The Price of Inertia (The Seven Sins #4) - Lily Zante Page 0,104
through my body, amplifying everything, heightening every feeling I have for this man. We use one another, draining and squeezing and taking every last drop of pleasure, until we come together. When I stop convulsing, when the aftershocks of our lovemaking subside, I rest my head on his shoulder, and he holds me, as if he never wants to let me go.
Chapter 41
WARD
I’m a hot sticky mess, but she’s in my arms, sitting on me and I don’t want to let her go.
I am drawn to this woman and I can’t reverse it. I don’t want to be a stranger anymore. I don’t want to spend my life in my study writing all day and seeing nobody but Freya.
She moves, lifts her head off my shoulder and looks at me with her dark bedroom eyes. Then she kisses me. It’s a light press of her lips against mine, but it’s enough to rouse the cells in my body. I stand up still holding her, and her legs tighten around my waist. The robe has slipped off one shoulder and I pull it back on again.
“This suits you,” I whisper as I walk upstairs with her.
“Maybe I should borrow more of your clothes.”
“I prefer you with no clothes.”
She plants playful kisses along my neck, then squeals, “Put me down. You’ll fall.”
“Don’t trust me?”
Her leghold around my hips tightens in answer and my manhood is fully awake again.
I enter her room and throw her onto the bed. She lies back, shrugging out of the robe, widening her legs enticingly.
I wasn’t planning to leave her tonight, or get any sleep; I was planning to take a shower first because her scent is all over me. She catches my hesitation as I rake my gaze up the length of her body.
Quick as a flash I flip her onto her stomach and thrust inside her. We both moan at the same time. She is sweet, and hot and tight. She fits me like a glove. I kiss her shoulder, emotions swirling around my heart, making me feel things that have long been buried. She giggles, and I drop another kiss. It’s a gentle gesture, unlike the shitstorm of feelings I have for her. Pressed against her, buried deep inside her, we are skin to skin. I own her. She belongs to me. I drop a spattering of kisses on her back, and when she squirms again, I thrust into her. She writhes and moans, and I begin to thrust harder and harder.
The next few hours pass by in a blur. Everything I’ve been holding in, my feelings for her, my desire, my need, pours forth. We take a bath together. Ordinarily I wouldn’t indulge in such time consuming activities, but Mari insists. There’s a playfulness around her, which is contagious. Sitting in the bathtub, with her between my legs, and with her back to me, I enjoy the sensation of soaping her, of exploring every inch of her body as she lays against my chest. Under the water I pleasure her with my fingers, kissing her wet skin as other arm locks around her. She jerks to my touch, and I bask in the heat of our union. I don’t want to think about all the things that could go wrong. They always do. I won’t let the past gnaw at my gut and I allow myself to enjoy this precious time.
She wants to know when my book will be done, she seems to need a date for when she needs to find a new job by. I’m in no hurry to leave now. I can stay here for longer, until the entire book is done, perfecting it once it comes back from the editor. I’m in no hurry to rush back to New Orleans.
But I want very much for her to come back with me, at least for a while, to see the city I love. I’m not ready to let her go so fast. I didn’t plan for this, but now that I have her, I want her with me for as long as she wants to stay. I ask her.
“Come back with you to New Orleans?” She turns her face to look at me, but it’s not easy, given the way she’s resting against my chest.
I massage her soapy breasts, feel her nipples rise like pebbles. “Why not? I was going to courier the document to Rob, and in that week where I have nothing to do, why don’t you come back