The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

“Yes,” he moans. “Fuck yes.” His grip becomes tighter.

I close my eyes as I begin to moan. Fuck . . . how many times can the female body come in one night? This is insane.

“Anderson,” he growls as I lose focus. “Fuck me.”

“Ohh,” I murmur as I stare down at the gorgeous man beneath me. His hair is hanging messily over his forehead, his eyes are dark, and his face is alive with satisfaction. This is his element.

Sex is his thing.

There’s a reason the name Tristan fucking Miles came to me. It was a premonition.

The fucking wasn’t silent; it was a verb.

He flips us so that I am on my back. He lifts my legs and puts them over his shoulders and then comes face to face with me.

And we stop still as we stare at each other.

His body is deep inside of mine; the burn of his rough possession holds me captive.

He smiles softly, and my stomach flutters.

Don’t look at me like that.

“Kiss me,” he breathes. “I need you to kiss me.”

I close my eyes to block him out, because damn. This isn’t what this is about.

I need some distance between us—this is too much. Too intense, too personal.

Too . . . intimate.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

I drag them open.

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

“Tris,” I whisper, close to the edge of insanity.

“It’s all right, baby.” He pushes the hair back from my forehead. “I’ve got you.”

My eyes search his. I feel my resistance leave, and as if he senses the exact moment that I hand over my power, his lips take mine.

We kiss for a long time. His tongue swipes through my mouth, mirroring the thrusts of his hips.

He begins to moan—long, satisfied deep breaths—and my head is thrown back into the pillow. “Fuck, Claire . . . this is so fucking good.”

My mouth falls open, and I shudder hard as a freight train of an orgasm rips through me.

His eyes roll back in his head, and then he straightens his arms and widens his legs and slams in deep. He tips his head back and cries out. I feel the telling jerk of his cock as he comes again.

I turn my head to the side to get away. Damn it, he’s under my skin, and I need to get him off.

“Hey,” he says.

I keep my face to the side as I pant. Tears threaten.

I’m completely overwhelmed.