She stroked his temple, loving being able to touch him so intimately. He didn’t stir, so she bent forward and whispered in his ear. ‘Ethan, wake up. You’re going to get so uncomfortable.’
Okay, she was uncomfortable. It wasn’t that his lying on her like this hurt, but it was hot. All she wanted was for him to wake up and play. But he was blissfully asleep and she couldn’t bring herself to try harder to rouse him—especially because doubt niggled that he might not want what she wanted when he woke.
She changed the TV to a music station and lowered the volume. She rested her head on the big cushions and stroked his head, trying to match her breathing to his so she’d get to be as calm and rested as he was.
‘Nadia?’
‘Mmm?’ Nadia sighed, lost in a really great dream.
‘Nadia?’
She roused, realising that the voice was real and very amused and very near. She looked down at the heavy, warm weight in her lap.
‘This is good.’ He smiled. The flickering light from the TV made his eyes twinkle too. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘You were too heavy to move to bed.’
‘You wanted me in your bed?’ He shifted, rolling to face towards her tummy.
Her muscles weakened. ‘Uh…um …’
‘I’ve missed you.’ His words were muffled, but still she heard the rawness. He pressed his face close to her, sliding his hands up her thighs, under the loose cotton of her boxer shorts.
Nadia shivered, half trying to suppress her tremoring nerves, but her body had lit with the lightest of touches and those few words. His hands caressed, and she couldn’t help relaxing, slightly spreading her knees wider so his fingers slid higher still. She swallowed, barely able to control her breathing, high on anticipation. Oh, she wanted his touch there—all the way there.
For a moment there was nothing else—just fingertips caressing skin, slowly taking the path already on fire for him. He suddenly lifted his head and looked around the room behind them.
‘What is it?’ She looked up to see what was catching his attention.
‘I’m looking for the treadmill,’ he teased. ‘You must have been exercising while I was sleeping. Your blood is pumping hot.’
In lifting his head up he’d made way for his fingers to surf even higher—which she guessed was the whole point. So Nadia just spread her legs wider.
‘You’ve been lying with your head in my lap for the last five hours.’ Her panting mutter wasn’t as saucy as she’d intended. ‘I’m on fire.’
‘Oh, so it’s me making you this hot?’ He lay down on her again. ‘You like me this close?’
She smiled back—oh, so saucy now. ‘I’d like it better if you were awake and I was naked.’
‘Well, I am awake—but you don’t need to be naked.’ His touches went further, softer, teasing. One hand went north, sliding under her shirt, cupping her breasts, stroking her hard nipples. ‘No bra, no knickers,’ he groaned.
‘Boxers are knickers,’ she argued vaguely.
‘Loose,’ he murmured happily, his fingers pressing more firmly.
She pressed her head back on the sofa, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the ceiling. Her body was so hungry for him—all slippery and hot, welcoming the slide of his fingers, the rub of his thumb. She bit on her lip and suddenly pressed her knees close, trapping his hand as waves of pleasure contracted her muscles. It hit quick, hard, and it wasn’t enough.
‘Making you come is the ultimate turn-on,’ he muttered as he sat up. ‘And it’s so damn easy.’
Uh, yeah… Struggling to regain her breath, Nadia felt embarrassment rise. It was only easy because she was so insanely attracted to him. It was humiliating.
But then she noticed he was now standing, and basically ripping off his clothes.
‘What are you wearing?’ he asked.
Her humiliation faded as she heard how he snapped the question, saw how his hands were shaking as he fought to get a handful of condoms from his pocket. So he’d been prepared to come and see her?
She knelt up on the sofa and enjoyed the show. Her body was even warmer than before. The man had mus cles—everywhere—and they were all bunched. He glared at her tee shirt again. Had he only just noticed what it said?
‘It’s really offensive. Take it off.’ His jeans thudded to the floor. ‘Off, off, off,’ he demanded.
But before she could argue he issued another order.
‘Stand on the sofa.’
Nadia blinked. ‘Is this because I’m short?’
A muffled curse as he moved—fast, effortlessly—lifting her so she stood in front of him on the sofa. ‘No,’ he said curtly, whisking her tee shirt over her head and then her boxers to her ankles. ‘This is because I want to kiss you here.’ He licked her nipple and then sucked it into his mouth. ‘And then here.’ He moved, kissing down her sternum to her stomach.
‘Okay.’ Oh, more than okay. Oh, yes, yes, yes.
