Page 83 of Hard Pass

My God.

“There you are, Trouble,” he murmurs, his lips meeting mine again. “You’re almost there.”

I tighten around him as he moves his fingers over and over and then . . . the orgasm slams into me. I knew it was coming but holy hell is it powerful. My back arches and my vision goes black as my climax roars through me, one wave after another.

Cole slides his hand up my chest to put his fingers on either side of my jaw and hold my head still as he kisses the panted breath out of me. His tongue does a slow delicious sweep of my mouth.

I pull him into me so I can lick that damn raindrop up the line of his throat and move my lips at his ear. “That was worth the wait. Now it’s your turn. Fuck me, Cole.”

His chuckle is a throaty seduction. He takes his fingers and sucks them, his tongue swirling around their tips as he tastes me on them.

“Fucking hell,” he groans as he repositions on his haunches between my thighs before reaching over and grabbing a condom. His eyes devour every inch of me as he rolls on the protection. From between my thighs to my breasts, stuttering over my mouth before he meets my eyes.

I’m spread shamelessly wide for him. His hands slide up my thighs as he lines his cock up and pushes into me in a slow, deliberate slide.

My mouth falls open. The stretch of him. The heat it causes. The sexy tremor that ripples through his body at that first deep thrust.

His groan is low and ragged and the sound vibrates through me. Our eyes meet and despite my head swimming with how damn good he feels, I’m capable of nodding. Of telling him I’m ready for him to lose himself in me.

And that nod is all it takes.

He begins to move. Slow at first so I can adjust, but within seconds the man sets a wild rhythm that robs me of thought and steals my breath. It’s driving, insistent, rough. He’s perfection looking down at me, how he feels inside me.

The way his fingertips dig into my thighs.

How his half-hooded eyes move from watching to where he’s fucking me to my eyes and then back again.

The way he grinds his hips with every push in so I feel him everywhere.

My orgasm builds. Every thrust sharpens the ache, and every moan shows my surrender.

My nails rake lines down his thighs, a silent plea for him to lose control.

To let me watch it and feel it and own it.

Just as I think that, my body ignites again—muscles pulsing, bliss swelling, body overwhelmed.

“Dublin,” he calls out as every muscle in his body tenses, his hips relentless.

The last thrusts are frantic—shuddering, uncoordinated and incredible—and then he collapses, his body falling on top of mine. The sound he makes is raw, and it’s followed by a dazed laugh, muffled against my collarbone.

Neither of us moves for a few minutes. There’s only the sound of rain thrumming against the windows, stuttering in time with the thud of Cole’s heartbeat against my chest.

We’re a mess, tangled and sweaty and satisfied. Sex-drugged and head hazy, I can only process one thought.

Yeah, that was definitely worth the wait.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Dublin

I wake slowly.

First to warmth. Then to weight. Then to the deep delicious ache low in my body. I know exactly where I am before I even open my eyes.

My breath catches. For one suspended second, before thought comes crashing back in, all I know is that I’m warm. Sated. Tangled in sheets that smell like Cole. Wrapped in heavy, boneless exhaustion that only comes from giving in completely.

Then reality arrives—harsh and merciless—and I open my eyes.