The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(130)

Elliot Miles calling Elanor a witch brings an unexpected smile to my face, and I know it shouldn’t, but it does.

“You think this is funny?” He smiles as his lips take mine; he walks forward and I walk back.

“This just confirms what I always knew,” I reply.

“What’s that?” He smiles against me.

“You are an idiot.”

In one sharp movement, he bends and throws me over his shoulder. I laugh out loud and he slaps my behind. “Where’s your bedroom, wench? You’re about to get it.”

“Aren’t you all wanked out?” I laugh as I hang upside down. “I saw the blisters.”

“Behave.” He slaps my behind again.

He carries me into the bedroom and throws me on the bed, and I bounce as I land.

With his eyes locked on mine he takes his shirt off over his head. His chest is broad with a scattering of dark hair, his tanned shoulders and arms cut with definition, his stomach rippled with muscles. But it’s his eyes that arrest me, filled with desire and love and a sense of belonging.

Home.

In slow motion he slides down his trousers and my breath catches. No matter how many times I see him naked, I’m never prepared for his powerful beauty.

Elliot Miles is a million things, but most of all . . . he’s mine.

He crawls over me. “You owe me for the hell you’ve put me through,” he says as he nips my hip bone through my dress.

“Oh.” I sit up, remembering something. “Come.”

“What?”

I jump up and take his hand. “I have something to show you.” I drag him out into the other room and hold my hand up toward my easel.

It’s a huge oil painting of the two of us together; I’ve been working on it for weeks. We are in each other’s arms, staring lovingly at each other.

A moment of intimacy between us, captured in my memory.

His breath catches as he stares at it, and he runs his finger over the title of the painting at the bottom right corner.

Forever Enchanted.

His nostrils flare and he presses his lips together, overwhelmed with emotion.

His eyes find mine. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you.”

He kisses me and we melt together and, oh . . .

“Marry me.”

I pull back to look at him. “What?”

“Marry me, Kathryn. I know this isn’t the most romantic proposal . . . but our story and this painting.” He wells up. “I just . . .”

Oh, I love him.

“Elliot Miles, are you asking me to marry you, buck naked with an erection?”

He looks down at himself and then breaks into a slow smile. “I guess I am.”

He kisses me and pulls me close, and I can feel every hard inch that he has. “Well, what do you say, Landon?” He drags me over his hard cock.

I giggle. Only him.

He jerks me against him, demanding an answer.

“Yes. I’ll marry you.”

We laugh against each other’s lips and he picks me up and carries me back to the bedroom, then he lifts my dress over my head and then takes off my bra and panties and lays me down.

He lies down beside me and spreads my legs; his fingers find that sweet spot as he kisses me deeply. My back arches off the bed as he works me harder, and harder. The sound of my wet arousal echoes around us but he doesn’t stop, he pushes me.

“Elliot,” I murmur.

“I have to warm you up, angel . . . because, fucking hell, I’m about to blow. Hard.” His voice is deep, commanding, and I know he’s running on pure instinct. The urge to fuck has taken him over and he’s losing control by the second.

I slide my hand down and feel him: he’s rock-hard with pre-ejaculate dripping from his end.

God, how did I ever think I could live without this? Without him.

“Now, El,” I whisper as I pull him over me. “Please.”

With his dark eyes locked on mine, he rolls over me and nudges my opening with his tip, and I feel the burn of his possession.

Every time with this man is like the first.

His size, unforgiving.

“I love you.” His eyes flutter closed.

I smile against him and then he pushes in hard, nailing me to the mattress. Forcing my body to accept his.

His sweet words in vast contrast to his hard actions.

I cling to his broad shoulders and I close my eyes as I try to deal with him.

Ouch.

Elliot Miles was born to fuck, unapologetic, and hard.

He pulls out and slides back in, his eyes dark with want. He rotates his hips one way, and then the other. Stretching me, opening me up for his pleasure.

“You alright?” he murmurs, his eyes locked on my lips.

I nod. “I’m good. Go.”

He bites my neck as his hips begin to pump, hard, thick, and fast, and oh hell.

I arch my back, his cock working at piston pace. His big hands grab my inner thighs as he holds my legs open, his knees spread wide, and I can see every muscle in his torso as it contracts. The sound of the bed hitting the wall with force echoes around us and I scream out as I come hard. I hold him tight, through the ecstasy, as all the pain from the last few months is washed away with love. He holds himself deep and I feel the telling jerk of his cock deep inside my body.