Jane Millionaire

Where was his wallet?

There. On the nightstand. Next to an ornamental bowl and pitcher.

Rolling from her, he removed the foil pouch and took care of protection. He positioned himself above her entrance and stared into her dazed eyes. Dazed, but fast returning from bliss to hungry passion.

She languidly nodded, begging with her eyes for him to make them one.

He thrust inside.

And drowned.

Drowned on the emotions that flooded through him. Like a leaf crossing over Niagara Falls, he plummeted into unknown waters.

Ecstasy. Perfection. Heaven.

Alpha and Omega.

Everything. It all started and ended right here in this room with he and Jane. Where his body connected with hers.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, taking him deeper still. How she managed, he didn’t know because he was already lost inside her. Lost to everything but the woman rocking the foundations of his definition of sex, of life.

Skin to skin. Body to body. He plundered her field of roses, relishing each new blossom he encountered as he sank deeper and deeper under her spell.

He was in major trouble.

Sex had never been like this.

“Rob.” Her thighs quivered around him, and all rational thought disappeared. Loving her, driving her wild with frenzied desire took precedence over everything.

“Tell me, Jane,” he grated between clenched teeth, barely containing his need to pound her violently, uncontrollably, instinctively. “Tell me what you want.”

Chapter Twelve

Jane? Somewhere in the recesses of her hazy mind, the wrong name registered.

“Jill. Call me Jill,” she reminded.

“Jill.” Guilt briefly flickered across his face, but his conquering of her body didn’t pause. Thank God. She’d probably almost blown it by asking him to call her Jill, but she didn’t want to hear another woman’s name on his lips while he was inside her, making love to her. Even if she was supposedly the other woman.

If she only had the one night, it would be her night.

Sex had never been this good. Chocolate for breakfast wasn’t this good.

Searching to see if he felt the same magic that coursed through her body, she met Rob’s gaze. Perspiration dampened his hair, slicked his skin. His wide shoulders bunched into tight muscles. He held his upper body off her, as he pumped deeper and deeper. His pulse throbbed erratically in his neck, assuring that he was just as moved by their lovemaking.

She twined her fingers into his dark hair and tugged him to her, smashing her mouth desperately to his. She lifted her hips to meet him, thrust for heavenly thrust.

His entire body hardened to a blade of steel, his muscles contracted, his abdomen rigid, his hips poised above hers.

“Jill.” It was all he said, before his determined control snapped. She caught his strangled cry with her mouth as he hammered into her, hot flesh slapping against hot flesh. Heat, tension built until she imploded into hot lava. A fire that started where her skin touched his and spiraled in liquid, pulsating waves to her very core.

“Rob,” she practically screamed. Her fingers clasped his hair, twisting, pulling him closer. “Now Rob. Now.”

His body pummeled her with his climatic release.

“Jill,” he growled before collapsing onto her, his breathing ragged and his heart racing against her chest.

Oh yes. This was what it was all about. All the hoopla about sex. Finally she knew.