Pure fucking pleasure.
He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her neck because, Christ, he needed a second to compose himself before he attempted logical conversation. She ran her fingers up and down his back, and it felt good. Too damn good. What the hell just happened here? It felt like…like…he’d lost a piece of himself, and yet gained another in its place.
It made no sense…
And yet it did.
“Wow,” Shelby breathed, her hands freezing on his back. “That was…”
“Yeah,” he said when she didn’t finish. He couldn’t think of a single word in the English language that would describe what just happened, either. Pulling back, he looked down at her, taking in her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and crazy hair that he’d given her when he took her to bed. He wanted to do it again. “Shit.”
Her brow furrowed. “What?”
“I’m still hungry,” he admitted.
Her lips twitched, and she skimmed her fingers down his arm, making his still hard cock harden even more as she rocked her hips up, taking him in even deeper than he’d been. “Me, too.”
And then she kissed him.
If he’d died and gone to heaven…
Then may he rest in peace in Shelby’s arms for all eternity.
Chapter Twelve
“And we look forward to speaking with you about the possibilities our town might hold for you. If you could call us back at—” Shelby scribbled the number down, biting her lip as she did so. The message ended, and she hung up, her heart pounding against her ribs.
It was happening.
It was finally happening…
The night after she had sex with Eric Hamilton.
She glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the man who slumbered in her bed. Last night, they’d had sex countless times, and she’d barely slept at all, and yet she was more energized than she’d been in…well…ever. Being with Eric like that, having him bring her to orgasm over and over again, had been life changing. She’d only been with two other guys her whole life, so she’d never known what she was missing between the sheets until now.
Until Eric.
He was a god.
Even now, after a night filled with mind-numbing pleasure so intense she half suspected she’d died and gone to heaven, her body throbbed for another taste.
He was addictive.
If she didn’t watch herself, she just might get hooked.
He stirred, stretching and letting out a yawn. His hard chest flexed with each move, and she stared at him, her mouth watering because she knew exactly what his crisp chest hair felt like under her hands, the way his mouth felt against her as he drove her wild, and how frigging good he was at making her scream for more even when she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
She wasn’t sure how to talk to him now that they’d done things to each other she’d only dreamed about alone in her bed for years. His eyes fluttered open and locked on her. When he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in her hand, he frowned. “Shit. What time is it?”
“Eight—”
“Fuck,” he said, rolling out of the bed in one fluid, naked, hot motion. He stepped into his boxers, the veins in his arms sticking out. “I have a meeting at nine. Can you be ready to go in ten minutes?”
“I don’t have to be in until ten.” She stood, hugging herself, dressed in the oversize T-shirt she’d thrown on when she woke up. “I’ll ride the bus in.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, holding his pants in his hand.
“Absolutely.” She wiggled her phone. “I have to make a call before I go in to the courthouse, anyway.”