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My eyes traced her curves, each one magnified, exaggerated by the stretch of her body. Her shoulders high and tight. Her heavy breasts bouncing with every revolution of her hips. The smooth trough from her ribs to the bend in her waist. The grand swell of her ass. I reached for that swell, held it in my palm, let my hand ride the rhythm of her body.

Faster she moved, tighter she held, her nails abrading my skin, her ass bouncing. Her face pinched, her eyes closed tight, her face turned to the side, covered by her hair. I traced her jaw, swept her hair away, and for the briefest moment, she opened her eyes. Fear was there, but when she met my gaze, when she saw me, it dissipated, softened her face, arched her back, gave her peace in her pleasure.

She lost herself wholly, committed completely. She took my hand and laid it on her breast, rolled her hips faster until her ass slapped my thighs. And she came, squeezing me so tight, I couldn’t breathe. Gasping and writhing, she came to me, mewling and grinding. She came for me, wanted me to see her, wanted me to watch.

She granted me the gift of her fearlessness, of her brazen desire.

As she slowed, I sat, sweeping her up by the face and the neck to kiss her, to pull her into my body, to tell her I saw her. I understood. I wanted. I needed.

My arm hooked around her waist to flip her over, but she shifted in the opposite direction, stopping me. With her palm on my chest, she pushed me to lie down again, still astride me, riding me gently, knees buried in the bed, nestled into my ribs. Her hands trailed up her body, over her breasts, up her neck, into her hair, stretching the lines of her body out like art.

Once again, her hands braced my chest, and with a mournful shift of her hips, she released me.

Her smile said to trust her. And I did, though my hands sought every inch of skin they could touch.

I didn’t realize what she was doing until it was nearly done. In a breath, she was straddling me again, though this time backward.

Her palms found my thighs, her feet tucked into my sides, her ass—God, that ass—in front of me. My hands were full of it, pulling her cheeks apart to feast my eyes upon the puckered hollow, the fluttering flesh beneath, her swollen lips. Her hips rose higher, and my hand slid to my cock, hooking the base, raising it to meet her.

Once again, she slipped the tip of me into her heat. Once again, she lowered her hips.

But this time, I could see everything.

She swallowed me whole, her skin pink and slick. Her ass spilling from my hands, the slap of our skin, the force I pulled her down on me. The vision of my body joining her body, of entering her, of her holding me, the hourglass of her body and the gentle moans in time to every thrust, every wave, every motion as we came together and fell apart.

Noisily, I breathed. Tightly, I held her. Deeply, I drove into the center of her until I reached the end. The end of her. The end of me. The end of my composure and the end of my will.

I came with a thundering pulse, hard and hot and blinding as she whispered her yeses in sighs and cries, and I moved her body at the speed mine needed.

And then I slowed her, settled deep in her. She shifted her hips side to side. I felt every movement from tip to root.

I sat, bringing my chest to her back, winding my arms around her waist, laying kisses across her shoulders, her spine, the base of her neck when she arched into me. But it wasn’t enough.

Shifting, I rolled us, pulling out of her in the same motion. I held her against me as I lowered us onto the bed. Our legs tangled. Arms hooking and hands searching. And we kissed, skin to skin, heart to heart.

It was a long time before we slowed, a long time before we were sated.

For a moment, I just looked down into her face, and she looked up into mine.

This was what it felt like. Intimacy. I’d known so many women, known their bodies. But I’d never known body and soul. Mind and heart. They amplified every physical touch, threaded every breath with something deeper, something more.

I should have been afraid. I realized it distantly, like a light on the horizon, a curiosity.

But I wasn’t afraid. Not of her. Not of my own heart or feelings. Because it was as I’d told her—I didn’t do things even halfway. I went all in.

And now that I knew what I wanted, I committed completely.

There was no choice. Only fact. And the path before me was simple.

When she closed her eyes and pulled me in for another kiss, I knew I wouldn’t miss a single step.





28





Make a Wish





Sam

The music bounced. We bounced. The whole world bounced with us.

I spun Val out and tugged to bring her back to me. Spinning and laughing and perfect and mine. The second I could reach her, I grabbed her ribs in one hand and her hand in the other, pulling her around with our hips and feet in perfect, harmonious time.

The club was hopping. Literally hopping, a sea of heads bobbing around us to the music. All except for one.

Ian stood near the edge of the crowd, eyes narrowed and locked on me.

On us.

I’d been ignoring his bitchy attitude all night, the snapping commands he’d thrown out during our set, the scathing looks that had been strikingly similar to the one he was directing at me right then. I found myself glaring back at him. But only for a second.

Then I remembered the girl in my arms and forgot all about Ian.

Mostly.

The song ended, and we stopped to offer our applause.