From This Moment On (The Sullivans #2)(27)

Sweet lord, he never wanted it to end. He never wanted to forget the way she pulled away from their kiss so that her sweat-slickened body could buck and arch over his as she continued to ride out her release. He never wanted to forget the desperate little sounds she made as she kissed him, gasps that turned into moans. He never wanted to forget the beautiful sounds of her begging for more of his touches, his kisses, for him to take her all the way over the edge.

But he already knew he would never forget those sounds, the incredible sight of the most beautiful girl in the world losing herself to pleasure in his arms.

Finally, she stilled above him, her taut muscles now loose and pliant, her head dropping to his chest. She was panting and he could feel her lungs working hard to pull in air as she lay across him. Even though he was still fully clothed—and rock hard—he loved the way she curled and nuzzled against him.

Still, he’d have to let her recover from that orgasm another time. Because he wasn’t even close to being finished worshipping her. She’d have the rest of her life to recover from tonight. They both would.

From now until the sun came up, she was his.

Giving her no warning, he flipped her onto her back and rose over her stunningly beautiful naked body.

She blinked up at him, her gaze momentarily fuzzy. But then she smiled and said, “You’re wearing too many clothes."

Her hands moved from around his neck to the buttons of his shirt as she worked to undo them. The soft touch of her fingers skimming across his chest had his heart pounding even faster. Her tongue came out to lick her upper lip as she concentrated on undressing him and he couldn’t possibly have stopped himself from bending down to taste it.

As soon as his tongue touched hers, she opened her mouth for him and that simple need to taste her tongue became another soul-destroying kiss.

He could have kissed her like that forever, had the sound of fabric ripping not surprised him into pulling back. She’d ripped his shirt apart and where the buttons hadn’t been able to come undone fast enough, the cotton had actually shredded.

The next thing he knew, she was dropping his ripped shirt from her clenched fists and running her hands over his abs. Her hands on his bare skin were good. So damn good. But he should have known it was going to get even better, because a split second later, she leaned up to nip at his chest. His muscles twitched beneath her teeth as her tongue came out to lave the small bite.

“I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” she whispered against his chest as she pressed one naughty kiss after another across his skin while her hands moved lower.

He sucked in a breath between his teeth as she closed her palm around him, first tentatively, growing bolder as she felt him thicken even further inside her warm clasp. Gritting his teeth against the intense pleasure of her caresses, he made himself remind her, “Slow and easy, so that I don’t hurt you.”

Her gaze flew to his. “You would never hurt me.”

Her trust in him landed straight in the center of his chest, in a place he’d thought was closed off for the foreseeable future. It was the same place that had reacted when she’d fallen asleep on his lap, when she’d appeared shy and fresh-faced in the kitchen, when she’d been laughing with the boy and girl who loved her music.

He didn’t know how she was doing it, how she was managing to get in under his skin, his bones, all the way down to a heart that knew better. He should have been looking at her as Nico the pop star. He should have been reminding himself that she was going to move on after tonight and forget about him amidst her world of flashbulbs and adoring fans.

She didn’t need him. Not past this one night, in any case.

Marcus would never forgive himself if he ended the night needing her.

More than a little angry with himself for an ending that was starting to seem more inevitable by the second, he abruptly moved away from the bed to step out of his pants. He needed a few seconds of not touching her to get his brain to start functioning properly again.

Her eyes widened. “You’re beautiful, Marcus.”

He knew he had a good physique and plenty of women had looked at him like this before, but it had never affected him so strongly. Maybe because no one had ever looked up at him with such wonder.

Or such trust.

* * *

Nicola couldn’t do anything but stare.

His body, his muscles—his incredibly beautiful face—made a mockery of any sculpture Rodin had ever made.

And even though she’d known he was big, without his clothes on he was huge, his muscles rippling as if he did manual labor for a living.

Somewhere in there, she realized he’d slid a condom on and was saying, “Just because I’ve put this on doesn’t mean we have to do anything that you’re not ready for.”

She’d loved following his lead tonight, but not if it meant he was going to leave out of some strange sense of honor because she “wasn’t ready” to be with a man like him. She didn’t like how he was still standing beside the bed, his hands in fists as if he was trying his best not to touch her again.

Nicola didn’t wait another second—couldn’t risk waiting for him to change his mind—before moving off the bed to jump into his arms, her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. Loosening her arms a little bit, she let gravity help her sink down onto him.

“No, Nicola, not like this. Not yet.”