Ladies Man (Manwhore #4)(67)

He pins me in place and drives into me again as if he wants to bury himself in me and possess me whole.

The noises he makes drive me crazy, his kisses obsess me. The warmth of his breath on my cheek arouses me even more as he holds my head to kiss me. His kiss is nearly painful, it is so raw, and he slows it down until it’s unbearably worshipful and tender.

I soak it all up. The feel of him. The increase in his speed. Faster and faster. I’m holding his jaw and pulling him to me, closer and closer.

The sound of me, crying out.

His heavy breaths, as fast as mine.

And the moment I lift my eyes to find him staring straight into mine with that dimple peeking out and I know that he’s loving this moment as much as I am…

My nails sink into his back, my face in his throat, and suddenly I’m not smiling anymore.

I’m taken to a shattering climax, one where nothing else exists but this feeling of belonging.

Convulsing, I’m twisting and shaking, and crying a little it’s so intense, the way I come in his arms. I hear the sound of his breath jerking in his chest and I feel him tighten his body as he comes. He ducks and sucks my nipples, then my lips, his fingers traveling up the grooves of my ribs as he croons that I’m so hot…so very hot…

We’re a tangle of delicious limbs when we come back to reality. He brushes my hair behind my shoulder, exposing my neck so he can gently kiss my throat.

The sound of silence settles in the room.

I lie naked and sated, his arms holding me.

He shifts me in a way that he’s still inside me, and we lie quietly together.

He cups my cheek and forces me to look at him.

One year ago, all I wanted was to be his—a thousand moments later, I still do.

Millions of smiles in the world, and his is the one I love most. The one he’s wearing now is particularly cocky. “What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

I groan and nudge him. He nudges me back and pulls me tighter into his arms, laughing as he bites my earlobe.





NEXT MORNING


I wake up in a big bed with white cotton sheets when I hear the sound of the shower being turned off. Minutes later, it smells like coffee. Vanilla?? Coffee. Definitely some vanilla.

I moan and roll over to find the sun streaming in through the windows.

White cotton sheets cover my naked legs.

I feel lazy and smooth.

And it smells more strongly of coffee.

I stretch my arms over my head and smile, looking around me.

Tahoe.

Tahoe…

With that thought, with the thought of that name and the man attached to it, I jerk up out of the bed, slip into my nicest pajamas, and practically sprint out of the room.

My stomach is a bundle of nerves and my sleepiness is slowly lifting with every step I take on the white limestone floor.

Tahoe hears me coming into the kitchen and I swear I can practically hear him smirk from where I’m standing, five feet away.

“Morning, sunshine.”

He’s wearing his PJs too.

He packed a bag when he came over? The thought warms me when I realize he meant to stay.

Dark blue pants with white stripes. Shirtless. I gulp.

Tahoe takes me in from where he stands, admiring me in a melon-pink silk sleep dress. I blush and smile.

I look over his shoulder to find the coffee machine dripping sweet chocolaty-brown deliciousness.

He follows my gaze and smirks. “If you want it, you’re going to have to come and get it.”

I narrow my eyes and slowly make my way toward him.

I am met with a wall of hard muscle.

He smells like mint and coffee and soap and Egyptian cotton sheets and like…me.

He smells like a lazy Sunday morning.

I breathe him in and look up into his sparkling blue eyes. I get up on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, “Step aside, baby.”

I feel his muscles tighten and his breath catch in his throat at the endearment. “Not yet,” he croons, slipping his arm around my waist and trapping me there.

I run my hands up and down his chest. “Please?” I answer.

I don’t know who I’m teasing anymore.

Him or me.

His nearness maddens me. The memory of last night maddens me.

He exhales roughly and before I know it, his hands grasp the backs of my legs, lifting me up, and I’m sitting on top of the marble kitchen island.

He pushes my legs open and stands between them. He smirks down at me and lowers his head to mine. “Give me a kiss,” he whispers, teasing me with his breath on the side of my neck.

“What?” I gasp, trying not to focus on his lips sliding along my flesh.

“Kiss me, Regina.” He continues rubbing his lips along the curve of my jaw. He plants a kiss on my pulse point below my ear.

“Give me a good morning kiss, baby,” he continues, looking heatedly at me.

“Ha…” I try to laugh through his teasing but I’m having difficulty thinking of a good comeback. “I’m not used to being charged for coffee I can make on my own.”

“Really?” he asks, his hands pushing my little silk dress up my thighs.

His hands are warm, and a little rough, and so achingly familiar. Warm on my skin as he holds on to my thighs, dangerously close to my ass.

I find myself wishing he would go higher.