Do I Know You?(56)

His eyes flit to mine momentarily with the spark of comprehension. He knows what I want.

He falls into rhythm immediately, knocking my head backward with one stroke of his tongue. Then abruptly he’s gripping me from behind, holding me in place. It is everything. His hands keep me firmly in position exactly where he wants me while waves of pleasure roll over me, dashing every coherent thought in my head into chaotic ecstasy.

The feeling is overwhelming, and my orgasm catches me quickly. His hands hold me, gripping my thighs with the same hunger I feel in me. I shudder into his face, exhaling hard while heat lightning shoots through me.

When finally I still, panting, I look down to find Graham smiling up. Or grinning. No, I decide—some of each. He looks like a man who’s just had his mouth where it was. But he looks like a man in love, too.

His hands stay where they were, but softly. He traces one thumb gently up my leg.

“Now what?” His question comes out low, like he’s eager for dozens of possible responses.

There’s only one I want to give him, though. Still over him, I place my hands on his shoulders, lavishing in the cat-in-the-sun pleasure filling me.

“You tell me,” I say.

He doesn’t hesitate. He sits up, letting me watch those stomach muscles do swift, seamless work while he pulls me firmly down onto his lap, onto him. I gasp softly even though I know how he’ll feel—partly because I’m lost in the pretense that this is really our first time, partly because the contact sends more delicious static into where I’m still sensitive.

Then we’re moving together, rocking together. Graham is everywhere, kissing my neck, the tops of my breasts, the curve of my collarbone while our chests come together. It’s mind-scattering, dizzying, consuming.

It’s the first time we dispense with one piece of our pretense, I recognize distantly. There’s no need to confirm birth control when he knows I’ve been on the pill for years. In every other way, though, it’s different. We’re running on the edge of this newness together, hand in hand, chasing this electricity we’ve learned how to create.

Graham tells me what he wants, and tells me again, and again. Wordlessly, he moves us onto our sides. I race to follow, improvising with him, stretching out in mindless pleasure with him behind me while he snakes one hand up my stomach to cup my breast. He’s feverish, kissing my back, pressing his face into my neck while he pushes into me. It’s a side of him I’ve never seen, and I don’t know how much is character and how much is real.

Either way, I like it. Graham’s unleashing something, too. Something I very much desire.

With our rhythm growing fiercer, we lose ourselves entirely in each other.





32


    Graham


ONCE I’VE FINISHED—or we’ve finished, her for the second time—I pull her close to me. I pushed myself to last as long as I possibly could, fighting with every movement not to give in. Finally, I couldn’t.

Now, lying with her, both our bodies sweat-slicked, I just want to drink Eliza in. The scent of her, the way her disheveled hair spills over her shoulders, the supple flexes every one of her curves makes while she breathes deeply. It’s never been the way it just was between us. I felt unbelievably free to give and take, to chase and lead. The results were . . . well, beyond rewarding.

I send my silent thanks to Investment Banker Graham. He deserves it.

Quickly my thoughts shift from reliving every glorious second of what just happened to figuring out how I can make it happen again.

Beside me, Eliza lets out a sated laugh. I roll onto my side to face her. “How do I measure up?” I ask. Pure happiness is making me cocky. I hold the feeling, not wanting the energy between us to flicker even for one relaxed moment.

Eliza chews her lip, her eyes round behind her lashes. “With my ex I never had any complaints,” she says, tracing one fingernail up my chest. “But I’ve also never had sex like that before. You?”

“Me either,” I say. I hold her gaze. “Not like that.”

Exhilarated, I leap up from the bed. Ordinarily, I’d probably be self-conscious standing in the middle of the room completely naked, but right now, I continue to channel the confidence of my investment banker persona. He works out. He regularly has mind-blowing sex. He’s like my superhero suit, if the suit came with the superpowers. Shoulders held high, I walk to the balcony doors and push them open.

Conscious of Eliza watching me, I stride to the Jacuzzi, where I flip open the cover.

Behind me, Eliza is giggling. “What are you doing?”

I turn to her, feeling the night breeze on my butt. “No one can see us,” I reply, gesturing to what is only cliffs and forests all the way to the ocean. Each suite like mine is its own bungalow, out of view of the others.

Eliza says nothing, eyeing the steam rising off the water.

I step in, enjoying the prickling heat enveloping me, then place my folded arms on the rim of the Jacuzzi to face her. “Care to join me?” I ask. I raise an eyebrow in a dare.

Eliza laughs again. Her eyes dart from me out into the night. Watching her, I feel my heart pounding with the same near-painful wild hope coursing in me when we reached my room. After a moment, she stands up with the sheets held around herself, her expression naked with wavering excitement.

With a delighted shriek, she lets the sheets fall behind her. She springs for the door.