Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(51)

“Okay,” I said, setting the clean sauce pan back on the stove. “I just need a couple minutes to—”

But then I couldn’t speak, because Ellie’s arms suddenly twined around my waist, her hands slipping beneath my untucked shirt. I went completely still.

Her palms slid over my abs, making them clench. I swallowed, still unable to find words. Was this a dream?

“Gianni,” she said, her voice low and breathy.

My cock surged to life at the sound of my name on her lips. I tried to swallow again and couldn’t. “Yeah?”

“Remember last night when you asked me if I ever wanted to just rip someone’s clothes off and go at it?”

Oh, fuck. “Yeah?”

Her hand moved down over the growing bulge in my jeans. “Now I know the feeling.”

I spun around so fast I knocked the pan to the floor, and it banged loudly against the wood. But Ellie was already dragging the shirt over my head and reaching for the button on my jeans. As soon as I yanked her sweatshirt off her body, our mouths came together in a searing hot kiss punctuated by breathless panting and the frantic tearing off of our clothing. Everything happened in a blur of hot, panicked need. Her hand around my cock. My fingers in her pussy. Her tongue in my mouth. Her fist in my hair. I felt possessed by the urge to get inside her, like the clock was ticking down those seven minutes and I was never going to have the chance again. She’d never let me do this again. I’d never be this close to her again. It was all now, now, now.

She winced when I moved her backward toward the bed, and I remembered her bad ankle. I lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around me. But instead of placing her on the mattress, I turned toward the wall next to the stove and put her back against it. And without stopping to think, I pushed inside her.

She cried out with every deep, powerful thrust, her nails clawing at my back. I buried my face in her neck and my cock in her body and lost every ounce of control I’d ever had. I knew I should stop, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. God help me, I didn’t want to. The feeling of being inside her with no barrier, nothing between us, was so incredible I actually didn’t even fucking care what the consequences might be. I just wanted to be that close to her. I wanted to fill her body with mine. I wanted to do something I’d never done before—and I’d never had sex without protection, ever—and share something with her I’d never shared with anyone and fuck, fuck, fuck, it was so good and she was so hot and she wanted me, she wanted me badly enough to give in like this, and move like that, and make those sounds and say those words . . .

“Don’t stop,” she begged, her breath hot on my lips. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop . . .”

I cursed and groaned and fucked her harder, so hard I was afraid I’d hurt her or we’d take out the wall or possibly shake the foundations of the Pineview Motel so violently the whole place would be reduced to rubble and we’d die here.

I did not want to die here.

But I didn’t want to stop either.

“Fuck!” I spun around and moved toward the bed, where I deposited her onto her back. “Don’t move.”

“Hurry,” she panted.

I ran over to my bag and tore open the new box of condoms. As I rolled one on, the touch of my own fingers threatened to push me over the edge, and I prayed she was as close as I was. Vaulting onto the bed from where I stood, I stretched out above her.

She wrapped her arms and legs around me, her lips parting, her breath quick and shallow. I lowered my mouth to hers as I eased inside her again, thinking the condom was probably a good thing—maybe the barrier would take away just enough sensation to grant me an extra minute or two before I lost control.

This time, instead of pounding inside her like a maniac, I went a little slower, reveling in the feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips. If I never had this with her again, I wanted to remember every little detail.

The way she rocked her hips beneath mine. The way she clung to my shoulders. The way the dark, damp strands of her hair spilled onto the pillow. The soft whispers, the sharp cries, her head falling back, the arch of her spine, the tightening of her body around my driving cock.

And then I couldn’t hold back anymore, and the room went silver as I plunged into her again and again, until I was empty and breathless, nothing but hammering heart and shuddering muscles and warm, tingling skin.

“Good idea.” Her voice was muffled, and I realized it was because her face was buried under my chest.

I lifted my upper body off her. “This was your idea.”

“I meant about the condom,” she panted.

“Oh. That. Yeah.” I still couldn’t catch my breath, and I wasn’t sure if it was from exertion or from the way her warm brown eyes were looking up at me with actual affection.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“Me neither, at least not at first. I was in shock.”

“I bet.” She laughed. “I figured that would surprise you.”

“It did. I thought you said—”

“I changed my mind.”

“What was it, the ice? The sweatshirts? The cooking?”

“It wasn’t anything in particular. I just thought it would be fun.” She pushed against my chest. “And it was, but let me up now.”