He moans as I rub a thumb over the velvety tip of him, his breath becoming ragged as I stroke him up and down. He’s long and thick, which, if you think about it, is just plain unfair to the rest of the male population. Not only does this guy have the face, the fame, the talent…he’s also got a lot going on below the waist.
He wraps his fingers around my wrist, drawing my hand away as he gives me a quick kiss. “I’ve waited too damn long for this to do it standing up in tepid bathwater.”
“Too long being, what, a couple of weeks?” I ask as he wraps a towel around me, finds the bath drain, and then grabs another towel for himself. “How long do you usually have to wait?”
He grins down at me. “You really want to know?”
I open my mouth, then shut it, realizing that I absolutely do not want to think about Gage Barrett naked with anyone besides me.
But when he scoops me up and carries me to the bed, I’m not thinking about any other women, or about his reputation as a playboy.
I’m thinking about him, and how as long as I live, I will never forget how right this moment feels.
His fingers flick open the knot of my towel, spreading the sides and exposing my naked body to his gaze. His eyes smolder dark green when they meet mine.
I expect him to drop his own towel and join me on the bed, and I’ve never wanted anything so badly as his body on mine—in mine.
But he proves me wrong by giving me something every bit as good.
Gage drops to his knees at the side of the bed, pulls me to the edge, and without preamble buries his face between my legs.
One of his hands finds my thigh, pushing my legs apart while the other slides a finger inside me. Truth be told, I’ve never really gotten this part of sex—I mean, it’s always been fine, but I thought it was overrated. But when it’s Gage’s dark head, Gage’s tongue…I get it. I so get it.
He adds another finger as his mouth opens over me, his tongue doing clever things to clever places and making me see stars.
“Wait,” I say on a breath, trying to tug his hair. “I’m close—”
“Again,” he murmurs, looking up my body and catching my eye. “Come again.”
His tongue finds and licks the exact right spot, and I do exactly as he commands, not caring that the entire hotel can probably hear my cries, not caring that I’m probably pulling his hair too hard.
I’m still trying to remember how to breathe when he moves, pressing a kiss to my stomach and standing.
With impatient movements, he stalks to a table in the corner, rummaging around shopping bags that weren’t there before I got in the bath until he comes up with a box of condoms.
I scoot back a bit to the middle of the bed, managing a breathless laugh as he tears open the box and comes back to the bed. “That’s what was on your shopping list?”
I expect him to tease back, but Gage is past teasing. He tears open the wrapper with his teeth, rolls on the condom.
A second later, my hands are pinned above my head, his green eyes locked on mine.
There’s one perfect moment of stillness, of want.
Then he thrusts inside me, and I gasp, realizing now why he gave me two orgasms. He needed me wet and compliant, needed my body ready for his. Gage isn’t gentle, and he isn’t careful, and my God is it good.
I’ve never been taken like this, never felt so female to someone else’s male, never wanted someone else’s pleasure even more than I want my own.
I want to touch him, need to be closer. His hand still pins my wrists to the bed, so I wrap my legs around his waist. “More,” I beg.
He growls and pounds harder, the slap of our bodies mingling with the rasp of our breathing. I’ve never had a third orgasm in my life, but I have it now, and I have it hard.
The moment I cry out and my body clenches around his, he lets go with a groan, his big body bucking as he goes over the cliff with me.
His face buries in my shoulder, and I think I hear him say my name, although it’s hard to hear anything over the pounding of my heart.
Here’s the gentleness, I realize as he gathers my shaking body to his, an arm sliding beneath my head, the other moving soothingly over my side.
We say nothing for long moments, and although I’m grateful for the chance to gather my thoughts, I’m also afraid.