Between kisses he laughed—low, sexy—making her melt all the more. His hands dropped to her thighs and he pushed them apart. She shifted her feet to please him—only he kept pushing, and pushing, until she was standing with her feet as far apart as they would go. There was something about being bossed by him that was delicious. Her body was all soft and lax and malleable, while his was all hard and strong and ready to fire, and she couldn’t wait to find out how he was planning to do it.
So she stood on the sofa, her hands on his shoulders, while he stood before her, his feet on the floor. She could look him right in the eye—and his eyes were smiling. So she smiled too. His big hands held her thighs hard, keeping them wide but also giving her support. A good thing because when he suddenly thrust—all the way in—her knees buckled. She hooked her hands tighter round his neck and held on for sweet mercy. But there was no mercy—he was big, and his movements were powerful, relentless, and awesomely good.
Nadia moaned, loving the completion, the friction as their bodies slid—locking and unlocking. She thrust with him, their position incredibly decadent and abandoned, and she relished the hedonism. Every movement hit better than the last, so in seconds she was breathless and barely coping with the surging sensations. His pelvic bone ground against hers, rubbing deliciously against her bliss button, sending her faster still towards breakpoint. Her so-sensitive breasts were flattened against his solid chest—more fantastic friction.
But the thing short-circuiting her completely was the way they stood nose to nose and eye to eye. Unbearably intimate. He kissed her—little teasing kisses broken by the occasional lush, deep one. She could see his passion, the raw, unbridled desire. It was so intense she had to close her eyes against it. She couldn’t believe that all the fiery want in his gaze was for her.
‘Look at me,’ he growled. ‘Let me see.’ As he spoke he maintained his rhythm, driving her, knowing exactly what he was doing—how close she was. How moved she was—how much she wanted him. How good he made her feel—how much more he made her want.
And that was what he wanted—she knew. He wanted to see her hit orgasm. He wanted to miss nothing. He wanted all her secret wishes—and to know that he was the one who’d fulfilled them. And just that thought—that frightening, exhilarating thought—made her come all the quicker. Because it was him doing this to her.
Her body tautened, then convulsed as the waves tumbled over her—so powerful that for an instant she was scared. But then it was too good to think of anything but how incredible it was. She didn’t know if she cried out—all she could hear was the hiss of his satisfaction, the grit of his teeth as he held her through the rapturous storm and forced himself to stay that half-step behind her.
She sucked breaths in harder, unable to recover as he thrust more forcefully. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him so he couldn’t look away from her either. She half laughed, mostly cried with sensual delight, as she saw the signs of unbearable strain in his face—the clenched muscles, the veins popping in his neck, the pained, desp
erate look in eyes that suddenly widened, but were blinded as it swamped him.
‘Oh, yes,’ she sobbed. Her blood pulsed—in her lips, in her most intimate nerve centre—as the sight and feel of him, so tortured by her, sent her back to the pinnacle of ecstasy.
His movements went wild. His body jerked as he lost the fight against holding off. He shouted—a raw, masculine response—as release surged and the moment of ultimate pleasure was his. All she could do then was cling.
His hands shifted, clasping round her middle, and he held on to her tightly, his forehead pressing into her shoulder. She felt his harsh, ragged breathing gusting down her sweat-soaked skin. Her own breathing was irregular, her brain dizzy. Her legs were completely wobbly. So did was her heart.
‘Are you going to let me go?’ she asked, her voice woefully small.
‘No.’ With sheer brute strength he lifted her, sliding one hand under her legs so he could carry her more comfortably. Dexterously, between his third and fourth fingers, he scooped up another condom packet that had fallen on the edge of the sofa. ‘Which is your room?’
She directed him, and he walked with ridiculous ease. He placed her on the bed, but immediately followed with a smooth lunge. Taking the bulk of his weight on his elbows, he pressed his lower half firmly on hers—so she couldn’t escape.
‘Oh,’ she said, needing to strive for some kind of control in this shattering situation. ‘You want to be dominant?’
‘No,’ he breathed.
Nadia’s voice failed as she saw his burnt brown eyes had refilled with that passionate fire. He bent his head and kissed the last remaining brain cell out of her. His tongue swept into her mouth in gliding strokes, over and over, while his hands framed her face, holding her up to him—open. Yeah right he didn’t want to be dominant.
By the time he’d finished she was uncontrollably rocking her hips, grinding against him in a way that was desperate and hungry and unbelievably happy, running her hands up and down his slick, muscular back. He looked down with smug satisfaction as she panted and writhed beneath him.