The look in her eyes was almost his undoing. He could have gone to his knees before her and everything he’d felt inside for far too long was boiling inside him, threatening to spill out.
Swearing, he tore back and pulled her off the table, spinning her around and urging her forward. She made a startled sound and he dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her nape.
“Shhh . . . shhh,” he murmured as he guided her forward. “Bend over for me, Abby. Just . . .”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes dark and unreadable. So dark. But then, as a sigh shuddered out of her, she bent forward, bracing her hands on the table. He urged her lower, until she was flat against the surface and he slid his hands under the tangle of skirt and petticoat, pushing it up to her waist. Then he swore, long and low, at the sight of her ass, the sleek, wet core of her, exposed to his sight.
On her hip, he could see the elegant lines of his tattoo and he dipped his head, kissed the soft skin just next to it before he straightened and moved in, tucking the head of his cock against her gate. Soft, wet heat greeted him, closed around him and then, eyes closed, he surged forward—
“Fuck,” he snarled, slamming a hand onto the table by her head.
Abby moaned and rotated her hips back, clenching down around him.
“Abby . . . don’t. Be still.” Sweating, shaking, he braced his hands on her hips. “Rubber. I need . . .”
“Zach.” Her lashes lifted and she turned her head a little, watching him through her lashes.
And despite his best intentions, even as he pulled put, he found himself surging back in. Silk. She was slick, wet, smooth silk and she felt so damned good. “I need to stop,” he panted. “I don’t . . . I didn’t put a rubber on.”
“I’m on the pill.” She licked her lips, blood rushing up to stain her cheeks red. “And . . .”
He froze, bent over her. “Abby . . .”
“I had a physical done a couple weeks ago,” she whispered. “When I . . . well. I had one done. It had been a few months since Roger and I were . . . oh!”
He shuddered and swore as he drove back inside her. “Don’t say his name when I’m inside you, Abby. Just don’t.”
“It’s been a while,” she said, glaring at him. “And I’m good. You don’t need . . .”
He knew what she was saying. And it shouldn’t matter. Smart adults didn’t do this.
But when it came to Abby, Zach wasn’t a smart adult. Bracing one elbow on the table, he rotated his hips against her again, felt her clench around him and he groaned.
“Do I stop?” he demanded.
“No.” She held his gaze and when he pulled out, eased back in, she clamped down on him like she never wanted him to leave.
That worked just fine for him.
But not like this . . . not now.
Straightening, he pulled out and listened to her ragged groan, the soft sound of disappointment. But then, as he turned her over, her eyes widened. He reached for the hem of his shirt and dragged it off before pulling her hips to the very edge of the table. Her legs hung off the edge as he tucked the head of his cock against her gate. “Like this. Watching each other . . .”
Her gaze caught his, held his as he slid his arms under her knees, holding her open . . . vulnerable . . . as he surged deep inside, the soft, slick tissues of her pussy yielded to him and she cried out his name.
Naked and smooth, tight and hot, she closed around him. Perfect.
So damned perfect . . .
I love you, he thought, staring down at her.
And he had to fight to keep those words trapped inside. Lifting one of her legs, he pressed a kiss to her calf, stroked his palm along her smooth skin. Her eyes, dark and wide, locked on his face and he hated the dim light, wished he’d turned it on so he could see her, see all of her, the way the lacy, flouncy material of that insanely female petticoat tangled around her waist as he rode her, wished he could see the way her skin was so pretty and pale against