I hooked my legs around his waist, locking my ankles together behind his back, and sank deeper into our kiss. It was full of fire.
“Do you want to stop?” His voice was strained with need. “Because I want something I shouldn’t.” Our foreheads pressed together. “It’s all I want whenever you’re around.”
My mouth fell open on an audible gasp. How was I supposed to react to that? It made my already racing pulse leap faster. All I could see were his dark, gorgeous eyes.
A warning sliced through my mind, sharp and white-hot, but I shoved it aside. I’d always done the right thing. I’d been the selfless one in the relationship with Preston. For once, I was going to do what I wanted, and what I wanted was Greg.
“I was thinking about the same thing when I just . . .”
His eyes went heavy. “When you came?”
We were too close for him to see it, but with our foreheads together, he had to feel my subtle nod. It sounded like I punched air from his lungs.
It set him into motion. The tip of his tongue skimmed down the slope of my breast, keeping contact even as my chest rose and fell with my deep swallows of breath. I was a live wire beneath him, and I swiveled my hips, rubbing my arousal against his. Our groans came out in the same pitch, low and soaked with desire.
“Cassidy.” He whispered it at the base of my neck. “I want to feel you all around me, even if it’s just for a few seconds. Is that okay?”
Oh, God. The muscles deep in my belly clenched in response, so tight it was almost painful. Lust wrung the word from my lips. “Yes.”
He took the heat of his body away as he straightened, leaned over to the side, and tugged open a drawer on the nightstand. Were his hands shaking? No, I had to have imagined it. He dealt with life and death situations every day on his operating table and had a steady hand there. There was no way fooling around with me could affect him like that.
I lifted my head to gaze at him as he pushed down his underwear, and I pressed my lips together to stifle the whimper. His dick was long and thick, so hard it had a slight upward curve to it. I stared while he tore open the condom, and as he rolled it on, tension tightened in me until I was one compact cord, too twisted to move.
His eyes were hungry and full of longing.
“Have you thought about this?” I asked abruptly. No idea where the question came from.
He slowed. His expression clouded with hesitation, or maybe shame, and then disappeared.
“All the time.” His measured gaze worked along the length of my bare body, lingering over my nakedness. I felt flushed and breathless. “Jesus, Cassidy,” he continued. “After that day I saw you and Preston on the lounge chair . . . I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
I closed my eyes as my heart skipped. His admission seared into my center, and desire reached fever pitch.
He pressed the fingertips of one hand to my clit, shooting sparks of pleasure down my quivering legs, and used his other hand to stroke himself. His hooded gaze traveled to where he was touching me, and he looked mesmerized.
“What about you?” His tone was tight. Desperate to know, but trying to hide it. His fingers teased my most sensitive spot, causing me to gasp and squirm. “Did you think about this?”
I gripped the comforter at my sides and nodded vigorously. It was hard to say it out loud, and what he was doing made it impossible to speak, anyway. Need choked in my throat as a soft, sticky lump.
His expression was relief at first, pleased he wasn’t the only one between us who had these wrong fantasies. His face then heated with pleasure, and a finger speared into me as a reward.
“Tell me,” he pleaded. “Tell me what you thought about.”
I bowed my back, clenching at his invasion and loving it at the same time. How was I supposed to tell him? How was I going to think about anything but the way his finger pulsed in and out, stretching and preparing me?
I threaded my hands through my hair and shut my eyes tightly. “This,” I breathed. “Every night since we kissed.” A second finger joined the first and I moaned, clenching fistfuls of my hair. “Oh, God, every night.”
His sigh was heavy. “Did you touch yourself?”
“Yes.” I moved my hips to match his lazy tempo.
His expression was indescribable. If I’d had to label it, I’d have said he looked fucking thrilled. “Did you get off thinking about me?”
My desperation burned away any shame. I was suddenly eager to say it, hissing it out. “Yes.”