Page 70 of Missing Justice

Good.

Groaning, she set her hand on the back of his head, holding him in place. “Talk about not playing fair.”

He released her, then blew on the wet nipple. “You don’t seem to mind.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

When she wrapped her hand around him, he rolled to his back, let his mind drift. To Taylor, under him as he rocked himself into her. When did he turn into such a pansy when it came to sex? Before her, all he wanted was the release. The fast orgasm that would reset his system.

Now, he wanted everything. Slow, fast, hard, gentle. All of it.

And crazy Taylor Sinclair could give it to him.

Fantasies roaring, he reached over to his nightstand and slid the drawer open. “Condom,” he said.

Taylor let go—a shame that—and moved over him, her inner thigh rubbing against his engorged dick. He needed inside her.

“I’ll get it,” she said, rummaging in the drawer.

He opened his eyes, watched her tear open the foil then took it from her.

“Between the two of us, we might be a disaster.”

She laughed. “Like you said, we’re good together, but it’s a weird good. We’re our own kind of crazy.”

She smiled down at him and the air in his chest vanished. Gone. He sat up, cradled her face in his hands and kissed her. Never one to waste time, she angled to her back, bringing him with her and hooking one leg around him.

He gazed down at her, propped himself on his elbows and touched the edge of the bruise marring her forehead. When he found the fucker that put it there he’d kill him.

“Matt, please.”

She arched against him and he shifted right and—yes—he was inside her. Slowly easing into her as she smiled and her eyes rolled back.

“Oh, that’s good,” she said.

“Different?”

She locked her legs around him and cupped her hands on his cheeks. “Perfect.”