Below the Belt(57)

“Grass is greener,” she sang and took another spoonful. “I’m sorry, did you want to share this?”

“We already established—”

“That you aren’t housebroken yet, I know.” She patted his leg gently with a sad look. “We’ll work on it.”

“No, honey, you go ahead. I don’t need to share your ice cream,” he said robotically. She rewarded him with a tiny spoonful.

“Perfect.” She ate the last bite, then placed the bowl on the coffee table and reorganized herself so her back pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, hands resting comfortably on her stomach. “We could watch a movie.”

“It’s getting late. I won’t last through an entire movie.”

“It’s barely nine,” she said, then sighed. “Forgot. Sorry. Early conditioning.”

He rubbed a circle over her stomach, his hand grazing the tops of her thighs, then lightly running over her groin until he squeezed. “You could always tuck me in.”

“I could do that.” She sat up. “I think I’ve got a CD with some lullabies somewhere in one of my boxes.”

“Smart-ass.” He blinked. “You’ve still got boxes? I thought you were done unpacking.”

“I always think I am, then I find another one. I’ve just stuffed a lot of them in the second bedroom closet, or in random nooks and crannies. I don’t know how long I’ll be here anyway, so . . .” She shook her head to end the thought. “Come back. Let’s get in bed.”

Now there was an idea he couldn’t dismiss. He stood and followed her back. As she walked, she loosened the string to her pajama bottoms and walked out of them, leaving them in a pool on the hallway floor. Her panties followed, then her shirt, until she was totally naked in her bedroom. “You forgot to strip down, too,” she chided as she pushed his shirt over his head.

Her breasts pillowed against his chest, hard nipples poking into him. He kissed her, running his fingers up her neck and into her hair. He loved how light it felt, like feathers in his hands. He loved the way she tasted. The way her body responded automatically to his, softening for him.

He felt the softness as his hands parted her thighs, then her sex, and dipped two fingers in. She was ready for him. Marianne moaned into his mouth, her hips jutting against his hand to make him go faster. He didn’t; he just kept a slow and steady pace. His forearms were sore from the bag workout earlier, but the burn as she moaned and clenched around his fingers was only more erotic.

He walked her backward to the bed, pressing her down and resting on top of her. So far, she had taken charge in their sexual exploits, and he’d let her. Mostly because he loved watching her on top, exerting her control and doing whatever the hell pleased her the most in that moment. Watching her ice-blue eyes haze with climax was one of the sexiest things he’d ever witnessed.

But tonight, he needed to be in charge.

He removed his shorts and boxers, coughing to cover a hiss of pain when he twisted his knee in the wrong direction. She didn’t notice and instead kept doing that wonderful thing where she smoothed her hands over his back, scratching every so often. He grabbed a condom from her bedside drawer, put it on and plunged in. His arms burned from holding him up; his knee screamed from the constant motion. But there was no switching now. No way in hell.

She arched into him, rolled left and right between his arms. Her breasts press into his forearms before she raised her hands up to cup them and toy with her own nipples.

“Aw, Jesus H.,” he muttered. That was the end of his plan for endurance. In the sack with Marianne, apparently, he was doomed to endurance failure. The woman turned him inside out.

“I’m coming,” she warned with a whisper, then fisted around him until she cried out.

He followed her into his own climax, nothing but grateful for having her reach her peak seconds before him. Pure luck.

The second he was finished, he half collapsed on top of her. His arms were jelly.

“Brad!” she shrieked when he blew a raspberry against her neck. “How the hell do you get so sweaty after ten minutes?”

“You light me on fire, baby.”

She groaned at the horrible line, and he smiled against her skin. “Just call me a furnace. Can’t help it. I’d sweat sitting in a walk-in freezer.”

“Well, Furnace, your ass is still in the air. Toss the condom and let’s snuggle.”

“Can’t. Arms are immobile. Speed bag did me in tonight.”

She huffed. “You can’t stay here forever. I’m rolling you over.”

He grunted. “I’ve got it. Damn, woman, give a man a minute to recover from mind-blowing sex, why don’t ya?”

“Mind-blowing, or arm-blowing?” She grinned up at him as he struggled to his hands again. He watched her for a moment, smiling up at him, her cool blonde hair bed-rumpled behind her, ice-blue eyes shining, and fell headfirst in love.

Unable to say anything past the lump in his throat, he kissed her nose. Later. When he didn’t have a spent condom to deal with.

He went to straighten his legs and hop off the bed when his right knee locked completely. Having already distributed his weight to step down, but unable to fully straighten his leg to put his foot on the floor, he collapsed off the side of the bed.

Jesus H.