Briggs (Carolina Reapers 7)

He dipped his hands beneath the water, tracing a line of sparks over my back and settling on my hips. “I want you to, Bristol,” he said, thrusting upward, high enough that his hard length slipped between my thighs.

I trembled from the tease, my grip on his shoulders tightening.

“I want you to be right so badly,” he practically growled, thrusting up again while capturing my mouth.

I opened for him, moaning as his tongue slipped between my lips. God, I loved this man. Every word, every touch, was electric. Charged. A spark ready to burst.

I would prove him wrong. I would show him that our love was strong enough to survive any distance. Because what could space do to the kind of connection that sparked and sizzled between us? A connection so strong and so fierce even four years hadn’t been able to dull it.

“Fuck,” he hissed as I rolled my hips, the water making me glide hot and wet over his cock. “Duchess, we need to get out.”

I shifted, gripping the edge of the tub behind him. “Why?” I rolled my hips again, the head of his cock slipping inside me just an inch before sliding out.

He groaned, his fingers on my hips flexing. “Because my condoms are over there.” He motioned with his head toward the nightstand across the room. “And because I have to be on the road within an hour.” His grip on my hips tightened, and I bit my bottom lip.

“Would you stay?” I asked, my entire body buzzing with the need for him. “You don’t have morning ice until ten, and I know you wanted to get back tonight, but you could stay. There is a flight out of Albany that would put us in the city by eight-thirty.” It was selfish to ask, but it would be literal weeks before I saw him again. Of course, I wanted a few more hours.

“You want me to stay?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

I rocked against him, my heart racing with each of his growls, each catch of his breath. I ached and pulsed with each tease. “I always want you to stay,” I said. “And I want you now, Cormac,” I moaned before slanting my mouth over his. “Here,” I said against his lips.

“Goddamn,” he growled.

“You know I haven’t been with anyone but you in over a year,” I hurried to add. “And I’m on birth control.” I rolled my hips again. “But we can get out—”

He captured my lips with his, one hand sinking into my hair so he could kiss me harder, deeper. “Here,” he said. “Now.”

I sighed between his lips, gasping as his chest pressed against my breasts as he shifted closer. I broke our kiss, keeping my eyes firmly on his as I moved, slowly sinking atop him. Taking him into the hilt.

He leaned his head back, watching me as I moved on him. His hands exploring every available inch of my body—palming my breasts, flicking my nipples only to soothe the small, delicious hurt.

The water added a whole new level of sensations with each move, the heat ratcheting up so much I was sure I’d combust.

“Cormac,” I moaned when he moved from my breasts to my ass, gripping it and upping my pace on his own. I crashed against him again and again, winding up until every muscle was so tight it almost hurt.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he whispered, accentuating his words with unforgiving kisses that stole my breath.

“God, Cormac, you…that…do that again!” I demanded, loving the way he filled me so much I could barely breathe or think around the sensation. He gripped me harder, thrusting up as I sank down, hitting that spot deep inside me that had each thread of my soul unraveling.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Duchess,” he growled, pumping into me while I rode him harder, faster.

Water sloshed over the edges of the tub, but I didn’t care, couldn’t care. Cormac’s words, his lips, his body…he was using it all to keep me suspended on that sharp, brilliant edge. Just on the cusp of explosion.

And that was him completely.

An incredibly beautiful, agonizingly torturous, delicious piece of stretched-out pleasure. And he knew that, had always known that. But me? I was the match to his fire, the explosion to his bomb, the conduit to his lightning strike. And when we collided together?

It was fucking brilliant.

I rocked against him harder, using the edge of the bathtub for leverage, taking control until all he could do was lean back and watch me fuck him.

And from the wild look in his eyes?

He loved it.

Loved me.

“Cormac,” I moaned, each move tightening my body like a string. “I love you.”

He slipped his hands over my hips, gripping my thighs, sliding up them until he found where we connected. “Say it again,” he demanded, and a thrill of anticipation rushed through the center of me at the demand in his voice.