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“That’s two.”
He clamped his teeth down on my lip and growled, “So bull-headed.”
“Since when do men complain about womenwantingsex?”
“Since I wanted to be a gentleman and show you the goddamn world first.”
“That was adorably optimistic.” I scattered kisses across his chest as he kicked the bedroom door shut.
“Stubborn woman—won’t even let me woo her properly.”
“Consider me thoroughly wooed.”
“Persistent little thing, aren’t you?”
“You’ve got no idea.”
“I’m beginning to.” He tossed me onto the bed, and I landed with a bounce, squeaking as he followed and—oh my God—his towel was gone. Every bronzed inch of him draped over me. I couldn’t decide whether to ogle the tattoos or the delicious muscles running down his back.
His Monday confession slammed into me, short-circuiting logic while his lips and teeth found my neck. The man didn’t need a Hollywood spectacle—he already had me. But damn, it felt incredible to be wanted like this, by a man confident enough to take the shot.
To kiss, taste, and touch like his life depended on it. And maybe it did, because every glide of his hands and bruising press of his lips said he needed this as desperately as I did.
But I needed more.
Needed him everywhere.
I hooked my legs around his waist and yanked him flush against me. He rocked his hips, grinding against me like I drove him just as wild. He did it again, sliding a knee between my thighs; his thick cock pressed against my center, separated only by the tiniest scrap of lace I owned.
“Fuuuck.” He scraped his palms up my ribs, stripping me of my tee the instant I arched for him. It hit the floor as his gaze dropped to my bare breasts; he pinched a hard nipple, and pleasure detonated, arching me off the mattress as he rutted again. “You came over wearing justthat?”
My God, the sting of pleasure and pain was so fucking delicious. When he abandoned my breast I whimpered, but his hand slid down my torso, cupping my pussy through the damp fabric; a groan lodged in his chest as he pressed our foreheads together.
“Dammit, Leigh.”
“Never met a man who complains ab—” The words died in a gasp when he shoved the thong aside and sank a finger deep into my center. He curled it, finding a spot no toy could reach.
“I love how responsive you are,” he growled, “but you’re gonna make me blow way before I’m ready.”
“You say that like I’m not already planning round two.”
“That so?” That smile could incinerate me. Heat flooded my chest as my slick walls clenched around his finger. Some primal part of me begged him to take what he wanted, to come inside me?—
“Whatever’s running through that mind,don’t stop,” he breathed, licking down my neck, sucking a nipple into his mouth until it ached. I didn’t remember them feeling bruised like that last time, but I didn’t have long to think about it; the sight of him worshipping me shoved me over the edge. He withdrew and returned with two fingers, popping off my breast.
“So fucking stunning. So damn wet for me. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
A generous exaggeration, considering his supermodel track record, but the thought evaporated when he caged my head with his arms, eyes burning.
“I’m all in, Leigh. This isn’t just physical for me. I need you to know that.”
I nodded.Good. I could still move.That was something. Now if I could just find words…
“Show me,” I whispered. “Here. Now.”
His grin turned wolfish. “Oh, you’re not ready for that, baby.”
“Don’t tell me what I’m ready for—show me.”