It Must Be Your Love (The Sullivans #11)(72)

She put her hands over his and took them both on a slow slide over her skin, from thighs to hips, from hips to stomach, until they were cupping the undersides of her br**sts together.

“God, I love that you’re a guitar player,” she told him in a shaky voice as his calloused fingertips scratched and scraped over both of her ni**les at the same time.

She arched into their combined touch, letting him know with her own hands that she wanted more, that she wanted everything he needed to give her.

Where whispered endearments had once fallen from his lips, all he needed to say to her now was, “I love you, baby. So damned much. And I need you to show me how you want me to make you come. Now.”

Her hips were already lifted for his touch by the time she drew his right hand back down from her br**sts to the damp and needy flesh between her thighs. And when he touched her exactly where she needed to be touched—his calloused fingertips sliding in the most deliciously dirty way over, and then inside, of her—Mia instantly shattered.

His fingers played in a perfect rhythm of pleasure over her damp flesh until she stopped trembling. And though the force of her climax should have drained every last ounce of energy from her, she’d never felt more powerful as she quickly shifted on the blankets so that she was straddling his hips.

She had no idea where he’d gotten this second condom from, but was beyond thankful that he already had one on as she lowered herself down over him, one glorious inch at a time.

“How’d you know this was going to be the next fantasy on my list?”

She loved the way he teased her even as they passionately loved each other. Five years ago, there had been no laughter during sex. Yes, they’d had incredible heat, but back then, they were quickly kindled flames rather than a slow and steady burn that could be trusted not to go out.

“Something tells me pretty much everything is on your fantasy list,” she teased back.

“Only one way to find out,” he said as he flipped them back around so that he was levered over her. “We’ll have to bring every one of my fantasies to life at least once.”

“Well,” she said as she lifted her hips to take him even deeper, “if you absolutely insist...”

Chapter Thirty-one

In the middle of the night, when the tower grew too cold for their pile of blankets to keep them warm enough, Ford had carried a sleeping Mia down to the master bedroom.

“My prince,” she’d murmured against his chest. “Just like I always knew you were.”

His heart had been so full, he’d nearly had to wake her to tell her, again, just how much he loved her. But he’d kept her up late enough as it was, and considering his last show was in less than twenty-four hours, he’d known it was a good idea for him to get some sleep, too.

Now, as he lay with Mia soft and warm against him in his bed, he was glad they’d slept, and not just because they’d both needed the rest. Having her breathing softly and steadily in his arms was nearly as good as the way he was planning on waking her up.

Letting the fingers of one hand play through her soft hair over the pillow, he slowly splayed the fingers of his other hand across her stomach. Even if he hadn’t felt her breathing change pace immediately, he would have known she was awake from the little wiggle of her bottom into his erection.

He’d loved everything about their fast, fierce lovemaking so far, but now he wanted sleepy and slow. Pressing his lips to the curve of her shoulder, he slid his hand up from her stomach to cup the soft underside of one breast.

The little sound of pleasure she made shot right through him, making him even harder than he already was.

“Good morning,” she murmured as she put her hand on his hip, scoring his skin lightly with her fingernails.

From the first moment she’d ever touched him backstage in Seattle all those years ago, he’d been rocked by the intensity of their connection. To have gone without her for so long—and then to come back together in a full week of endless, erotic foreplay—had built up an unquenchable hunger in Ford. Finally making love with Mia last night hadn’t doused the madness, the obsession...

No, the more he had of her, the more he needed to have of her.

“Every day, Mia,” he growled between the kisses he ran up the side of her neck. His fingertips found her ni**les hard and waiting for his touch. “I want to wake up with you like this every single day.”

“Yes,” she said as he squeezed the taut tip of her breast. “God, yes. Just like this. Every day.”

He’d never been a morning person, and his years on the road had only solidified his nocturnal habits. But with Mia naked and warm against him beneath the thick bedcovers, he could suddenly see the beauty of the early sunrise hours. He loved the way her skin heated up even further with every kiss, every caress over her curves. There were so many fantasies he wanted to live out with her, and he was impatient to experience every one of them.

“Last night, you showed me how you played with yourself, how you made yourself come. And I loved it.” He shifted his hand to her other breast and the achingly hard nipple that was begging for his touch, and as she shuddered against him, he asked, “But do you know what I want this morning, baby?”

Lord, she was responsive, her hips moving even closer to his erection and her thighs opening as if to take him inside even before he told her what he was planning to do. “Please,” she said in a voice still husky with sleep, but also drenched with desire, “just take me, Ford.”