fingers over my hardened nipple.
“Perfect,” he said before dipping his head to take it into his mouth. Moving his thumb at the same time, I arched my back and cried out.
It felt so damn good.
I threw my hands behind me to catch my weight and gave myself over to his mouth and fingers. That tension in me spiraled tighter until I was wound impossibly tight, my muscles locking in what I hoped might be my first—
“Beckett!” I screamed his name when he pressed my clit in a deep stroke, sending my body into full meltdown as my orgasm took me over the edge, the release coming in powerful waves that tilted the earth’s axis.
He kissed me down with light, sipping caresses of his lips against mine. Until I summoned the strength to open my eyes and found him watching me, a look of utter adoration on his face.
“I could watch you do that a million times and still want more.”
“That was…” What was it about this man that stole all my words and turned me into a half-sentence-producing moron? “Good job.”
He grinned. “Good job?”
Oh God, I’d just verbally high-fived the guy.
“Well, yeah. I’ve never…without…well, with someone.”
His eyes widened in understanding. “There’s so much more.”
“Yeah, I like that plan.” Before I could say something else ridiculous, I kissed him, running my hands down his back. His skin was firm, warm, and so very soft. When I reached his belt, I skimmed my fingers along his waistline, savoring the way his abs flexed, and he sucked in a breath between kisses.
When I got to his zipper, I grew bold and took his erection in my hand and lightly gripped him. He was as hard as the granite beneath me, long, thick, and—if it was anything like the rest of his body—no doubt perfect.
His indrawn breath turned into a full-on hiss of air between his gritted teeth.
“Ella…”
I simply looked at him, letting him see how badly I wanted him, this, us. All of it.
Instead of stopping me, he simply nodded and shut his eyes for the few seconds I had of stroking up and down his length.
“God, baby,” he whispered.
He gave me one more chance to stroke, and then took my hand away, putting it on the counter. Before I could complain, he took his wallet out of his back pocket, slapping it on the counter next to me.
Then—thank you, all that is good and right in the world—he unsnapped his pants, kicking off his shoes and stripping down to nothing so quickly that all I could do was watch in appreciation.
The man was straight-up perfection, and all mine for the touching.
My mouth watering, I ran my fingers from his pecs down the lines of his abs, taking the time to fall from one ridge to the next. He wasn’t just defined, he was built, his muscles bulging down his stomach.
He stepped forward, between my thighs, and kissed me until I couldn’t think of anything except the feel of his mouth, the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his breath. He lifted me slightly, adjusting my dress so my butt hit the granite, then slid the fabric over my head, leaving me in nothing but my blue silk panties.
Then he locked eyes with me, hooked his thumbs in the straps, and dragged them down my legs and off. There was no time to be embarrassed, not when he was kissing me, skin to skin. The contact heightened everything, and our hands were quickly everywhere—touching, seeking, discovering each other.
When he slipped his hands between my thighs, that familiar pressure built again, the ache within me beginning to pulse.
“So beautifully wet,” he said between kisses.
Then he slid a finger inside me, and I almost came off the counter. “That feels incredible.” I rocked against his finger, and he added another, the stretch making that ache throb.
He flipped open his wallet with his free hand, sliding a foil packet free.
“Upstairs?” he asked.
“Here. Now. No more waiting.” Nearly mindless over the steady, deep strokes of his fingers, I grabbed the condom and ripped it open. My hands shook as I brought it to the head of his erection. I’d been right, even that was perfect.
“I don’t know— Oh God, Beckett!” He’d added a third finger while his thumb gently grazed my hypersensitive clit.
“Need help?”
“Yes. No experience with…” I groaned when he curled his fingers, finding that elusive spot inside me that had my hips moving to ride his hand. “These. Pregnant at eighteen, remember?”
He covered my