The Summer He Came Home (Bad Boys of Crystal Lake 1)

She didn’t finish. Because she couldn’t speak. In one thrust he was deep inside her. Stretching her open as he slid in and then paused. She trembled with anticipation as the heat of her passion thrummed through her body. It was electrifying, wonderful, and totally hot.

“I knew it,” he whispered against her back.

She could only nod. There were no words.

“I knew you’d feel like heaven.”

Cain moved slowly in and out, and each pass sent shock waves of pleasure rippling along her skin. She was on fire, her belly was tight, and the pressure that built inside once more was unlike anything she’d experienced.

It was intense and biting and painfully exquisite all at once.

His breaths fell rapidly—she heard them like hard bursts of energy—and he lifted her hips into the air, held her at a different angle as he increased his rhythm.

“Damn, woman, but you were made for me.”

His words thrilled her, and she cried out as the pressure inside gripped her hard. There was no noise—save for whimpers of pleasure, the creaking of he

r bed, and the sound of flesh on flesh. His strokes were firm, controlled, and when he upped the rhythm, she was right there with him. They came together in a shattering orgasm that left her weak, breathless, and completely done.

They collapsed back onto the bed, his heart pounding at her back, a melody that was in sync with her own. Cain’s arms never left her. He pulled her into his embrace, and she rolled onto her side and tucked her head into his chest.

She didn’t want this feeling to go away, to fade into memory as if it had never happened, so she closed her eyes and visualized every moment that she could, every touch and sound and smell.

Silence enveloped them in long, gentle waves. She listened to his heart, traced the hard ridges of his abs, and didn’t know what to say. There were no words to describe how she felt. Satisfied, content…they didn’t cut it.

“Are you all right?”

Maggie nodded. She wasn’t sure she could speak just yet.

“You’re one hell of a woman, Maggie.” His hand was gentle as he traced the line of her hip and stayed there in a possessive caress. She loved the feel of it. Of him beside her. Of his scent in her nostrils. She loved the ache between her thighs, the one that spoke of loving and of belonging.

“So beautiful,” he continued. Cain nuzzled the side of her neck, and the hand on her hip gripped a little harder. He paused and stretched his body so that he could reach over the bed.

He fumbled for something, and her eyes ate up the beautiful lines of his body hungrily. He was hard again, and already an answering ache stirred within her.

When Cain turned back to her, he grinned and held up a small package in his hand. The look on his face was a cross between that of a boy on Christmas morning and a man about to take what he wanted.

Her mouth went dry, and her belly did that little flip she’d grown accustomed to. His desire was raw and echoed what she felt inside.

“What’s that?” Her voice was throaty, seductive.

His grin was wicked. “It’s a condom ring thing. A vibrating condom ring.”

Okay, she wasn’t expecting that. “Oh. I’ve never…”

He peeled the wrapper back and winked. “Me neither”—he leaned toward her—“but I’m thinking we’re going to like it.”

Chapter 21

Sunlight filtered through her bedroom window, casting thin beams of gold against the drab gray walls. They mimicked the pattern of Maggie’s cheap window coverings, missing slats and all. The blinds were crap, but for the most part they did their job.

Cain was next to her, and she relished the warmth of his body. He was relaxed with one of his arms thrown over his head, legs sprawled wide. He appeared younger as he slept, softer. It was amazing, really, how his features aligned perfectly. God, she could spend hours just looking at him. He was simply beautiful.

Maggie’s back kinked and she moved slightly, a groan slipping from her lips as her body protested. Her muscles were stiff, and parts of her ached. A lot. Those parts of her. She giggled. It was a good pain, but nonetheless a glaring reminder of her lack of experience and the fact that she hadn’t been intimate in a very, very long time.

A blush stained her cheeks as her mind wandered. Oh, the things he’d done to her. The things she’d let him do to her. A smile crept along her mouth as she traced his chest, though it soon fled as reality set in.

She felt the weight of it, that reality, pressing on her chest. This wouldn’t last. How could it? He’d be leaving at some point this summer. The man lived in Los Angeles, and his career would call him back.