New and…Improved? & Andrew in Excess

At his erotically rough voice, she obeyed, and with his gaze he let her see everything he was feeling. He tugged her robe and bra down to her elbows so that her arms lay trapped at her side. “Do you know you’re my every fantasy lying there like that?” he whispered, bending over her, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his eyes full of heat and desire. “Your bedroom eyes, your creamy skin-” A fingertip skimmed over a nipple and she gripped fistfuls of the bedding beneath her, biting her lips to keep from shamelessly crying out. “You want me, don’t you?” His fingers continued to touch her. “Not just an orgasm, not just fun and adventure, but me? ”

“Yes!” she gasped.

“Then tell me,” he murmured, dipping his head to drag his tongue over her quivering skin. “Tell me you believe I find every part of you beautiful. Inside and out.”

She wanted him now, right now. It took little effort for her to wrap her legs around his hips, to rock the neediest part of her over the neediest part of him.

He went completely still, letting out a low groan at her touch. “Becca.” Now he made the rocking motion, sliding his huge erection over her wet, throbbing flesh. “Dammit, tell me now or this is no good.”

He meant it, she could see the agony in his eyes, swirling there amid the hunger and passion. His muscles were tense and trembling, he was hot and hard and dying with need, but still, he would leave if she didn’t acknowledge his words.

He thought she was beautiful.

She so wanted to believe that, but the small doubt couldn’t be erased. She’d practically forced him into this.

And yet, for this moment, for right now, she wanted so badly to suspend reality and tell him what he wanted to hear. Struggling free of her shirt, she slid her arms around his neck. “I believe you,” she whispered.

Above her he was shaking with the effort to hold back, but at her words, he kissed her.

His fingers slid beneath her panties. He stroked her until she was shuddering before he tugged them down and off. Again he kissed her breasts, each of them, slowly, thoroughly, while his fingers traced their way back up her thighs and between. When he sank a finger inside her, she arched off the bed and whimpered his name before he slid his body down, dragging his mouth over her belly, to her hip. With his fingers playing over her, she could do nothing but toss her head on the pillow as he stroked, pressed and caressed, dragging out her tension until she was poised, trembling, dying… Then he shifted and his mouth was hovering over her, hovering, hovering.

“Oh, please,” she whispered. “Kent, please.”

He said her name once before running his tongue over her hot center. She exploded instantly. Shattered. Shuddered. And slowly came back to herself, and him.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She’d never been so okay in her life. “I think…that’s a fairly safe assessment.”

He reared up on his knees and smiled wickedly. “Let’s make sure.” He slid off her robe, then watched her with a hot, fierce expression as he retrieved a foil packet from his pocket.

She gasped at the sight of him, silky smooth and throbbing, and he let out a groaning laugh, his fingers fumbling as he protected them both.

“Now,” she demanded, pulling him close.

“Yes, now.” Dragging her hips to meet his, he thrust into her, letting out a hoarse groan. He felt it, too, she realized dimly, this incredible connection. She could see it in the strain of his beautiful face as he concentrated so intently on her.

Slowly he pulled back, only to thrust again. And again. Then again. She couldn’t keep still, she had to help, had to rock her hips, had to sink her fingers into his sleek back. Things went from wild to off-the-scale urgent then, and she couldn’t stifle her cry as he sent her over the edge once more. Hands in her hair, he bent, tenderness and heat in his gaze as he took her mouth.

From deep within her, the tremors began yet again, and this time when she convulsed around him, he flung back his head and followed her over the edge, her name on his lips.

“WOW.”

Against her neck she felt him smile. “We’re still alive, then?” he asked hoarsely.

“I’m still breathing.” Barely.

He stretched, groaned, then lifted his head and gave her a smile so sexy, so satisfied and male, it made her toes curl. He kissed her softly, and then again, not so softly. “In that case, I’ll move when I can feel my legs.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m heavy.”

He was and she loved it, so much so that when he tried to lift himself off of her, she held him tight. “No.” Her muscles clenched around him.

Arousing heat sparked in his misty eyes. “If you do that again-” He groaned when she did. “Yeah, that. I won’t be going anywhere.”

“Aren’t you…tired?” she asked politely, her hands sliding through his silky hair.

He shifted between her thighs, proving just how “tired” he wasn’t. “You feel so good,” he murmured.

Her heart caught, quickened, then soared as he moved inside her, in slow, long strokes. “Again?” he whispered, dipping his mouth to hers.

“Please.”

And it was even better than before.

BECCA FELT TINGLY, relaxed and so full of joy she couldn’t stand it. She could hear Kent in the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water. Nearly dancing, she bent for his shirt, which lay crumpled on the floor. It smelled heavenly, and she inhaled deeply because she couldn’t get enough of him.

She felt absurdly happy, and silly too, standing completely naked with his shirt pressed to her nose. She slipped it on over her head. Because she was still hopelessly giddy, she grinned at herself in the mirror over her dresser.

Then frowned.

She was a sight, and not a good one. Her makeup was all over her face, her hair such a wild mess it should be considered a national disaster. Embarrassed, yet unable to tear her gaze away, she went completely still.

She looked like the wicked witch of the east.

No, like Bozo the Clown.

She had lipstick smeared across one cheek, eye shadow on her forehead. She had black rims of mascara under her eyes.

And yet Kent had looked into these eyes and called her beautiful. But that had been before he’d finished. Now that he was done, he was in the kitchen.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t been able to escape fast enough.

He was already sorry, she figured, already wondering how to leave. In fact, he was probably staring at the front door in panic. Well, what had she expected? She had no one to blame for this heart-ache but herself.

Feeling numb, she went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet to wash her face. Not waiting for the water to warm, she started scrubbing. As she did, only one thought raced through her mind, and she couldn’t get away from it.

They’d just made love; bone-dissolving, earth-shattering love. They’d moved as one, their hearts and souls had beat in rhythm.

Somewhere along the way, no doubt far before today, she had tumbled hopelessly in love with him. And it was a permanent kind of love.

Unfortunately, she’d let herself forget, Kent didn’t do “permanent.”

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