Wicked Secrets (Men of Discovery Island 3)

“Mia?”

“Yeah?” God. He moved his hand, the brush. Something. Nerve ends sprang to life in her breasts. They should definitely do more of this.

“I can stay tonight,” he said, gently reminding her of their limits. He’d be hers for tonight and possibly the next few weeks as well but, eventually, he’d go. She could work with that.

“Stay,” she said again, dragging his head down to hers.

“Can we borrow your bed?” He didn’t wait for an answer, swinging her up into his arms and heading for her bedroom.

“Too old for the floor?” She pushed the door open for him, and he took her straight inside, setting her down on her feet by the edge of the mattress.

“You have no idea,” he rasped, “what you do to me, do you?”

Nope, but she loved the husky groan he gave when he slid her shirt off. Since she hadn’t bothered with a bra, his move left her breasts bare. Her orange breasts. The paint from Tag’s brush had sunk through her tank top. She thought about possibilities for a moment and then decided she didn’t care if they got paint on the bed. She could always buy new sheets. She wanted him out of control and she wanted that now.

He ran his fingers over the paint-streaked tops of her breasts.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Not as gorgeous as you,” she said throatily.

“Men aren’t gorgeous.” He peeled her shorts and her panties down as he said it, stripping her bare for him. “I’d far rather look at you.”

“Hmm. You definitely are here.” She leaned in, pressing her mouth against the spot on his throat where his pulse beat out a sexy rhythm. Then she moved lower, pushing his shorts and his boxers down his legs.

“Hello. And most definitely here.” She wrapped her palm around him, and the taut muscles in his stomach jumped in happy anticipation. Since she still didn’t have him quite where she wanted him, she pushed him down onto the edge of the bed. “Can I have my wicked way with you?”

“Don’t let me stop you. Please.” She could hear the smile in his voice, so she dropped to her knees between his legs and took him in her mouth.

He groaned, the harsh, needy noise thrilling her. When she looked up at him through her lashes, he was watching her take him, and the raw desire on his face was almost as big of a turn-on as the feel of him. He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding on and making her feel powerful and sexy. Needed...

Good behavior definitely deserved a reward. She sucked her way up his thick shaft, swirling the point of her tongue over the spot just beneath the head.

“I’m happy to paint with you anytime,” he rasped.

“Good to know. I have a big house.” She smiled against him, then licked him.

Once. Twice. She cupped him, rubbing him with the palm of her hand where she couldn’t cover him with her mouth. The move earned her a sexy growl from her man, so she did it again, exploring every inch of him with her tongue.

He fell backward onto the bed, tugging her with him.

“Hey.” She nipped his ear. “I was busy.”

“I know,” he groaned. “But I’m not going to last much longer.”

Fine with her. Together they rolled on a condom, and then he was flipping her underneath him, pinning her to the mattress. Kissing her mouth, her throat, her ear as he fitted himself against her opening and pushed slowly in.

“Tag?”

“Right here,” he muttered, sinking in deeper.

Oh, yeah.

“I—” She forgot what she was trying to say because he kissed her some more, and then he moved. She panted and twisted, and someone who sounded a whole lot like her was chanting more more more in a hoarse, whimpering voice that might have embarrassed her if he hadn’t made her feel so good. But this was Tag. Her friend. Letting him know what she needed was okay.

He lifted her up, cupping her bottom, and she grabbed his butt. Their hips slammed together, and then it got loud and messy and perfect. He stroked deep inside her body, until they were skin on skin, hip to hip, her breasts squashed against his chest, his dog tags tickling her throat. The delicious friction built, pulling her slowly apart with the pleasure of it until she came, and he followed her over the edge.

Afterward, she lay there in a boneless heap by his side. He curved an arm around her and fished for the sheet with his foot. She was pretty sure the roof of her new cottage could have caved in, and she wouldn’t have cared.

“Wow.”

“Right there with you.” He cleared his throat but then said nothing more. How did anyone find words to describe what they’d just done? Instead, he just held her close, and his touch was even better than talking.