Emergency Engagement (Love Emergency 1)

cupped her jaw and tipped her face up. His chest scraped her overstimulated nipples for a torturous moment before his pecs settled on her breasts. Determined lips covered hers, parted them wide while his tongue whipped hers into submission, and then stroked a hot, wandering path through every unprotected recess, persuasive and demanding at the same time. When he suddenly abandoned the kiss, shock forced her eyes open, and she promptly fell into his.

He shot her a tight-lipped grin. “I’m about to give you your third orgasm of the night. That calls for a little eye contact. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’re going to say my name before it’s over.”

Was that all he wanted? No problem. “My name.”

Chapter Twelve

Beau couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed while an orgasm bore down on him like the wrath of God. Then Savannah rocked her hips, grazing his balls with the underside of her ass, and annihilated all the restraint he had left. His laughter died in his throat. He thrust again, and again, racing toward relief with an urgency that left zero room for artful fucking. No more teasing shifts in tempo, no clit-thrilling flourishes, just a driving need to pound them both into oblivion as quickly as possible.

She bucked under him, tensed her legs, and arched up as the orgasm gripped her. Her whole body clamped around him, vibrating with the strain.

Every fiber in him screamed to move, to surge, to do whatever it took to feel her tight embrace along the length of his shaft.

Wait. Wait for it…

She arched higher, taking him infinitesimally deeper, and froze. Her voice cracked as she cried his name, and ended in a long, thankful moan. He reveled in the triumph for half a second, but then those fluttering muscles squeezed his cock and took him down, too. A steep, hard fall even longer and more brutal than the first.

“Sweet mercy, I can’t feel my limbs,” a breathless voice said from somewhere near his ear.

Him either, now that she mentioned it, but he put his weight on them anyway, because otherwise he was crushing her. He pried his eyelids open as he levered himself off, but stopped short at the sight of flushed, feminine satisfaction lying in boneless disarray on the table.

Her eyelids fluttered open. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“I am.” Because he couldn’t resist, he slowly lowered his chest to hers and placed a quick, hard kiss on her mouth. Then he reached down between their bodies to pinch the base of his cock and hold the condom in place while he…oh shit.

No condom. The oversight never entered his mind until now. He’d only had unprotected sex with one woman in his life, and they’d had a daughter together. Granted, they’d planned on conceiving and given the whole endeavor plenty of enthusiastic effort, but the point was, he wasn’t shooting blanks.

Fuck. He eased out and glanced at Savannah. She stretched, smiled, and then held out her tangled wrists to him. “Can you do the honors?”

As soon as he freed her hands and pointed out he’d jumped her without taking any precautions, she’d probably deck him. And he deserved it. He untwisted the bra straps from around her wrists, then the shirt, and offered them to her, along with a hand to help her sit up. “We”—he broke off and cleared his throat—“that is, I, neglected to use protection. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Her smile faded, and her glow dimmed a little. “I’m sure we’re okay. I’m on the pill for contraception, I’m healthy, and in the past I’ve always used a condom.”

Relief washed through him. He wallowed in it for a moment before his conscience reminded him to return the favor. “Me, too. Healthy, I mean. I’m not on the pill.”

She patted his hand. “I’ve got you covered.” Her words came easily, but she looked away and started pulling on her clothes. He tucked himself into his briefs, fastened his jeans, and crouched to pick up her jeans and underwear from the floor where he’d tossed them.

She gave him a perfunctory smile as she took the clothes, and then focused her attention on getting dressed. “To what do I owe the visit? Based on the lack of preparation, I have to assume you didn’t come here for this.” She hitched up her jeans and then waved a hand over her pelvis.

Her careless question didn’t fool him, and his reason for coming could wait. He stepped close, cupped her jaw, and kissed her pursed lips, sucking and nibbling until they softened. She let out a low sigh and brushed her fingertips along the short hair at the back of his neck. After a moment he drew away and rested his forehead on hers. “The apology was strictly for forgetting to use protection. If you need an apology for the rest of it, I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

She laughed. “No. You’re three-for-three. I’d be insulted if you apologized. I hope you’re not expecting one, either. I know we agreed not to complicate things.”

“And we haven’t. Not really,” he added when she would have interrupted, but a cynical voice in the back of his mind wondered which one of them he was trying to convince. “You’re leaving in a month. The mandatory expiration date eliminates any possible complications. We both know where this ends.”

“Venice. Italian prince. Half-dozen bambinos and happily ever after?” She tipped her head and shook out her hair.

“Right.” He picked up the UPS envelope from beneath the table where it had fallen and offered it to her, but for some idiotic reason a vision of her riding along the Amalfi Coast in a convertible with the wind in her hair and some slick Italian dude at her side made his gut clench.

She took the envelope, tore the tab open, and pulled out an itinerary. “Looks like this ends at 11:30 a.m. on January first.”

He ignored the uptick in his heartbeat. “That gives you plenty of time.”

Dark blonde brows arched. “Plenty of time for what?”

“Plenty of time to test my average.”

…