Jaimie: Fire and Ice (The Wilde Sisters 2)

The sound of her voice penetrated the red haze of his desire and he held still, looked down into her face. Had he hurt her? No. No. Her eyes were blurred with want; her lips were parted. She was orgasming around him, the muscles of her vagina contracting around his engorged penis.

He fought against letting go. He didn’t want to come. Not yet. He wanted to go deeper within her silken walls, he wanted to fill her, make her come again and again.

“Look at me,” he said, his, voice a low, harsh growl. “Jaimie. Look at me.”

She blinked. Brought her eyes to his. His hands tightened on her and he drove into her again, again, again, until she was sobbing, reaching for him, and he lowered his head, took her mouth as he was taking her body,, and she arched her back, her body an elegant bow as she came and came and finally, as the world threatened to spin out of control, he groaned, pressed into her, and let go, let go, let go…

He collapsed against her or maybe she collapsed against him, both of them gasping for breath, both their hearts rocketing.

He’d been on missions where his heart had not beaten this hard and fast.

He swept his arms around her. Closed his eyes, buried his face in her hair, inhaled her fragrance. Her face was pressed against his throat; he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin.

What was she thinking?

He’d been with women who liked sex done this way. Hard. Fast. Without any sense of time or place, but she hadn’t seemed the kind who would want something like that.

Should he apologize? Explain? Ask that time-honored question, Are you OK?

Jesus. How about a better question?

“Jaimie.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t believe that I—I didn’t use a condom.”

She made a little sound. Sort of as if she were clearing her throat.

“I’m on the pill.”

“Good. I mean…” He drew back, just an inch or two. Framed her face with his hands. “Hey,” he said softly.

Not brilliant, but it made her open her eyes and look at him. Ah, God, that look! Pleasure. Shock. How could it be both?

Maybe the moment was right for that time-honored question after all.

“Honey? You OK?”

She sucked in a breath. Swallowed. Color swept into her face.

“Yes.”

He nodded, as if she’d just solved all the mysteries of the universe.

“I wasn’t too quick? I mean, I—”

She put her fingers lightly over his mouth.

“You weren’t,” she said, and the color in her cheeks deepened.

“Good. Good. Because—”

She brushed her lips over his.

“Because,” she whispered, “that was—it was—”

He stopped the softly spoken words with a kiss. The glow in her eyes, the delicate feel of her mouth told him all a man could possibly want to know.

A tremor went through her.

“What?” he said.