Like You Love Me (Honey Creek 1)

We become a living, breathing, frenzied mess of movements. Our hands fly everywhere—undoing clasps, stepping out of pants, throwing fabric to one side or the other. My bra hangs from the handle of the microwave. His scrubs lie atop the bowl of fruit on the counter. My fingers are in his hair, pulling his head to mine. His hands dig into my behind and drag my body into his.

His lips press, his tongue laps, leaving a trail of his warm saliva all over my skin. My brain tries to process the sensations one at a time but misfires as his nails bite into my ass and he lifts me onto the counter.

I scoot myself to the edge, the stone cool beneath me. A condom appears from his wallet and he slides it along his thick, hard shaft. I watch, applauding myself for not springing off the counter and climbing him like a freaking tree.

“Ready?” he asks, holding himself in his hand.

“I was ready ten minutes ago.”

He grins as he approaches me. “Only ten?”

“Fine,” I say, positioning myself so he can enter me. “I wouldn’t have turned you down when I was seventeen.”

He shakes his head as he rests a palm on my shoulder. His cock hovers over my opening and he watches me with the most alluring grin.

“I wouldn’t have turned you down either,” he says.

“I—ah!”

He slips inside me in one slow, deliciously smooth move. I scoot closer to the edge, wanting, needing, willing to beg for more.

“Holden . . .”

His eyes roll to the back of his head as he fills me completely. “That. That’s what I’ve been dreaming about, right fucking there.”

“As you slept on the floor?” I tease, wincing as he rolls his hips.

He opens his eyes. “You’re going to tease me now? While I’m inside you.” He pulls back until the head of his cock is almost out before filling me again.

My body shivers at his words—“I’m inside you.” I’m not in any position, in any sense of the word, to deal with that kind of language. So I just stick with it.

“I’ll always tease you,” I moan. “Whether or not you’re inside me.”

He stills. His palm on my shoulder tenses before he grips me again. I think he whispers, “I hope so,” but I’m not sure. Before I can think about it too much, he’s driving into me again.

The air fills with a mixture of his cologne and the smell of sex. My hair sticks to my back as it topples from the haphazard knot at the top of my head.

He runs a palm down my chest and over each breast, rubbing each nipple against the calloused skin of his hand. It’s sensation overload, and I whimper as it all boils together in one crazy, hot cauldron deep in my core.

“Damn you . . . ,” I say, each word uttered in a hiccupped breath.

His knees hit the cabinet doors with each thrust, knocking into the wood with a force that has me vaguely concerned about repairs. I can feel his fingers in the skin of my backside as he drags me so that I’m half-off the stone. I twist my leg around his waist, my top half barely propped up on my elbows.

As I gaze up at his face, it’s like gasoline has been added to an already burning fire.

“Holden!” I shout, the flames licking through my veins.

He doesn’t say a word, just watches me fall apart beneath him.

I thrash my head back and forth, the explosion barreling through my body almost too much to take. Colors paint my sight, the sound of our bodies coming together ricocheting through my ears. I can hear, smell, taste nothing but Holden McKenzie. It’s incredible.

He eases his thrusts slowly, deliberately, taking his cues from me. Finally, when there’s nothing left to coax from my body, he stills.

His hand comes out and brushes a strand of hair off my face. The tenderness in his eyes makes me shiver.

I wait for him to speak, to say something to break the ice. I don’t even care if it’s something annoying right now.

Instead, he pulls out and then surprises me. He slips one arm under my back and the other behind my legs.

Before I know what’s happening, I’m being carried through the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my throat tight and raw.

“Taking you to bed.”

“Why?”

He grins down at me as he kicks my bedroom door open. “Because I haven’t finished yet.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, my arm draped around his neck. Sweat dots his skin and coats his hair, and I don’t tell him, but I could stay right here for the rest of the night.

He lays me in the middle of my bed before climbing in with me. On his knees, he hovers over me.

The air between us shifts. The lust from earlier seems to have disappeared, and in its place is a reverence that settles heavily on my chest.