“You sure this is what you want to do?”
“I am. I do.”
He looks down at me, his hands cupping my face. The kiss he gives me is sweet and quick, his lips barely skating across mine. I lift up, chasing his mouth with mine, and he chuckles. Bastard. Stupid, fucking, wonderful, not-mine bastard.
“You got it.” He comes down over me, planting his knees on either side of my hips. We’re face-to-face, but his mouth is too far away from mine. The handful of inches separating us is wider than the Grand Canyon.
I tug on his T-shirt. “Get naked.”
“As you wish.” His grin flashes in the darkness.
He looks happier now that the waterworks have dried up and we’re back on familiar ground. And me? I want whatever he’ll give me, which likely makes me pathetic. I need his skin on mine, nothing between us. He sits back, hauling the shirt over his head, and I watch his big hands work.
The shirt hits the floor, leaving him bare-chested. God, I love his chest. It’s all sexy muscles and tempting ridges that ripple with power as he twists to consider his boots. Yeah. Those boots are a problem.
“Be right back.” He brushes another kiss over my mouth and then rolls off me. He makes short work of stripping off the rest of his clothes and then he removes mine. He drops carefully back down on top of me.
I spread my legs, making room for him, and wrap my arms around him. And for a moment I hang on. I let myself forget that eventually we’ll get up and go about our lives and I won’t get to keep him.
“In.” I reach between us, going straight for his dick.
His forehead creases. “Condom would be a good idea, babe.”
“I’m on the pill.” Since condoms are only 75 percent effective, I’m on the pill. Still, we’ve always used a condom. I’ve never given him the go-ahead to take me bare. I want to be his first for something.
He hesitates. “Let me touch you.”
“Now,” I insist. I don’t want foreplay, not tonight. I don’t want him to drive me any crazier for him. I just want to feel connected to him.
He pushes slowly inside me and I can feel my body opening for him. I don’t think we’ve ever gone slow, and yet it’s so good like this. Quieter, softer, but still good. Instead of chasing my orgasm, I just feel him becoming part of me. I feel his thrusts become deeper and harder, his hips slapping softly against mine as he grunts something that might be my name. I think he needs this, too.
“I love you.” The words slip out of my mouth, and I don’t hold them back. I need to say them. I need him to hear me.
“Harper.” He freezes above me.
“I love you.” It’s the least I can say, and it doesn’t feel like enough. Or too much because he’s shaking his head.
“You don’t love me. You love this.”
And then he leans down and kisses me, cutting off the words. His kiss is rough and wet, raw and carnal. His teeth nip, demanding I open up, and then he thrusts inside my mouth, his tongue fucking me to the rhythm of his dick. He rolls, pulling me on top of him so that I’m riding him, his dick shoved deep inside me. Big hands cup my butt, working me against him in a dirty, sexy rhythm. I brace my hands on his chest, leaning down into him, because he’s the only solid thing in my universe now, and then he gives it to me hard.
He slams up into me where I’m tight and hot and aching for him, making me gasp as he pushes inside until he bottoms out and there’s no more room. I tighten around him, holding on. He doesn’t get to leave me. Not yet.
He pulls back. Thrusts into me again.
Heat and fire explode through me, my body going ballistic. It loves dirty sex. It loves this man. He pinches my clit, his devilish fingers circling and teasing until I can’t hold back any longer. He’s watching me when I come, and because he may own my heart but he doesn’t own my mouth or my head or anything else other than that stupid, stupid organ, I tell him the truth he can’t fuck out of me.
“I love you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Vik
WHAT THE FUCK does Harper mean?
I love you.
We had a deal and nowhere in our discussion of friends with benefits and sexy hookups was love mentioned. The whole faux boyfriend/girlfriend was just to make my old man happy. But right now my dick’s in control, and he wants to come, so come we do. I hammer into the sweet, slick pussy clenching around me, and try not to think. The tightness in my balls is all the feeling I need, fuck her very much.
She was looking for a long-term guy. I helped her scope out dates. I practically gave her away. Goddamn it.
I’m balls-deep in her and she’s stripped away more than just the condom. I have no idea what to do next, so I make her come. I touch and tease until she stops shouting I love you and makes those cute but indecipherable whimpering noises that herald her orgasm. And afterward, I may sort of pull her close. I mean, we’ve reestablished our boundaries, right? When she said those words, it was probably just the sex talking. Or hormones. Pheromones. Something.
She rests her cheek against my chest, breathing hard. I probably qualify for bastard of the year, if we’re being honest. She cried, and I fucked her. Cowgirl style. The only feelings allowed here are of the orgasmic, blissful kind. I know I’m an idiot
