Satisfaction Guaranteed(53)

My grin can’t be contained. “I did the same. I couldn’t take it anymore. I need you. I need you every night. I love you so damn much, and I can’t let you get away a second time.”

She throws her arms around my neck and threads her fingers in my hair, tugging me in for another soft kiss that quickly turns rough.

My tiger.

She is indeed.

“It’s the same for me,” she says, her voice nearly breaking. “I wanted to tell you I was in love with you. I wanted to say I didn’t want us to end. But then . . .”

“I was an idiot. I thought I couldn’t juggle it all. I thought I had to focus only on work.”

“I love what I do too . . . but I’ve been miserable without you. When we were together, it was never just about the sex for me. It was you, it was us—it was everything.”

My heart thunders in my chest, beating furiously, just for her. “It was never just sex for me either. Since the night I bumped into you on the street, I think I’ve been falling in love with you.”

“Not to one-up you, but I was falling in love with you seven years ago,” she says, her voice as soft as a feather, her gorgeous words rushing through my body.

“Show off,” I whisper.

“I’m just saying . . . you’re kind of the perfect man for me. I think I was always supposed to be yours.”

“You’re mine now. All mine. I’m not letting you get away ever again.”

She curls her hand tighter around the back of my head. “What are we going to do about your work concerns though? We do spend our days in the same space.”

I lean back against her hand. “A lot of people enjoy working together. I’ve loved every second of working with you. We fit. And it makes sense.” I laugh at my own pigheadedness. “It makes perfect sense to work together.”

She smiles from the inside of her soul. “You know what else makes perfect sense?” She tiptoes her fingers through my hair, dirty question marks in her eyes.

I uncurl her hand from my neck and tip my forehead to the door. “Finishing the rest of our unfinished business.”

Twenty minutes later, we’re at my place, the door slamming shut as we grab at each other.

Hands, lips, arms.

We tangle together, shedding clothes, keys, her purse in a flurry as we make our way to the bed. I tug her down on top of me, reaching for a condom on the nightstand when she clasps her hand over mine. “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.”

I groan. “Same here.”

I claim her mouth, kissing her, consuming her, touching her, stroking her decadent body everywhere till she’s so damn wet and ready.

She moves beneath me, opening her legs, and I nearly combust. The sight of her, ready to have me again, is spectacular.

I settle between her thighs, gliding the head of my cock through her slick heat, making her tremble, making her beg.

She arches her back and pleads, “Please. Now. I need you.”

If I’ve learned anything, it’s to listen to the woman. I sink inside her.

It’s heady and intense, and we fit together so damn well. Lifting her knees up higher, she opens herself more. I rock into her, swiveling my hips, thrusting deeper. Taking her hands in mine, I slide them above her head.

She arches her back. “Yes, like that. I love it like that.”

And we find our rhythm, find our pace. We discover each other as we lose ourselves in the pleasure, in the motion, in the sheer ecstasy of finally coming together like this.

She grabs my ass, pulling me deeper, breathing harder, louder.

I listen to her cues. They tell me to pick up the pace the slightest bit. To fuck her hard. To send her over the edge. That’s what she needs.

She cries out.

Yes.

So good.

I’m there.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

YESSSSSS.

She shudders from head to toe, and I’m consumed to the marrow with desire.

I’m done.

I follow her there, joining her in the blissful oblivion of release.

And savoring the prize too.

The medal, of course.

Not that there was a contest. But I have indeed successfully taken this woman to the summit of O Town, thank you very much.

Yup, I’m going to enjoy this moment at the top of the podium, and I’m also going to get her here every single time now that I know the path.

Soon she opens her eyes, smiling happily at me. “That reminds me.”

I prop my head in my hand. “Of what?”

“I made something for you. A little gift.” She hops out of bed, heads to the hall, and returns, clutching her purse and wearing an impish grin.

She dips her hand into her bag and tells me to close my eyes. I do as I’m told.

When she lets me open them, she’s standing at the foot of the bed, dangling a pair of purple socks. “For you. Put them on.”

Laughing, I sit up. “You want me to put them on now? To wear nothing but socks?”

“It’s sexy, you said.”

I shake my head. “It’s sexy on you. It’s not sexy on me.”

She turns the socks around, showing me the bottoms.

I crack up and nod. “Those . . . those I’ll put on.”

A minute later, I lie back in bed with the love of my life and the socks she made me on my feet, the words Satisfaction Guaranteed on my soles.