motion, nearly losing it when the penetration deepened.
“Where did you learn to move like that?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have one. With him, it just felt right.
He planted his hands on her hips and rocked her, literally and figuratively. Immediately, she discovered she had nothing to hold, so she threw back her head and let him keep the pace while she ground hard against him until pleasure once again tore through her, leaving her a muddled mess. He flipped her to the side, then lazily pumped his hips against her, riding out his orgasm while looking into her eyes.
Oh. God.
He smiled gently, the look of an utterly satisfied man. Knowing that she’d done that to him sent a funny little thrill through her.
“I’ve never really made out for days with anyone,” he said softly. Her eyes must have expressed her confusion, because he elaborated. “Not during sex. It feels too close.”
“So what are you doing kissing me?”
“I don’t—what’s that noise? And that smell?”
“Uh-oh.” She scrambled away from him, threw on a T-shirt—his, she realized after the fact—and ran to the kitchen to take out the brownies. Cautiously, she sniffed the pan. They didn’t smell too bad. Buoyed, she snagged a toothpick off the shelf and poked the center of the pan. It went in, sort of, so that was a good sign. “Good.”
“What’s good?”
She jumped at Sawyer’s voice behind her, then immediately relaxed into the embrace that followed. He was naked, and his dick nudged at her butt. “Not happening,” she warned.
“What’s not happening?”
“Round three. We have somewhere to be. Your somewhere, I might add.”
“Yeah, right.” He peered over her shoulder. “Wow, I’m impressed.”
“Really?”
“Homemade dog treats? You bet I am.”
She jabbed her elbow into his washboard abs. “Dogs can’t have chocolate, you jerk.”
“That’s chocolate?” He appeared utterly bewildered.
“Brownies,” she explained. “For your mom’s.”
“Um…”
“Smile and nod, Sawyer Chase. It’s a boxed mix. I handled it.”
He grinned and planted a kiss on her neck. “You rock my world, sweetness. You sure you don’t want to fuck?”
She rolled her eyes and headed for the bedroom, where her clothes were likely hopelessly wrinkled. “You sure you don’t want to expand your vocabulary?”
“I beg your pardon,” he said, hot on her heels. “I excel in expanding parts.”
Marmaduke looked up from the bed when they entered. He cocked his head at Sawyer and proceeded to show his teeth. His body shook with the force of his growl.
“What’s the matter there, Minidick? Got some penis envy going on?”
“No wonder he hates you.”
“Why?” His eyes danced. “Because he thinks I’m a god?”
“He is not the least bit interested in your penis.”
Sawyer snagged her by the waist and pulled her in. She quickly learned it was a ploy to relieve her of his shirt. “What about you?” he asked.
“Seriously? Are we not almost late?”
“Seriously.”
“Your penis is amazing. You’re definitely a god.” And he kind of was. Weren’t men supposed to need a recovery period between orgasms? Clearly, he’d been wired all wrong. He was sex, sex, and more sex.
Surely you’re not surprised.
No, she wasn’t, but he had to have another gear. Maybe she’d discover that this afternoon. In fact, she’d better, because if the dinner conversation was about sex, she was so outta there.
“We’re going to be late,” she said.
“Maybe we don’t have to go at all.”
“Date five,” she said. The words were supposed to be a playful warning, but instead they felt like a punch to the gut.
Apparently not only to her. “Yeah,” he said darkly, plopping naked onto the bed. “Date five.”
Inexplicably hurt, she turned away. She found her clothes and wiggled into them, feeling his eyes on her but not returning the favor. He didn’t need her attention. He had every other woman on the planet to swoon over him. That would be enough for anyone else, but not Sawyer Chase.
But that wasn’t her problem, was it?
She forced down her irritation and locked herself in the bathroom long enough to clean up. When she exited, she found him in the kitchen-living-room-dining-area—New York apartments were closets to the rest of the world—kicking a chew toy to Marmaduke. She held back, watching while the dog snatched it up, snarling, and ran to deposit it at Sawyer’s feet. He then circled around and sat until Sawyer kicked it again, and the process restarted.
What. The. Heck.
She kept silent as she went to the stove, where the pan of brownies waited, and grabbed a knife. They probably weren’t cool enough to cut but close enough. Fortunately, they were only slightly overdone.