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“I want to taste you.”
His gaze moved to the juncture between her thighs, but he made no move.
After a moment, Gia’s brows furrowed. “Are you waiting for permission?”
“Yes.” His eyes met hers, open and direct.
She parted her thighs.
“Don’t touch me like I’m fragile, easily broken. I want to be touched like—”
Like I’m loved.
Only she couldn’t say that. “—like a normal woman.”
His face tightened. “You are a normal woman.”
He moved between her spread legs. Lowered his head.
“I take that back.” His voice was low, rumbly, and so hot. “You outclass any woman I’ve ever met.”
He dragged his tongue through her folds to curl around her clit.
“Caleb.”
His name slipped out on a gasp before she could stop it—raw, breathless, stunned by the rush of pleasure.
“You taste like you smell—sweet desert syrup.”
He licked and sucked, driving her mad with the sweetest kind of torture, until she was a mindless creature beneath him, responding only to stimuli.
A finger thrust inside her. Then another.
She dug her heels into the mattress for leverage and rode them hard.
“Come for me, baby.” A command wrapped in a velvet whisper.
He kept pumping his hand. Rubbing her clit. Harder, faster.
Gia’s body snapped like a rubber band.
Pulsating waves of pleasure crashed over her—a second orgasm, drowning her in bliss.
And freedom.
Yet she still ached with a need only he could fill. Her hands shot out to tangle in his short hair.
“I need you inside me.”
Caleb stood. Shucked his briefs.
She sat up, her fingers itching to touch the part of him jutting arrogantly toward her.
He cursed under his breath, scanned the room. “Duffle bag.”
Before she formed a response, he’d located it and returned with a foil wrapper in his grip.
“Let me.” She held out her hand.