He could feel the tiny pulses inside her as the pounding continued to hold him in its grip.
When he finally came, the release felt as if it had been ripped from him, taking every ounce of his strength along with it. The energy buzzing around the room faded and his muscles gave out. He had to balance his palms against the bed to keep from flattening her. Still, he rested against her, anchoring her underneath him. Skin against skin as the harsh breaths rocked his lungs.
With both of them spent, he eased out of her. Fell to his side and watched her. She stretched out her legs until she lay on her stomach. Her hands slid up the bed to land close to her head before slipping under the pillow. But she kept her face turned away from him.
The sex had rubbed him raw. He couldn’t even call it sex anymore. The term felt too cold and distant. The intimacy that wrapped around them reached deeper than two bodies slapping together. He’d crossed over into lovemaking, which made something twist in his gut. After a lifetime of protecting his sanity by keeping relationships with women light and away from Brandon, he’d broken both personal rules. With her. Because of her.
Conflicting emotions bombarded him. He still wanted her safe, but not as part of any job. This need to tuck her close and talk things over with her was so new he didn’t even know how to handle it. He kept mentally chalking up the change in him to a strong attraction to her, but that didn’t make much sense. He’d found other women beautiful before her and wanted to sleep with them. This didn’t feel like those. This came with thoughts about a future and a dread over the idea of her leaving the house with that bag and never looking back.
The need to coddle her, protect her, spoil her, learn from her—every sensation hit him as he lay there. The last time he’d known love for a woman was as a teenager. Back then it came in this overwhelming burst. So dramatic and intense, but it burned out fast. A crying baby had a way of putting love to the test, and theirs failed. It actually failed before that when she said she wanted out of it all—the relationship with him and motherhood.
With Natalie he experienced the slow burn, the gentle creeping up on him. Jesus, if he loved her he truly was fucked because Natalie would not rush in with him. She’d be difficult and insist he had the flu or something and would get over it. He ran the risk of her shutting down, or worse, shutting him out. No matter what she would not give an inch. She’d make him prove it.
And he wouldn’t expect her to act any other way. That’s who she was and part of what drove his attraction to her—her strength and independence.
He reached out and ran a hand over her hair. “You okay?”
That quick, she turned around and she smiled at him. A stray strand of hair fell over her mouth and he pushed it away. Brushed his hand over her cheek and loved the smoothness under his fingers.
“You promised I’d be a panting mess by the time we were done.” Her lips were wet as she licked her tongue across the bottom one.
If he said half of the naughty things that went through his head she might just slap him. Though, maybe not. Natalie embraced her sexuality. Of the many things he found so hot about her, that was near the top.
“That wasn’t very chivalrous of me,” he said, not feeling one ounce of guilt over any of it.
“I’m not complaining.” A bit of her southern accent snuck in as she talked.
Good thing she’d worn him out or he’d be all over her again, and right now he just wanted to look at her. To memorize every inch of her stunning face.
He didn’t fight the question playing in his mind. The same one he’d been biting back since Brandon went back to school. “Any chance I can convince you to stop keeping your stuff in the extra bedroom and just move it in here with me?”
She pushed up on her elbow and stared down at him. “That sounds like you’re okay with me taking over your house.”
Damn, but yeah. “Sharing it.”
She speared her fingers through her hair, separating the strands as she focused on some spot on the wall over