“Make love in a bathtub?”
Ella shakes her head. “No, but I like that, too. What I’ve really wanted is to be on top. You’re always so in control of me during sex. I wanted to, um…return the favor.”
As she sinks down to the hilt, her breath becomes a long moan. I hiss between my teeth at the bliss of having her wrapped around me, her flesh swollen after her recent peak, yet eager for more. I take her by the hips and guide her back up my aching cock.
I need her. And I need her now.
“Not so fast.” She stops me, grinding down on my length. “It’s my turn.”
I think of all the times I’ve teased and tormented her, dragging out her pleasure, denying her orgasm, holding her just outside the rea
ch of the sensation that would send her toppling into the abyss of satisfaction. I’m sure if she has the chance, she’ll repay me.
The water sloshes as she rises up, then sinks back down, one protracted inch at a time, awakening every one of my nerve endings to the feel of her encasing me and the ecstasy to come. Yeah, she’s going to undo me thoroughly, and I’m okay with that—eventually.
But I’m not going down easily or alone.
I tug on her shoulders and send her toppling against me before cradling a breast and lifting it to my mouth. “Then ride me.”
She does as I torment her nipples, gently sucking, nipping, gnawing until I know she’s feeling me. Her skin turns rosy again. Her pussy tightens. Her pace quickens.
“Carson…” Her protest is almost a mewl. She wriggles like the ache is growing too much too fast.
“Sweetheart?” When she doesn’t say anything for a long moment, I wonder if it’s because she can’t string her thoughts together…or if she’s plotting something. “Let me help you.”
“No.” She shakes her head as she thrusts down on me again, this time a bit faster. Water splashes around us, the displacement growing with every movement. “No.”
Since she’s panting her denial, I grip her hips. “But I insist.”
Then I bend my knees, brace my feet on the bottom of the tub, and shove my way up inside her, owning her tight depths, plunging deeper than I’ve ever been. My cock nudges the spot along her inner wall that I worked with my fingers. It should be hypersensitive now.
“Oh, my god.” Her eyes flash wide and she looks at me, mouth gaping in astonishment. “Yes!”
Ella wails out her assent as she grabs my shoulders, fingernails digging into my skin, forearms braced on my chest.
I repeat the motion, fucking her thoroughly from beneath. In the next thrust, she joins the rhythm. Her whole body falls into it—head tossed back, hips flowing with me. After another roll through the water together, we’re in sync and scaling our way to mutual satisfaction. I don’t care about the water spilling onto the tile floor. I don’t care that my neighbors might be hearing the loud, high-pitched sounds of her need pinging throughout the room. I only give a damn about her and giving her the most pleasure possible. I can’t deepen our commitment when I’m technically engaged to someone else, but I can drench her in orgasmic bliss. I can use my body as an expression of my devotion.
We move with common purpose wordlessly, linked by our need. I imagine an alternate universe where I’m free of Gregory Shaw and my obligation to marry Kendra. Where I’ve slid a ring on Ella’s finger and we’ve spoken sweet, solemn vows. I’ve come home from work, and she’s spent the day doing whatever makes her happy and contributes to her dream coming true. We’re settled and ready for the future, and I’m not wearing this damn strangling condom because we’re eager to start the next generation, fueled by the love and passion filling us now.
That, and her breasts bouncing near my mouth, is all it takes for me to zoom up to the zenith of pleasure. I manage to catch her nipple between my lips and suckle it until she’s hissing and crying out and clamping down, heading for completion. As the feeling picks up steam, I fight through a haze of desire to keep plying her with sensation.
This is going to fucking ruin me.
“I’m close,” I growl.
“Me, too,” she keens out. “I’m there. I…” Her strangled scream of satisfaction swallows the rest.
I bury my face against her skin as the need converges into a thick knot of desperate ache. When I slam up inside Ella with the next thrust, it unravels. I lose all control. We collide again as the rapture takes over. I empty my body, soul, and heart into this woman in a way I never have. I suspect I never will again.
I’m still panting and holding her close when that realization smacks me witless, along with the dawning recognition that I’m in love for the first—and last—time in my life.
I have no idea what to do next.
“Wow,” she manages to murmur weakly as she pushes the hair away from her face.
“Wow.” I’m still winded and sweating and bowled over.
She looks over the edge of the tub. “The floor is soaked. I’ll get some towels.”
When she makes to disconnect our bodies and rise, I hold her fast against me. “Just a minute.”
Ella settles against me and meets my gaze, gnawing on her bottom lip. “Everything’s changed, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “And yet nothing has.”
“I love you.” She kisses me softly, with an air of mourning.
She knows we’re on a countdown to goodbye unless something drastic changes or one of us gives up everything we hold dear.
Still, logic doesn’t stop me from telling her exactly how I feel. “I love you, too.”
“I wish I knew how to fix our mess,” she says almost absently, knowing neither of us can, yet believing deep down there must be a solution because the world can’t be that unfair.
I’m already sure it can be.
“Me, too, sweetheart. We have about two weeks to figure it out. Maybe it’s time for a really honest conversation about what we both can live with…and can’t live without.”
Ella wriggles free and rises from the tub in another splash, gleaming beautifully in the warm overhead light. “We have and it still looks hopeless.”
Wrapping a towel around herself, she avoids looking at me. Tears well in her eyes. I want to hold her more than anything. I want to be a part of the solution.
But I already know I’m the problem. I’ve created this. Somehow, I’ll have to fix it.
Chapter Seven
ELLA
Saturday dawns lazily. Carson and I spent the night in each other’s arms, talking, kissing, making love. I don’t think we ever slept, merely dozed for short stretches until the need to be close woke us again.
With a sleepy smile, I stretch, languid bliss filling every muscle from the tips of my fingers to the bottoms of my toes. Beside me, Carson snores lightly. Sunlight streams through his bedroom window, the sun appearing high in the sky. I glance at the clock and blink. How is it almost noon?
After a quick brush of my teeth and a shower, I step out of the stall, dripping and surprisingly refreshed—if sore—when I hear a pounding on the door. I stick my head out of the bathroom to see Carson rising, disoriented, and reaching for his robe with a scowl.
“Are you expecting anyone?”
He shakes his head as he belts his robe around his middle. “I usually get some quiet work done on weekends while vegging on my sofa. No one ever interrupts my weekends.”
I shrug. I don’t have any idea who could possibly be demanding admittance.
With a curse, he exits the bedroom. “Wait here.”
After he shuts the door behind him, I hurry into a pair of shorts and a tank top. Summer in the South is no joke. Today promises to be another scorcher. I toss my hair into a ponytail, then creep across the bedroom, pressing my ear to the door, hoping to hear what’s going on in the living room. I can make out two men’s garbled voices.
Carson might have told me to wait, but I’m desperately curious. And I need coffee.
When I crack open the door, I see him pouring himself a mug, and Gregory Shaw, of all people, is watching him from a stool at the breakfast bar, sipping on his own cup of brew. When I step into the room, they both turn at the sound of my entrance.