She felt his hot breath on her most intimate area a scant second before his tongue rasped against her. She let out a cry as her entire body arched off the couch. Pressing his hands against her thighs, he held her in place as he did exactly what he’d promised: licked, buried his face, and, undoubtedly, savored every drop of the experience. Lord knew she was.
Too much so, because he’d barely found his rhythm before her orgasm swamped her, shooting sparks from her core to every single nerve ending in her body.
“Oh God,” she said, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him away so she could look at him. The stubble on his face glistened, and his eyes were so dilated they were practically black.
“Inside me,” she said on a gasp. “I need you.”
“Your wish is my—shit. Hang on.” He bolted from the couch and hurried over to his luggage, flipped it open and unzipped his toiletry bag and then breathed an audible sigh when he extracted a condom.
Camila almost laughed, but she was too busy clenching her internal muscles, enjoying the aftershocks of her orgasm, and desperately wishing he’d hurry the hell up so that he could hopefully stroke one more out of her.
And then he was back, naked, all those spectacular muscles bared for her visual pleasure. Including that one between his thighs, which he’d already wrapped and was grasping with one hand while guiding it toward her opening.
She widened her legs even farther and watched as he slid his erection through the wetness gathered there, coating himself, building her anticipation until she once again began to pant.
He bent over her, slamming his mouth against hers. She tasted herself on his tongue and wrapped her arms around his back, smoothing her hands over all those hard, bunched muscles.
With a thrust of his hips, he pushed into her, swallowing her gasp as the pleasurable sensation zapped through her body.
The pace was urgent, desperate, and she clung to him as another climax began to twist around her core, curling tighter and tighter. He didn’t stop, didn’t change his rhythm, even as he grunted and muttered something about coming with him.
Oh yes, she most certainly wanted to go with him. Wherever the hell he wanted to go. Just so long as he didn’t stop until—
“Ohmigod!” Her body bowed as her inner muscles squeezed and orgasm number two stormed through her.
“Yes,” he said, his teeth clenched. He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and pressed the other into the couch cushions, his legs scrabbling for purchase as he clung to her and increased the pace until he went rigid and she felt his cock pulsing inside her as he found his own release.
He dropped his head to her chest, breathing heavily. She wondered if her rapidly beating heart was banging against his sweat-coated brow.
After a few moments, he pulled out and rolled onto his side next to her. “Damn.”
“Yeah,” she replied.
He chuckled. “Glad we’re on the same page about this.”
“Oh, we definitely are.”
He reached over his head, snagged a couple of tissues from the box there, and pulled off and then tied the condom before wrapping it in the Kleenex.
“Here,” she said. “I need to go to the bathroom, so I’ll throw it away.”
“Thanks,” he said and then wrapped it in a third tissue before handing it to her. When she bent to scoop her dress off the floor, he added, “Don’t get dressed. I want to snuggle for a bit. Naked.” He waggled his brows, and she laughed.
And yeah, she didn’t get dressed.
Chapter Eleven
A knee ground into the inside of Tommy’s leg, way, way too close to the boys. He shot instantly awake, instinctively curling his body away from that dangerous, knobby bit of bone, except it was attached to a woman, and when he moved, she went with him since she was sprawled on top of him.
Oh yeah, Camila. Last night.
Oh man, last night…
Despite the near miss, Mr. Happy immediately inflated, eagerly anticipating more of a workout. Did Camila like morning sex? Because Tommy liked whatever she liked.
Morning.
He opened his eyes. Freddy stood next to the couch, tail wagging. The dog stretched his neck, and Tommy turned away to avoid a direct hit from the animal’s tongue and then winced as bright sunlight spilled across his face. He’d forgotten to close the curtains last night because Camila had climbed into his lap and proceeded to make all his dreams come true.
The lady in question was lying on top of him, her palms pressed to his chest, eyes wide as she stared at him. Her curls were mussed, her face still rosy, and she was gloriously buck naked.
“Someone’s coming,” she whispered, and now he knew why she’d come so close to rendering him unable to repeat last night. She was supposed to have gotten up and gone to her own bed at some point in the wee hours, but they’d both fallen asleep. And now they were lying together on the couch in his parents’ family room, the sheets twisted around their legs, their clothes in various piles on the floor, and if they didn’t do something quick, his mom—because that’s surely who was coming down the stairs—would catch them and then there would be assumptions made that what they’d done last night meant so much more than they were both probably ready to acknowledge.
If Mom caught them and started up with her “great match” bit, would it scare off Camila? Would she immediately run away, back to her apartment? Not only potentially back to her stalker, but also out of Tommy’s life.
He wasn’t ready for that to happen. Not by a long shot.
He sat up and deposited her on the couch, even though he’d much rather wrap his
