“But they do it all the time in romance novels,” I point out, catty. “What kind of romantic hero are you?”
A wide smile practically splits his face in two as he leans into me. “Fiction, baby,” he whispers as he drops a soft soothing kiss on my hip. “Let’s try a softer approach.” He bites at my panties and pulls at the fabric with his teeth. I hitch up my rear to make his job easier. He drops another soft kiss on my curls.
I am completely lost in him. I’ve forgotten everything else. There is no baby, no Weston. No more remorse. No more pain. There’s just Gabe and me and this quaint too-small vintage bed.
With a wicked expression on his face, he sweeps his fingers along my lips, my sex wet and swollen. My breath hitches at his touch. I study his beautiful face; the gorgeous wide-set eyes, the dark brows and lashes, the wide sexy crooked smile, the perfect skin, the strong nose, and the week-old beard. I want him to make me come.
But not quite yet.
First, I want to kiss every inch of his body and I want him to explore every part of mine.
He leans his head between my thighs, parts my lips with his skilled fingers and slides his tongue over my clit. I press against him, enjoying the build-up. I wholeheartedly want that release.
God, I can’t.
I pull him to me again. He fixes me with a confused expression. “What is it, Ella?”
“Nothing,” I breathe. “I want you naked and inside me.”
He smiles wide. “Hell, I want that too.”
“You’re still fully dressed,” I point out as I press him back against the mattress. It’s my turn to be on top. He fixes me with such happiness in his eyes, I feel guilty again. But just for a second because I’m giving him pleasure and that’s all I care about — giving him pleasure one last time before I completely shatter him.
I straddle him and he closes his eyes. I pull up the white T, exposing his hard chest and the tattoo I love so much. He pulls his shirt over his head in a frenzy. I trace my fingers along the curves of his beautiful shoulders, along the lines of his tattoos.
“I love that,” he says. “When you touch me like that.”
“I don’t touch you enough. I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m guilty too,” he says. “We should do this more often.”
“We should,” I agree, sliding down his legs. I peel off his silky boxers, freeing his erection. I wrap my hand around him and take him in my mouth, as far as I can go. He moans a little too loudly, but I love the sound. I wish I could take him deeper but he’s just so big. I swirl my tongue around him and I shoot him a sly look.
He throws his head back. “You’re killing me, Ella.”
I suck harder, wanting to drive him even crazier, wanting him to come in my mouth.
But he grabs me by the chin and pulls me from him. “Come here.”
The Gabe I know is back. He rips my camisole over my head and pulls at my bra, unclasping it in a hurry. “God, you’re so beautiful, Ella,” he whispers, his words broken. “I can’t believe we don’t do this every day.”
“Ditto, babe.” I smile and kiss him again.
He tears his mouth from mine and travels to my breast, biting me hard.
I can’t wait anymore.
My mouth finds his again as I straddle him and rub my sex against his shaft, frantic and lost in his kiss. He bites my bottom lip as he finally sinks into me. I press into him hard — one push, two or three more and I fall apart immediately. And so does he. I don’t think it’s ever been so fast between us.
I cling to him, not wanting to let go. I want to stay in this moment forever — right now, I don’t quite need to face the future, and the mess that is our lives.
I study my reflection in the wall length mirror. I’m completely naked, just about to step into the shower. The natural daylight streaming through the window casts a soft flattering light — I look pretty. My skin is fair as always, soft freckles splattered here and there. My shoulders and nose are a shade of pink, sunburned. I’ve tried to be good and lather on sunblock religiously, but despite my best efforts, this happens