I Only Have Eyes for You (The Sullivans #4)(51)

“This.”

Sophie bit down on his earlobe just as she impaled herself on him.

“Now,” she said on a gasp, “it’s perfect.”

Finally, he was able to give in to the shocking pleasure of kissing the sweetest mouth he’d ever tasted. Lips so soft, so warm, as they parted and aroused, taking and giving in equal measure. He could feel her strength, her lithe muscles as she wrapped herself tighter around him and used the strength in her thighs to ride him in the water.

He’d thought she was too fragile, too easily breakable for him, for his needs, for his past. But she met every thrust in equal measure, met every stroke of his hand across her gorgeous skin with her hands on him.

For so long he’d wanted her, and every time they came together he only wanted her more. He’d never get enough of her passion, the way she all but vibrated with desire in his arms as she opened herself up to him.

He’d told himself he didn’t need anyone, and especially not her. But he’d been wrong. A liar of epic proportions.

Because there was nobody he needed more. No one who would ever fill his heart—and soul—the way this beautiful woman in his arms always had.

She lowered her head to his shoulder, her lips and tongue and teeth moving against his skin. He could feel how fast, how frantic her heart was beating against his. He had to grip her hips tighter, had to hold her closer as he drove deeper inside her warmth, coming closer and closer to heaven with every stroke of hard flesh against soft.

She gasped out his name and as their combined sounds of ecstasy rebounded off the swimming pool’s walls, unbelievable pleasure blurred with pure love and became one and the same.

Chapter Nineteen

Sophie woke up sprawled across Jake in his bed. Her head was resting right over his breastbone, his heart a strong, steady beat in her ear. She vaguely remembered curling up against him after they came back from the pool and falling asleep, but at some point in the middle of the night, she must have wanted to get closer, and just climbed on top of him.

Not, she figured, that he minded being her new mattress much, if the enormous erection pressing into her stomach was any indication. That made two of them who didn’t mind it, she thought, as all that hard male muscle beneath her quickly brought her from sleepy to aroused in a matter of seconds.

For all the years she’d dreamed of being in bed with Jake, those visions had always been of Jake touching her, Jake kissing her, Jake making love to her. Yesterday at the pool had been the first time she’d ever taken the lead with sex.

She’d loved it. But even more than that, she’d loved the way he’d begun to share pieces of himself with her the previous night. Their physical connection was undeniable. Could their emotional connection become just as strong, too?

Was there a chance that Jake would keep letting her in, bit by bit, until he actually shared his whole heart—and soul—with her?

She ran her fingertips over the strong muscles of his shoulder, tracing the veins and sinews just below the surface of his skin. Sophie feathered her fingers from collarbone to bicep, wanting to memorize Jake from feel alone, already putting together a mental map of his masculine perfection. She was also glad for the chance, at long last, to really study the tattoos on his tanned skin. What, she wondered, did each one of them mean? Jake wasn’t a man who did anything without a reason, and she couldn’t imagine the tattoos had been painless. Regardless of how tough he acted, he was flesh and blood like anyone else.

Being able to touch Jake at her leisure like this was such a gift. But it wasn’t nearly enough to whet her suddenly ravenous appetite for more. She didn’t just want to know the contours of his body with her hands, she wanted to feel them all against her lips, wanted to know the taste of him on her tongue.

She shifted her head so that she could press her lips to his breastbone. His body was so solid, so strong. He smelled so good and he tasted even better, still faintly covered in the chlorine from the swimming pool. She shifted again, just enough to lift her head from his chest so that she could lick him, barely managing to hold back a moan of pleasure as she laved his slightly salty skin. No wonder men were so fixated on women’s br**sts. Already, she was an addict, could spend hours with her mouth on him, her tongue, her teeth all vying for superiority.

Slowly shifting her weight, she moved her legs to either side of his hips and let her weight fall to her knees on the mattress so that she could kneel above him and feast her eyes. That was when she realized his dark eyes weren’t closed.

“You’re awake?”

His mouth curved into a sexy smile. “Do you actually think there’s a guy alive who could sleep through that?” His hands curved over her backside, gently squeezing the soft flesh there. “I’ve been awake since you made me your body pillow a couple of hours ago.” He chased his words with the slow drag of his hands from her hips to her waist.

“Poor baby. I should make those sleepless hours up to you, shouldn’t I?”

His eyes lit with surprise—and heat—at her soft words, just a beat before his fingertips skimmed the bottom of her rib cage and his hands curved over her br**sts. She wanted to keep focusing on him, on the heady adventure of exploring his body, but when he touched her like that she couldn’t keep her spine from arching her deeper into his hands. His shaft was hugely erect between her thighs and her body moved into position over it as though they were connected by magnets, so that she could glide over him, back and forth, until her breath was coming fast.