Five. Instead of turning into the bedroom, he stopped, pushing me gently so that my back hit the wall.
"I like this," he murmured, drawing a hand down the front of my chest, his thumb and pinky finger brushing the lace of my bra with deliberation.
"Then let's take it off," I suggested, reaching for the closure, ready for fast, rough movements, gripping hands and sucking lips.
He smiled. "Whoa, how about you let me do that?"
I huffed and dropped my hands. But instead of reaching for me, he undid his belt, pulling it from his pants and letting it drop with a noisy clank on his floor. I shivered at the sound, and his grin was wolfish, all white flashing teeth and predatory eyes.
"Feeling restless, are we?"
Over my shoulder, I glanced into the bedroom that was darkening slowly as the sun started disappearing in the sky. The bed was big, and I wanted to feel it against my back, Tucker spread over top of me like a blanket.
"Yes." I hooked a thumb in that direction. "Let's go in there, please."
"Impatient Girl," he said, dipping his head to suck at my neck. I arched into the contact and felt a sudden rush of pleasure at the thought of him marking my neck.
My hands traversed the hot skin over his chest and stomach and arms, memorizing muscles and bones, all the hills and valleys that made up his powerful body. Tucker wasn't a gym rat, there was no perfect stack of squares that made up a six-pack, but what he had was so, so much better in my mind.
It was something innate, something about him that was strong and natural and perfect. His biceps, shoulders, and pecs curved with strength, the flat planes of his stomach begged me to trace them with my tongue, and I had every intention of doing so when he was all laid out in front of me like a gift.
"Go lay on the bed," I told him.
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "What if I want you to go lay on the bed?"
I whipped off my bra, and he swallowed audibly. "Tucker," I said.
"Huh?" He was staring at my breasts, his hand coming up to cup the weight of one. My knees trembled, but I kept my voice firm.
"Go lay on the bed, then you can touch all you like."
So good at listening, he was, tugging my hand and rushing us into the room as I laughed. Only letting go of me to tug his pants; I did the same, shucking my shorts off and kicking them away from my feet. He turned and pinned me with a look so charged, so heated, that it was hard to stand.
Tucker spread his arms wide. "How would you like me?" he asked.
With two hands, I pushed him backward, climbing over him as he fell with a shocked laugh.
His palms skimmed up my sides, my hips, my back. Mine spread wide across his chest, and we kissed deeply, not deeply enough. My hair fell around our faces, and he pushed it out of the way, fisting it loosely as I rocked over him.
No part of him went untouched as I sat over him, my bare legs bracketing his strong thighs. He groaned when I used my mouth on his stomach and lower, a hiss and a tightening of his hand in my hair when I brought him too close to the edge.
"Not yet," he begged, tugging me up so that he could take my mouth again. "I want to go with you this first time."
He turned us with a quick flip, and I wrapped my arms around his neck while he rolled his hips against mine. I was surrounded entirely, nothing else I could see except Tucker, nothing else that I could feel or taste or smell.
On my back, with my knees tucked up against his sides, it was his turn to use his lips and teeth and tongue on me, first torturing me across the sensitive skin of my breasts as I clutched his head to me with demanding force. He nipped at my ribs under my skin, and kissed the edge of my hipbone, kissing a straight line to the other side before he pried my thighs wide and settled his broad shoulders in between in my legs.
I cried out loudly at the feel of him feasting, my hands gripping the sheets in tight fists as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of my inner thighs.
"Tucker," I warned breathlessly. He pulled back and yanked open a drawer in the nightstand, the telltale crinkle of foil came next.
His eyes were practically black as he levered up over me and braced a hand next to my head. He looked dark and foreboding as a storm cloud, and I wanted him to unleash all that force onto me. I wanted the boom and roll of thunder and the sharp crack of lightning, I wanted it all, but only if I could have it with him.
"You are perfect," he whispered, taking my mouth in a deep kiss as he pushed forward, forward, forward. Retreat and thrust, again and again and again, until I braced a hand on the headboard and took everything he had for me and met him with lifts of my hips, clutching hands, and whispered pleas for more.
I had to grit my teeth against the rolling, violent rise inside of my body, because I wasn't ready for it to be over, I wanted to live here, exist in this space with him for the rest of my life.
His forehead braced against mine, he chased after that feeling with the strength of his body, the unrelenting, perfect rhythm until I struggled to hold it at bay. Our breath met in harsh pants and he growled into my shoulder, increasing speed, increasing strength until I was stretched tight over the precipice, my skin splitting at the seams.
"Grace, Grace, Grace," he chanted, and made one harsh, painful snap of his hips.
I flew apart with
