Rescuing the Bad Boy (Second Chance #2)(50)

“Here.” A small foil packet was pressed to his chest.

She reached for his pants and pushed them down his hips. He let her. She freed him from his boxers next. Her hand wrapped around him again, stroking once, twice, while he tore the foil packet open with his teeth, a shake working down both of his arms. He clasped her wrist with one hand, pulled her hand off his cock, and kissed the inside of her wrist.

“Trying to make this last, Scampi. You’re not helping.” He let go of her to roll on the condom, worrying for an insane second he may have forgotten how to do it. He hadn’t.

Thank God for small favors.

Grasping her butt cheeks with both hands, he pulled her closer, her ass squeaking along the washer’s lid. Her breathing had increased with the same anticipation firing through his bloodstream at the speed of sound.

He watched her breasts lift and fall, lift and fall. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you naked.” He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was the truth. Every inch of her was perfect… at least, the inches he could see. Should have laid her down in a bed where he could strip her completely bare, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

And, yeah, he was the beggar in this situation. Taking whatever she was willing to give.

“Compliments are not necessary,” she told him. “I’ve already said yes.”

He wasn’t feeding her a line, but now wasn’t the time for that conversation.

He lifted her foot and eased her out of her panties, leaving her dressed on one side. As he lined up with her entrance, she fisted the back of his hair, her green eyes trained on him. In the still moment between them, his heart raced.

“Straight through,” she whispered.

He tilted his hips and plunged deep inside her.

The surprised, satisfied sound from her was an elixir, bathing him, healing him. He didn’t have to ask, he knew from that reverent sound she liked how he felt. From the sound, her pink cheeks, her open mouth, and the way her short nails bit into the muscles in his shoulders.

Subtly, she stiffened, and he knew he’d lost her mind and attention. Maybe she was remembering another moment similar to this one. The last time they’d done this.

Pulsing, and in too deep to dream of pulling out, he tightened his arm around her waist and waited for it. Waited for an accusation, for her to call him on his crap from years ago.

“Say it,” he commanded.

Her unfocused gaze met his. “I forgot how big you were.” Her fingers lovingly stroked his jaw and sifted into his hair, pushing it away from his cheek.

When he smiled, so did she, the slightly crooked tilt taking him back to the very first time he touched his mouth to hers. Dipped his tongue into the curve of her top lip.

Not able to keep from it, he kissed her there now. “I’m trying to hold out, Scampi. This. Is not. Helping.”

He pulled out and eased into her again. The feeling so consuming, he wondered if he’d be able to hold out at all. Pursing her lips, she let out a little “ooh” sound, also not helping.

“Good. So good.” She bit her bottom lip.

Concentrating, he tightened every muscle in his body to the point of pain.

“Was it ever this good? Ever?” She sounded like she was asking herself that question, but he knew the answer. No. No was the answer. He’d had a lot of girls in his bed in the blurry years before he’d slept with her, and yeah, on a purely physical level, sex had been satisfying. But now, nestled between Sofie’s thighs, “satisfying” was a lame descriptor.

What they were doing was mind-melting. Knee-exploding. Tendon-tearing.

Or it would be if he didn’t loosen the muscles in his legs.

His cock tingled at the tip and he clenched his ass cheeks. Hold out. Hold out. Come on, boy. Through teeth he was grinding into pea gravel, he managed, “I mean it, Scampi. Talk about something else if you want this to last at all.”

“I want it to.” Her voice was as tender as her touch, her fingers running from his earlobe, down his jaw, and ending at his chin. She kissed his bottom lip. “Please, I want it to.”

A shiver having nothing to do with the fact she was wrapping him tight in every way possible worked its way down his spine. That shiver was the reason he’d taken her home the first time. The reason behind it one he’d ignored back then, pretending not to recognize what it meant.

Not many women in his life had given a damn about him. His mother left when he was three, probably to get away from Robert, and really, who could blame her? Gertrude saw what she wanted to see, and ignored the rest. Most of the chicks Donovan had taken to his bed didn’t give a damn about him. They wanted what he wanted. To use him up, get a quick fix, and move on.

Then there was Scampi. She didn’t want to use them for anything. She cared about him, cared about what he said, how he felt about things, his opinion. The night of the Christmas party when he approached her, she’d given him a shy smile. He couldn’t remember another time a girl had given him a shy smile.

When she came with him to the mansion, allowed him to take her inside, kissed him back, and finally allowed him to enter her… she blew his mind.

And by “blew his mind” he meant “freaked him the f*ck out.” It wasn’t hard to figure out she was a virgin. She was tight. She was tense. She’d held her breath and scrunched her eyes.