pull on a pair of sweatpants.

But fuck if my cock doesn’t fly half-mast again the minute I walk out into the great room to see Maddix standing in my T-shirt, pouring us both a glass of wine.

How can I be turned on and want to sit down and just talk to her all at the same time?

“What?” she asks. Those green eyes look over toward me as I stand in the doorway, shoulder against the wall, hands shoved in the pockets of my sweats, and my feet bare.

“Nothing.” I shake my head and move toward her. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” She moves toward the couch and takes a seat. I catch the slightest of winces.

“You okay?”

She nods, her eyes averting from mine. “Just a little sore.” A smile turns up the corners of her lips as her eyes find mine. “And I’m not complaining about it.”

My flash of a grin is automatic. Nothing says a job done right better than the sweet ache of sex afterwards. “I’ll go easy on you next time.”

“Please. Don’t.” Her cheeks flush in embarrassment—it’s endearing—as she curls her legs against her chest and pulls my shirt over them and down to her ankles as she sips her wine. I can’t take my eyes off her. One, because my shirt doesn’t reach all the way to the couch and so every time she shifts, it shows me the curve of her ass and the hint of her bare pussy simply sitting there as a temptation to take again.

I sit on the arm of the couch opposite her and she offers me a shy smile. Jesus, it hits me right in the solar plexus. Her hair is mussed from my hands, and her lips are bare but pink from kissing me. How did I leave here a few days ago uncertain how this would all play out and return to this? To her? To what just happened? To my world being thoroughly rocked?

Thank you, Tessa.

“When you find your footing, Madds, you really find your footing. Watch out world.” She covers her face with her hand as her cheeks heat. “Nope. You don’t get to get all shy on me.” I take a sip. “You just played me like a fiddle. Right into your hands. You seduced me and I’m fucking glad you did.”

“I’ve got more in me where that came from.”

“Thank. Fucking. God. For. That.”

Maddix Hart before was beautiful. Beguiling. Sexy. This Maddix, with her fuck the world attitude, is a goddamn stunning knockout.

“I believe that is a compliment.”

“It is. A huge one.” I shift and sit on the cushion, unable to take my eyes off her or get the feel of her wrapped around me out of my head.

Is this what it feels like when you have to wait for something? Because if it is, fucking hell, the intensity makes it well worth it.