weren’t so certain he’d be losing it within moments. His hand reached out, pulled open the drawer of the bedside table, and fumbled for something. Handed it to her.
Taking her time, she tore open the foil packet and took inordinate care in sheathing him. A fraction of an inch at a time. Stripping off her panties she straddled him again, taking his hardness in her hand and guiding him inside her.
His hands went to her hips and he gave a quick upward lunge to seat himself fully. And for a moment, for one dizzying instant, she doubted her ability to carry out her vow. To control the pace until he was aware of nothing else. Until his senses were steeped in her.
When he would have moved again, taken over the tempo and set a pace that would drive them both to madness, she pushed his hands away from her hips. Laced their fingers instead. And watched him in the darkness as she finally moved. Keeping her movements slow and shallow. Saw the moment the smile faded from his lips and his jaw clenched.
She could feel his urgency in the taut muscles beneath her palms. The way they quivered beneath her touch. His hands, when they rose to cup her breasts, trembled slightly.
But he didn’t take control of the speed or the act. Not even when his thighs went tense beneath her hips. His breathing sounded harsh and ragged. And she wanted, needed, to see that control unleashed.
Quickening the pace, she rode him faster. Harder. Deeper. Reached between them to touch his heavy masculinity and felt his restraint snap. Nate’s hands went to her hips as he surged inside her. She met him stroke for stroke, the edge of her vision graying. This was what she wanted. The primal unharnessed need given full rein. She’d known it would be starkly satisfying to watch him lose control.
She hadn’t realized his loss would fuel her own. Heat, quick stabbing spears of it, arrowed up her spine. The shadows enveloped them in a tight black cocoon of sensuality. There were only the two of them racing each other to climax. The sound of flesh against flesh. The rasp of their breathing. The creak of the bed.
Her blood beat a rapid tattoo in her veins. In her ears. Their hips pounded together in a frantic tempo. Nate gave one last violent surge and colors shattered behind her eyelids. Sanity fractured.
But as they both hurtled over the edge of passion, his name was on her lips.
Chapter 20
Risa opened her eyes, disoriented in the unfamiliar surroundings. It took a moment to remember she was in Nate’s house. Another to recall that she was in his bed.
And another to set aside a bit of pique to find herself alone in it.
Shoving aside the emotion, she rolled to the side of the mattress, stood. Her muscles felt pleasantly lax. It was hard to set aside the sense of well-being, she acknowledged as she searched for her T-shirt, after a night of good sex.
And impossible to set it aside after a night of superb sex.
She found her shirt neatly folded at the base of the bed, which saved her having to do a nude search for it. Not that she would have managed that with aplomb, but she wasn’t quite up to parading in front of the man naked.
Pulling the tee over her head, she finger combed her hair and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She’d promised him breakfast. And since it was difficult to recall the last time she’d eaten, she might just match him, appetite for appetite. Much as she had a few hours earlier.
Strolling in a languid manner to the kitchen, it took only the sight of him to have tension shooting into her limbs. Ice filtering through her veins.
With a slight frown on his face, Nate was studying the sketches she’d made last night. The drawings she should have taken back to her room. Tucked in her bag, away from prying eyes.
But she hadn’t gone back to her room, she recalled sickly. And her mind definitely hadn’t been on the drawings.
He looked up then, saw her standing there, and raked her figure with his heated midnight gaze. “You look good all sleepy and rumpled.” Satisfied memory sounded in his voice. And something else. Something that promised to make them both late to work if she gave him half a chance.
She found it exceedingly difficult to match his even tone. Heading toward the fridge,