Billionaire's Contract Engagement (Kings of the Boardroom #3)(39)

He tucked his finger underneath the lace of her panties and ran it along the edge until he delved into her hot, liquid heat. She leaned back, closed her eyes and moaned as he grew bolder with his exploration.

The sensation of his hands rasping lightly over her behind as he cupped her and began to slide her underwear off was enough to drive her beyond endurance. She had to have him. Her nerve endings were fried.

And then she was naked under his seeking gaze and inquisitive fingers. He stroked and caressed until she was a mass of gasping, breathless anticipation.

“No fair,” she panted. “You still have clothes on.”

He gave her a faint smile before quickly shedding his clothing. Then he dropped to his knees in front of the dresser. His hands slid sensuously up her legs, setting fire with the barest of touches.

Her breath caught and held when he parted her thighs and pressed his mouth to her most intimate flesh.

“Oh…”

It was all she could manage. Everything went fuzzy around her. Swimming. She was swimming in the most exquisite, mind-numbing waters she’d ever navigated.

The man was talented. He was generous. Even when he was pushed to his limits, he brought her to the brink of ecstasy before satisfying his own needs.

“Evan, please!”

He rose up, gripped her knees and yanked her forward until she perched precariously on the edge of the dresser again. There was savage menace in his expression, the look of a man pushed too far too fast and struggling to hold on with everything he had.

He paused only long enough to roll on a condom and then he found her center and plunged deep.

His hands slid under her bottom, gripped tight and pulled her to meet his thrusts. He was deep and she felt him in every part of her soul. She ended, he began. He was a part of her, taking, giving and sharing.

He leaned forward to bury his face in her neck as he rocked against her. Lightning sizzled down her spine as he nuzzled her sensitive skin and suckled the column of her neck.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him until there wasn’t an inch of space between them. Still buried tightly inside her, he lifted her up and backed toward the bed. He fell, her on top, and they landed with a jolt.

“Ride me,” he said in a strained voice.

His pupils dilated and his brow constricted. Tight lines were etched into his forehead, and his hands gripped her hips so tightly that she could do nothing more than squeeze her inner muscles around his erection.

“Sweat heaven,” he groaned.

She wasn’t going to last, and she was helpless to do anything about it. She needed to move. She had to move.

Placing her palms flat on his chest, she wiggled free of his grasp and began to move up and down, taking him, releasing him, then taking him again.

Sweat beaded his brow. His eyes were narrow slits, and he never took his gaze from hers. He urged her closer so he could cup her br**sts. They filled both palms and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the painfully erect nubs.

“I can’t hold on,” she whispered.

“Then let’s go together,” he urged.

His hands left her br**sts and he gripped her hips, lifting her and pulling her down in time with his upward thrusts. The burn spread. Tension mounted. She wound tighter and tighter until it was all she could do to hang on.

She threw her head back, her mouth open in an endless cry of agony. The sweetest, most breathtaking agony of her life.

His hands left her hips to tangle in her hair. He rose up, pulling her harshly to meet his kiss. Frantically, his hands moved up and down her back, into her hair, through her hair, over her face as if he couldn’t get enough and wanted to memorize every feature.

And then it was as if the world went silent. The wave rolled, crashed and then broke into a million tiny ripples, each feeding the other.

She was no longer cognizant of holding on to him. She was riding high and fast.

She had no idea how long she lay sprawled over Evan, her heart beating so frantically that she literally felt each thud. His arms were wrapped around her, and their legs were all tangled up. He was still buried inside her, and she could feel the remnants of his orgasm. Each little pulse sent a tiny shock of aftermath flooding through her body.

Slowly she became aware that he was stroking her back and her hair. He murmured little sweet words in her ear but nothing seemed to make sense. She was completely befuddled by this man, by her reaction to him.

“I think I blew it again.”

She smiled and snuggled a little closer, tucking her head under his chin and nuzzling his chest.

“You blew, all right. But I think I blew first.”

His chest heaved as he chuckled. “You’re such a naughty girl.”

Summoning energy she sorely lacked, she raised her head and propped up on his chest so she could stare down into his eyes. What she saw sent a pang of longing straight through her heart.

He looked content. Sated, but not just in a sexual way. He looked at home, like they’d been together forever. Oh, she had an overactive imagination. She was sure of that. But when he looked at her like that, with the world in his eyes, a world where only she existed, it was hard not to get caught up in the fantasy they’d created between them.

He ran a gentle finger over her mouth. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m fairly certain a man should never ask a woman what she’s thinking right after sex,” she said lightly.