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“Yes. You’re a little broody, but you’re just so damn appealing. All I want to do is spend a little time with you.”

The words soothed his aching soul like a balm. No one had wanted to spend time with him lately. Not even himself.

The corners of her eyes crinkled. “But only if you promise to show me a really good time.”

Chapter 25

“This won’t end well,” he said, sitting up against the headboard, more to himself than to her.

It won’t end well at all. But she leaned over him regardless. “We still don’t have condoms.”

He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. “Found some in the back of the bathroom drawer.”

“Ah. Problem solved.” She grinned.

Something soft flooded his features and for a moment, he just stared at her, like she’d reminded him of something he’d long forgotten. Then he flashed her a smile. A full-on smile. Sure, that one lazy corner of his mouth didn’t move, but it reached his eyes and transformed his face, and did something warm to her heart.

His fingers slid into her hair, angling her face, and he kissed her, urgent and reverent at once. She already knew the man could kiss. Could do all sorts of things with his tongue, his fingers, his hands. But this… He left her breathless and wanting, gripping at his shoulders hard enough for her fingers to ache.

Don’t go.

His words had kept her from leaving. He needed sleep. It was already late, and she knew his head would hurt in the morning, but he wanted her there regardless. She wanted this too. They had secrets between them—things she couldn’t say, and things he wouldn’t. But it didn’t matter. One night with him before reality intruded.

His beard scraped across her skin as he dragged his mouth to her cheek, her temple. “I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to think about you every waking moment. The scent of your skin, marshmallows and orange blossoms. I can’t stay away. Can’t be in the same house and not need you. Can’t be in the same country and not crave you.” He caught her throat, his hold careful. “I hate how much I want you.”

“Then do something about it.”

He snarled like an animal that had finally snapped its tethers, gripping her top and shredding it in one motion. The sound she made wasn’t quite a shriek, and then he was on her, his mouth at hers, his hands running over her like she belonged to him.

Sliding lower, he tore away her shorts and pressed his mouth to her. Firelight danced across the room, illuminating him there—between her legs, dark hair falling forward, one strong arm wrapped around her thigh. Dipping his head, he brushed an open-mouthed kiss across the most vulnerable part of her.

“Yes?” He kept his eyes down when he asked, and as much as she wanted to see his face, firelight was everywhere and she understood.

Sliding her hands into his hair, she let her legs fall open wider. “Yes.”

That was all he needed, parting her with his thumbs, dragging his tongue across her in one smooth stroke that curled her toes into the mattress.

“More.”

“Bossy.” The word was a velvet compliment, his huff of laughter hot against her wet flesh.

He reined in the urgency, slowed, savoring her with long, steady strokes. When he found a spot that made her gasp, he lingered before exploring further, adjusting the pressure, the rhythm, as if intent on committing every sound, every broken breath, every inch of her to memory. When her gasps turned into moans, he’d pull back, settle her with soft kisses, his tongue tracing the sensitive crease where leg met hip, blowing cool air on the trail of freckles there.

Tightening her grip, she dragged him to her clit. “Please, Oliver.”

She felt his satisfaction in the way he smiled against her, moving his tongue in slow circles like they had all night—hell, all week. Unhurried, he coaxed her higher, until she was shaking. “Oliver.”

But he didn’t rush, his mouth steady and languid against her, until she clawed at his hair and lifted into him in maddening frustration.

“Tell me you want to come.”

She couldn’t form the words, just a whimper, but it was enough. He ran the flat of his tongue over her, building the pressure until her spine bowed and she came in shudder after shudder against his mouth. He gentled but didn’t lift from her, waiting until the last of her trembles faded and she was so boneless she could have slipped through the mattress and straight to the floor.

His low murmur of appreciation buzzed through her. He trailed a string of stinging kisses along her inner thigh. “Your freckles are like a treasure map. They lead me just where I want to go.”

His fingers followed where his mouth had been, sinking into her, withdrawing, until her hips were lifting into him, and he was stroking that place inside her that made her vision go white. She went wild… the pressure too much, too good, more, yes—

Her body tightened, milking his fingers, and still he didn’t stop, nipping at her inner thigh, her hip, letting her catch her breath just long enough before revving her up again. She caught his wrist. “Enough. I need you.”