Run To Rome
“Good?”
A deep sigh of contentment accompanied her smile. He roamed his free hand over every reachable inch of her body, following it with his gaze. Halli’s heart sped up again at the look of appreciation his eyes. It gave her the courage to reach down and tug on the waistband of his jeans.
“Why are you still half-dressed?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
He wasted no time undoing the button and zipper. Halli rolled onto her side and watched, still slightly dazed from what he’d just done to her. When he lifted his hips to shuck the denim, she splayed her fingers across his taut stomach.
“Damn. I was hoping for commando.”
His laugh came out low, tense, and completely sexy as her hand slid lower.
“That’s only when I’m surprised from the shower by thugs. Otherwise it’s too dangerous to zip—”
His words dissolved into a growl when she brushed across the soft material of his boxer-briefs and felt the length of his erection. Extra large condoms, indeed.
The boxers followed the jeans and, channeling Italy Halli, she took her turn exploring his body. All hard planes and angles and sinewy muscle beneath velvet skin, with a faint salty taste to compliment his intoxicating male scent. She kissed each bruise as if she could erase them; ribs, sternum, forearm and even the faint shadow the back of her head had left on the side of his chin.
Heat shimmered off him in waves, spiking with each groan she wrung from his lips. She’d finally given in to the fact that her life was out of her control, and yet she’d never felt more in control than at this moment.
When Trent couldn’t take anymore of her wicked tongue and teeth, he dragged her up and flipped their positions again. She continually surprised him. Shy one moment, wonderfully eager the next. He took the necessary moment to put on a condom before sliding into her heat. So hot, so tight. It took everything he had not to take her fast and furious, but he managed to hold on by a thread.
Slow. Make it last.
She was beautiful, lying beneath him, hair fanned on the navy bedspread. Those blue eyes of hers were unreadable in the dim light, but going by her expression, she wouldn’t be complaining any time soon. He’d make sure of that.
Her hips lifted, taking him deeper with each thrust. Heat built again, one tantalizing degree at a time. Soft, breathy moans emanated from her parted lips. They turned him on like nothing else and his control began to slip.
Faster. Harder. She urged him on, her voice desperate, relentless, reaching, until suddenly she cried out, louder than before. Trent followed her over the edge with a jerk of his body and a mind-blowing release.
His arms trembled from the extended time supporting his weight. Fighting to catch his breath, he eased to the side. He couldn’t resist a kiss on her smooth neck and a taste of her sweat-slick skin with the tip of his tongue. He should be satisfied, tired. Instead, he wanted to start all over despite the dull ache of his injured arm.
“Mmm,” she murmured, eyes closed.
“Never figured you for a screamer.”
“Never was before.”
Her eyes popped open and a flush spread across her face; a captivating, unexpected return of shyness.
Trent grinned with pure male satisfaction. “That was all me?”
She quickly shook her head side to side. “No.”
“You can’t take it back.”
“I can if I don’t want the boat to sink under the weight of your ego.”
He chuckled. “I special ordered the boat to handle my ego.”
“In that case, your earlier comment about not being good enough is completely unfounded.”
He smiled slightly, but didn’t hold her gaze. He hadn’t been talking about sex when he’d said that. Aware of cooler air on their damp, heated bodies, Trent shifted and urged her under the covers. She curled up on her side, head pillowed on her arm. He propped up on one elbow, watching her eyelids droop. “Ready for dessert?”
“Isn’t that what we just had?” she asked with a sleepy smile.
After a heartbeat or two, Trent managed a soft, cocky, “By my definition, we sure did, sweetheart.”