Unforgettable (Cloverleigh Farms #5)(38)

I had barely caught my breath when he moved up my body, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. If it were anyone else, I might have been self-conscious—but I wasn’t. For once, it hadn’t even occurred to me to worry that I didn’t taste right or wasn’t wearing the perfect underwear or moved too much or not enough. I never once contemplated faking an orgasm just so I could stop being so anxious and try to enjoy myself more. With Tyler, I felt at ease with my body and everything he was doing to it.

And good lord, he was hot. I didn’t know where to look, between the hair and the eyes and the jaw and the shoulders and the chest and the abs. He braced himself on his hands above my shoulders, and I ran my palms down his arms and up his chest. “I love your body. I never saw it that night.”

He kissed my cheek, my shoulder, my collarbone. “That’s because I didn’t even bother to take my clothes off.”

“Nope, it was minimum nakedness, that’s for sure.”

“Sit up.”

I did as he asked, and he removed my blouse, unhooked my bra with an easy flick of his fingers, and tossed both aside. Then he gently pushed me back again and looked down at me. “Good thing I didn’t get you naked that night. I could come just looking at you.”

My core muscles tightened. “Tyler. Take off those fucking pants.”

His hands were on the zipper before I even finished the sentence.





Eleven





Tyler





I’d been wrong—she didn’t taste like cherry ice cream with amaretto sauce. She tasted better.

And the flavor of her was still on my tongue as I put my mouth all over her body. I loved the sounds she made, the way she moved, the feel of her skin against mine.

I went slow, just like I’d planned, but I knew it was only a matter of time until I lost control. Something about her just made me want to get inside her—I didn’t know whether it was her scent or her taste, her hot little moans or her deep-throated cries, the gorgeous red hair spilling over the pillow or the alabaster skin flushed pink with heat.

Christ, she was beautiful.

And the way she touched me, a little shyly, like she’d always wanted to but never dared—her hands running over my chest and back, my stomach and arms, and finally wrapping around my cock—with that bottom lip caught between her teeth and her eyes open wide. Like she couldn’t believe this was real.

We tipped to our sides, and I groaned against her lips as she stroked me, soft and playful at first, her fingertips brushing over my crown, then harder and faster, her fist tight around my shaft. I ran my hand along the curve of her hip, up between her thighs, slipped my fingers inside her again. God, I wanted to be there. I needed it, and I couldn’t wait a second longer.

“Wait,” I told her. I rolled away from her and hurried into the bathroom, where I’d seen at least two condoms in my travel kit earlier. They’d been in there a while, mocking me, but now I thanked Jesus I hadn’t taken them out.

And if Jesus didn’t approve of what I was doing, he could look the other way.

I took both condoms back to the bed, tossed one on the nightstand, tore open the packet of the second, and rolled it on. My heart was thundering in my chest.

April was on her side, chin resting on her fist, watching me. “Are you going to wear both?” she asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it. I only have the two, and I figured we’d save one for later.”

She arched a brow. “Pretty optimistic of you.”

I jumped back into bed, and she squealed as I flipped her onto her back, circled her wrists with my fingers, and held them tight to the mattress. “You trying to turn me back into a grumpy old man?”

“No!” She shook her head violently. “Please let me keep this Tyler. He’s hot. And sexy.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And he has a really big dick that’s going to do deliciously naughty things to me.”

“You got that right.” I eased inside her and began to move, fighting for control. If I wasn’t careful, I’d explode like a teenager in under a minute.

Her eyes fluttered shut and she turned her face to the side as I plunged in deeper, her mouth dropping open.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Just keep going slow for a minute, okay?”

“Okay.” I did as she asked, watching her discomfort subside and her desire take over. Her back began to arch. Her gasps turned to sighs. Her hands traveled down my back and over my ass, pulling me in deeper. When her hips began to rock beneath mine, I knew she was getting close.

“Tell me how you want me to fuck you.” I spoke low in her ear, my voice ragged with the fight for control. “Do you like it deep? Hard?”

“Yes,” she said, holding out the s in a long hiss. “Yes, I like it deep and hard. Just like that,” she rasped as I started to move with more muscle, more aggression. She cried out with every savage thrust, and I couldn’t get enough—of her tight, wet pussy, of the smell of sex, of the sound of the headboard banging against the wall.

Take that, asshole! I have stamina too!

God, it felt so fucking good to command my body and have it obey. To experience that surge of power and pleasure that came from peak physical performance. To work up this agonizing tension and know the release was right fucking there, and it was going to deliver the way it was supposed to—for both of us. I hadn’t been in this place for so long, so long.