A Price Worth Paying - By Trish Morey Page 0,46

your eyes when you come.’

She fought the compulsion to close her eyes and go with the sensation and did as he commanded, panting hard, opening her eyes to his darkly intent gaze. His brow was slick with sweat, his features achingly tight, and the need she saw so clearly etched upon his straining face only magnified the pressure of what he was doing to her and how he felt inside her and she knew she was on the very cusp of losing herself.

‘Alesander,’ she gasped, her fingers curled into his muscled flesh before she tipped over the edge and with one final thrust he drove himself home.

Dios, she was tight! She exploded around him like fireworks, muscles contracting in the most intimate of massages, and it was all he could do to grit his teeth and hang on. He wasn’t ready for this to be over just yet.

He waited for her to wind down, whispering kisses over slick skin that glowed like satin in the moonlight. ‘Better now?’ he asked, his lips gliding over the shell-like curves of her ear. ‘Feeling more relaxed?’

She nodded. ‘Mmm,’ she murmured. ‘Lovely.’

‘Excellent,’ he said, slowly pulling back, waiting at the brink before powering back in. Her eyes opened—wide.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he drew back again.

‘Giving you more of what you want.’

‘Oh,’ she said, surprise and a little wonder turning to delight in her eyes. ‘Oh!’ she cried, as he plunged to the hilt inside her, groaning at the feel of her hot body, a tight sheath around him as he pumped. He would not last long like this. There was no way …

He heard her cry out, a wild sound of release, before his own was rent from him, the note raw and savage and wrenched from a place deep inside—some place he’d never known existed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘I BROUGHT YOU COFFEE.’

Simone blinked, still half asleep and only half understanding what she’d heard. Something about coffee? And sure enough, the scent of freshly brewed coffee seemed to flavour air that was otherwise heavily laden with sex. Hardly surprising given they’d spent more time making love last night than sleeping.

But really, coffee? The man was built like a god, made love as if he actually cared that his partner climaxed, and he made coffee for her instead of demanding a beer?

She snuggled back into her pillow. She really must be dreaming.

‘How are you feeling?’

Her eyes snapped open. How am I what? He was freshly showered and wearing crisp, fresh clothes—another of those tops that skimmed the surface of his skin and made you want to peel it off, and trousers that accentuated the long lean contours of his legs—and he really was pouring her a cup of coffee. She sat up, snagging the bedding over her breasts, and pushed hair gone wild back from her face.

Outside, the windows the bay sparkled under a warm sun, a perfect autumn day. Inside her barometer wasn’t anywhere near as controlled.

‘I’m—’ shattered ‘—okay,’ she said, knowing she must look closer to the word she’d left unsaid. After the night they’d just spent, she couldn’t imagine what kind of mess she looked.

‘I thought you might be feeling tender. It was wrong of me to make love to you again this morning,’ he said, as easily as he might have asked her if she wanted milk in her coffee. ‘I should have given you some time.’

‘I’m not … I wasn’t …’

‘A virgin? No, I know, but it’s clear you haven’t had much experience.’

‘I have had sex before, you know. Several times. A lot of times, actually.’ She’d even had the odd orgasm before, although admittedly she’d had to assist, so hadn’t last night been a revelation? ‘I told you I’d been in a relationship.’

He smiled at that. ‘Oh yes. The boyfriend. I remember.’ He sipped his coffee as he looked out over the view of the bay. ‘Perhaps he wasn’t as experienced.’

God, he wasn’t as well endowed, more like it! She stared at her coffee rather than at him, so she wouldn’t be forced to make any more comparisons, beyond the width of their shoulders, or the muscled firmness of their flesh, for instance. She shrugged and slanted her eyes up, feeling his eyes on her, knowing she was expected to say something. ‘He wasn’t put together quite the same as you, that’s all.’

He smiled at her over his shoulder. ‘They say size isn’t important.’

Oh, they’re so very wrong.

And then she made the mistake of looking at the clock and