Seven #2
He nodded, clearly unconcerned by the request as he mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away a key. ‘C’mon,’ he murmured gently. ‘Let’s go inside.’
Rowena allowed herself to be led, her gaze not leaving his as he shuffled unhurriedly backwards to the open doors of her room.
When he reached the threshold he gave another tug and she followed him inside.
The relative warmth of the room and the low lamplight embraced them as he closed the door, obliterating the outside world.
Settling her back against it, there was nothing but their breathing between them. Their loud, husky breathing. His body was big and hot and hard—everywhere—as it pressed close, and Rowena both thrilled to it and felt a moment’s pause.
She was about to get naked with a guy she barely knew—a sheep farmer. That certainly hadn’t been on her bingo card for this year. But then neither had a public, humiliating breakdown, so …
‘Ro?’
The low caress of his voice reached into her sudden sense of dislocation and calmed her. She glanced up, tipping her head back slightly to meet his eyes.
‘We don’t have to do this. It’s perfectly okay to change your mind.’
What? No. That wasn’t what was happening. She wanted this. She needed it.
‘Have you got a condom?’ she asked, realising suddenly that she did not and, as a responsible adult—and a nurse—it was a necessity. Sure, she didn’t have to worry about pregnancy, but babies weren’t the only thing that could result from unprotected sex.
His features took on a look of concentration for a moment, as if running a mental inventory. ‘Yes.’
There was unrestrained glee in his voice as he pulled out his wallet, riffled through, found a condom and brandished it.
‘In that case, I definitely want to do this.’
Then she lifted on her toes and kissed him and everything went hazy as passion flared.
Kisses got deeper, gasps got louder, groans got rougher.
Clothes disappeared until they were finally skin to skin, all his hardness—and there was a lot of that—hot against her, his callused hands sparking goosebumps as he stroked her hips and her thighs and her breasts, her nipples beading to tight, achy points.
Then suddenly there was a mattress at her back and him at her front as he suited up. Wrapping her legs around his waist, the hot, hard nudge of him made her moan.
‘Now,’ she said.
He eyed her lazily, amusement in those blue depths. ‘What’s your hurry?’
‘It’s been a very long time for me. I don’t need feats of marvel or stamina. Just you, inside me. Can you manage that?’
The need to feel that delicious kind of stretch roared like a hurricane inside her head, twisting like a tornado through her torso.
His chuckle was also kind of lazy. ‘You know, a lot of men might find that intimidating.’
‘You one of them?’
He grinned. ‘Nope.’ Then he swooped in and claimed her mouth as he thrust.
Rowena cried out at the sheer, unadulterated, breathtaking bliss of it, her nails digging into his back. God … she’d forgotten how good this felt. A man deep inside her. His weight pressing her down, every cell in her body keening for more.
‘You okay?’ he asked, panting as he eased back a little to look into her eyes.
Rowena gave a half laugh as the delicious fullness curled fingers around her insides and squeezed. ‘Yes,’ she murmured, snaking her hand to his nape and dragging him back down. ‘Don’t stop.’
He smiled then kissed down her neck to her breast, grazing his teeth against a nipple as he thrust again.
Rowena arched into it, gasping at both stimuli, and he did it again and again until everything buzzed and hummed, sensations spinning and colliding, expanding and building, her appreciative moans keeping time with the cant of his hips.
Yes! This was good. She could do this. She could put everything that had happened this past year behind her and just give herself up to this deliciously mad moment.
Let herself go.
Just because her libido had been dead and she hadn’t been able to climax all year, didn’t mean she was broken. It was the medication and, well, obviously, lack of Lachlan.
Wait …
Why was she suddenly thinking about not coming when her body was clearly on its way there? Or had been, anyway. But not now, apparently. The build-up was slowing. Things were … plateauing. The end goal was getting further and further out of her reach.
Sure, it felt good, but the promise of crescendo was fading fast.
No. Please god, no.
Rowena bit back a frustrated whimper, squeezing her eyes shut, determined to get it back. It was right there, dangling just out of reach. Like a pull cord, so close she could almost feel it with the tips of her fingers—all she had to do was reach a little further.
Lachlan was close, too. She could tell by the tremble of his shoulders beneath her palms, the desperate roughness of his panting as he puffed hot air on her neck, the crazed kinda edge to his groans. His hand near her head was fisted in the sheet, the knuckles white with the effort to hold off.
To wait for her to finish first.
But she wasn’t going to finish. Rowena knew that as sure as she knew the sun would rise in the east tomorrow. Given her recent history, it had probably been a tall order to begin with, but now she was so in her head about it.
Forget it.
No matter how good her body felt—and there was something inherently orgasmic about this kind of possession—it was like there was some kind of disconnect between her body and her brain.
Physical arousal alone was only half of the puzzle.
And she was damned if she was going to ask this one-anddone guy to help her figure it out. But for sure, unlike a lot of men, Lachlan McCabe, who was probably counting freaking sheep right now waiting for her, would notice if she didn’t come.
So, Rowena did what any self-respecting woman who wanted to avoid an embarrassing conversation about her dysfunctional body with a man who was never going to be between her thighs again would do in this situation.
She faked it.