Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(63)
He crawled up the length of her while she shivered and panted and put her arms around him. “Condoms are in the bag across the room,” he said, but she heard a question there.
“It’s okay, it’s okay—” She’d barely gotten the repetition out before he nestled at her entrance, teased her mercilessly, and pushed himself so deep an embarrassing wail rent from her throat. No barrier between them to blunt the heat and friction of his entry. Already caught on the precipice as she was, it sent her over, and she bucked her hips against him to squeeze every drop of pleasure she could from his intrusion while he ground out curses that practically made her blush in the middle of an orgasm. And for some crazy damn reason, made her apologize over and over while he chuckled in her ear.
Jesus Christ. One thrust. She was pathetic for him.
“Oh hell, no. Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry,” he whispered against her ear. Slowly, he pulled from her almost to the tip and pushed back in, the silky slide along her hypersensitive flesh almost more than she could take. He was almost more than she could take. She clutched helplessly at him, tears squeezing from her eyes. Not sad tears. I just came so hard I pulled something tears. Maybe he wouldn’t see them, though he probably felt them as they trickled over her temples into his skin. If he did, he made no mention.
He only made love to her like he was trying to leave part of himself inside her, with his hands and kisses and words as intimate and passionate as his leisurely, rolling thrusts into her body. Deep, so deep. She’d been needing this as soon as she’d left him. He curled his fingers through the iron lattice of her headboard while she curled hers into his firm ass, feeling the bunch and release of muscle and the rising surge of pleasure he stoked with every movement. For him to make her come again after the first one would prove he was a miracle worker indeed, but damn if it wasn’t happening. And the squeaking of her bed, always an annoyance before, had never played such an erotic tune. Something else for her to remember once he was gone.
“If you don’t want it,” he growled in her ear, thrusts sharpening, “tell me now.”
Savannah locked her legs around him. He wasn’t going anywhere. “I want it, oh, God!” she panted as her entire world constricted to where he claimed her. His hands left her headboard to find her own, his fingers lacing through hers, gripping hard enough to crack her bones as she cried out in unison with him. Their mouths fused as he pushed to the hilt and throbbed inside her, holding deep while he came, filling her with his warmth and pulling her with him as every muscle in her body tightened at the pleasure tearing through her. It left her a sobbing, trembling mess, left her floating without a single thought or worry in her head as he kissed her gently back down to earth.
Since she still wore her nightshirt, he pushed it up her body to bare her breasts and lavish attention on them, her nipples still hard from that soul-wrecking explosion. Still, she craved his mouth on them, sucking, licking, soothing. She craved that mouth on her everywhere.
“I see your heart beating,” he murmured, and she looked to see his gaze locked on the fluttering pulse in her throat. He leaned in to hungrily kiss her there, sending shivers through her entire body. God, she could fall in love with him. Hell, had she not already done so, at least a little? She’d never let another man come inside her, not even when she was in committed relationships, despite being on birth control since she was eighteen. Why the level of trust and affection here was so off the charts that she wanted every part of him, she couldn’t fathom.
She felt his heart beating as well in the way his chest was pressed to hers. Maybe it was a stupid romantic notion, but she thought they almost beat the same rhythm.
Slowly, she was able to relax her grip on him, not minding at all when he took his new freedom to rain kisses all the way down her stomach.
“Gonna find this f*cking heart today,” he muttered, and she burst out laughing, sliding a hand down her face. He was still determined to locate her last elusive heart tattoo.
“You know,” she confessed, “it was sort of a thing I did to determine who I was going to marry. Just to warn you.”
His head raised, but if there was any alarm in him at all, he didn’t show it. “Oh, yeah?”
“I was a little drunk. And heartbroken. It’s probably stupid. But I thought, if someone can find all four of them, then he would know every inch of me.”
Mike’s hand stroked a strand of hair away from the corner of her eyes. “I’ll never understand how anyone could break your heart.”
You could, she thought, but couldn’t bring herself to say it. Because he might try to deny it . . . and he would be lying. “Yes, well . . . he did.”
“Did you want to marry him?”
“I thought I did at the time.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Four years.”
“Pretty young to want to get married.”
“I guess.” Now that it was all over and done with, she could look back on the fond memories Grant had left her with, memories that weren’t so eclipsed by the outrage of finding out her boyfriend was cheating on her with one of her friends. It was one instance she could think of when Tommy had wanted to step in and kick someone’s ass on her behalf. She’d managed to rein him in; Tommy probably would have put Grant in the hospital. “I guess that was my most serious relationship. What about you? Ever come close?”