Outside the Lines - Lisa Desrochers Page 0,122

over mine and kisses me with such intensity that I can’t find my breath for a long minute after, then he starts pumping harder against me. I lift my knees and spread them wider, letting him in all the way to the heart of me.

There’s no pain. Only mind-blowing, life-altering pleasure as he drives himself into me to the root, pressing hard into my clit over and over.

He unlocks my soul, and all the love I feel for him floods to the surface in an overwhelming rush. An animal moan that I can’t contain claws up my throat, trying to give voice to the indescribable ecstasy that has me spinning out of control within minutes. I lift my arms overhead and give myself up to him completely.

I roll my hips under him and he groans out my name. He matches my rhythm, and we come in a blur of sweat and sensation, love and lunacy, trust and truth. On what feels like the last breath I’ll ever take, I call out his name.

He collapses on top of me, and we wrap ourselves together so tightly I can’t feel a single part of me that’s not pressed against him. Outside these walls, the world is conspiring against us. But in here, this moment is all that matters.

* * *

I sleep more soundly than I have any right to, but only for a few hours. Insistent kisses along my neck and shoulder wake me with an ache already forming in my belly. Rob’s hot body is wrapped tightly around mine, and I feel his need, long and hard, pressed against my thigh.

I push him back and roll groggily on top of him without even opening my eyes. His breath in my hair, and his hands on my body are a dream I never want to wake from. I sink myself slowly down his length and more feel his groan than hear it.

“Adri,” he says, low in my ear.

“Mmm?” I answer, still only half-awake.

“We don’t have protection.” His words sound a little strangled, like he’s holding himself back.

I stop moving on top of him and realize he’s right. Last night, it was the last thing on my mind. I push myself up to straddle him and open my eyes.

He’s looking up at me with a mix of agony and lust in his gaze. I gasp when he swings around and stands, bringing me with him. He carries me to the bathroom and sets me down, then cranks the shower to life. I step in and he follows me, pinning me against the wall. His skin is hot on my back and the tile is cool on my front, the contrast sending a shiver through me.

One hand finds my breast and the other slicks down my wet stomach to find the bundle of nerves between my legs. A quick flick of his finger sends an electric jolt through my entire body, weakening my legs. I cry out as my knees buckle, and he pulls me tighter against him.

After a minute, when I feel like I have my legs back, he reaches past me for the soap. His hands are slow and deliberate as they move up my arms, my shoulders, my chest. My nipples pucker even tighter as his fingertips slick over them. He tugs at the stiff peaks, and I find they’re hardwired to my groin when I feel myself start to throb there.

I try to turn in his arms, but he holds me here. “Uh-uh. This one’s just for you,” he says, low and throaty.

One hand continues on my nipple, and the other reaches for the soap again, then caresses every inch of my chest and stomach on its way lower. When his fingers reach my clit, still swollen and sensitive, I arch with my moan. I feel his body’s response, his erection becoming stiffer against my back.

His slick fingertips dance over the nerve endings between my legs, then press nearly to the point of pain.

I hiss a gasp.

“Good or bad,” he asks, his voice a low growl, sex in my ear.

“Good,” I breathe.

He presses harder and stars flash behind my eye closed eyelids, but then he gives it a soft stroke and I cry out. His lips glide down my neck and his teeth sink into my collarbone at the same instant he presses into my clit again.

“Oh, God!” It comes out as half a sob.

“Good or bad?” he asks again.

“More,” I pant.

His fingers slick along the skin at the fold

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