Unbreak My Hart (The Notorious Harts 4)

‘You are so wet.’ His words run over me like sun-warmed honey. I tilt my hips, needing him deeper, harder, needing all of him.

‘Soon,’ he promises, undressing me fully, his hands caressing every curve of my flesh—my calves, my ankles, the arches of my feet—revering me, worshipping me in a way that is dangerously close to that new ground I wanted to escape. Sex isn’t about reverence and worship. It’s about cataclysmic explosions of desire, mutual orgasms, satisfaction and enjoyment. Sex is fast and rough and loud.

Just when I’m about to tell him this he grips my legs, parting them abruptly, and buries his mouth in me, his tongue intent now, his stubble stimulating every millimetre of my most sensitive flesh so I feel my wave of pleasure building, an orgasm inevitable, and I ride it hard, my fingers tangling in the bed linen, my body thrusting forward begging for more contact with his mouth, his mouth obliging until I’m tipping over the edge of sanity and awareness, until I’m purely sensation.

The relief is intense. Was it only this morning we did this? Before I left for my place, in the shower, wet and covered in foaming liquid soap? It feels like so much longer. I grip his shoulders as he moves up my body, returning to my breasts, my nipples almost painful now from the pleasure that’s coursing through my body.

His mouth claims mine, pleasure passing from him to me, his kiss so demanding, so sexy that I lift my hips, silently inviting him to take me, needing him with all of myself.

His laugh is gruff and he shakes his head a little, but that only makes me more determined.

‘Wait.’ He pulls up, his eyes latched to mine in a way I find disconcerting—like he can see way more than I want him to when we’re like this, all naked and tangled in the bed sheets.

‘I don’t want to.’

He laughs. ‘Condom.’ He kisses me again and lets the tip of his cock press to me, so the shock at what I almost forgot is obliterated by the promise of what’s to come.

‘I’m on the pill,’ I say, surprising myself with the admission. Not just the admission but the invitation implied by it. So we can do this without a condom. God, where did that come from?

‘I’m not.’ He grins, teasing me, pulling away and standing. ‘I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.’

As soon as he leaves the room I’m gobsmacked. His retreat gives me a moment to regroup, to focus. He’s dangerous. Sex with him is dangerous because it overtakes me completely, making it impossible to keep hold of who I am and what I want.

He walks in with a string of foil squares. My decision is immediate. I scramble off the bed, pointing to the space I’d just been occupying. ‘Lie down.’

He lifts one of those thick dark brows, tosses the condoms towards the edge of the bed and—a little to my surprise—does what I asked. ‘Like this?’

He gestures down the length of his body, his hands stopping just an inch away from his arousal.

‘Yep.’ I stare at him, the rigidity of his cock making my stomach twist, my knees weaken. ‘Almost.’

He’s watching me, his eyes trailing heat down my cheeks.

‘Stay.’

He laughs, a sound that chases me all the way upstairs.

‘I’m getting cold!’ His voice hits me as I grab a belt from my wardrobe, a smile tilting my lips as I move back down the stairs quickly.

He’s right where I left him, staring at the ceiling, still hard, still hotter than hell. He turns to face me when I enter, his eyes dropping to the belt, sparking with something like enquiry.

‘I don’t think that’s my size.’

‘It’s not for your waist.’

He pushes up onto his elbows. ‘No?’

‘Put your arms above your head.’

He doesn’t.

‘Come on.’ I move closer, climbing onto the bed and straddling him, tracing my fingers down his chest. ‘Trust me.’

His expression doesn’t shift.

‘You’ll enjoy it.’

‘Enjoy what?’