Chapter 38
CLEO
This was a terrible idea. The worst idea. Monumentally bad.
It was late and I had to be up in six hours to help Melody get ready for her wedding. I should be sleeping. Hydrating. Doing a face mask. Literally anything except pulling Cash Bancroft upstairs to his massive suite. But I couldn’t stop.
I’d longed for him. Dreamed about him. I had tried to convince myself Rome had been a beautiful mistake, that I didn’t need him. I’d been lying.
We stumbled into my room and I barely got the door closed before he had me against it, his body pressing mine into the wood, his hands already working at the zipper of my skirt.
“Cleo,” he breathed against my neck.
“Don’t talk.” I pulled at his shirt, trying to get it off him. “If you talk I might remember all the reasons this is a bad idea.”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
“It’s the worst idea. Melody’s wedding is tomorrow. I’m the maid of honor. You’re the best man. We’re supposed to be responsible adults who haven’t seen each other naked.”
“Overrated. I’ve seen some of my brothers naked.”
“Uh, not the same.”
He kissed me. Cut off my spiral with his mouth, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees weak. The zipper gave way. My skirt slipped down.
His hand palmed between my legs. The groan that escaped my lips should have embarrassed me. It didn’t.
“Still think it’s a bad idea?” he murmured against my lips.
“The absolute worst.” I got his shirt unbuttoned and pushed it off his shoulders. “Keep going.”
He laughed and I nearly climaxed at the sound. I loved his laugh. It was so rare. When I heard it, I knew it was real. His hands went to my blouse and pulled it up and over my head.
Cash pulled back to look at me.
“What?” I asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His voice was reverent. Like he was stating a fact. Like he couldn’t believe he got to touch me. I didn’t hear that a lot in my life. But when he said it, I felt it in my very being.
He kissed me again, walking me backward toward the bed. And then he was stretched out over me.
“I missed you,” he said. “Every day. Every single day.”
“Show me.”
His mouth moved down my neck, my collarbone, the curve of my breast. His hands followed, mapping territory he’d claimed in Rome and then walked away from. I arched into his touch, greedy for it, for him, for everything I’d been denying myself.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” I managed.
“So are you.”
“Then do something about it.”
He hooked his fingers in my underwear and pulled. Rough. Abrupt. The fabric tore slightly and I gasped.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
“Don’t be.” I reached for his belt. “Fair’s fair.”
I got his pants undone and he helped me push them off, kicking them away along with his boxers. And then we were both naked, skin on skin.
He was breathing hard, his forehead resting against mine. “I want every inch of you.”
I kind of thought he already had that. His hand slid between my thighs, finding me already wet and ready for him.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
He lowered himself down my body, pressing kisses along my stomach, my hips. I knew where he was heading and my whole body tensed with anticipation. When his mouth finally reached between my thighs, I gasped, my back arching off the bed.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice down. The last thing we needed was someone hearing us.
Cash looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire, before returning his attention to where I needed him most. His tongue was relentless, circling and teasing until I was clutching at the sheets, trying desperately not to cry out.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, guiding him, urging him on. He moaned against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my entire body. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me open for him as he devoured me like a man starved.
I panted, feeling the pressure building inside me. “I’m close.”
He increased his pace, adding his fingers to the mix.
I was lost. Soaring through space. The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, powerful and overwhelming.
I bit down on my free hand to stifle my cries as pleasure coursed through me.
My thighs trembled around his head, my body shaking with aftershocks.
When I could finally breathe again, I looked down to find him watching me, a smug smile on his face.
“Proud of yourself?” I asked, my voice shaky.
“Very,” he replied, pressing a kiss to my inner thigh.
I tugged him up by his shoulders, needing to feel his weight on top of me again.
He rolled away from me. “Oh hell no,” I muttered.
“Condom. Are there condoms here?”
I nodded. “Saw a box in the bathroom.”
He was already moving, practically diving off the bed. I heard him rummaging in the bathroom, cursing under his breath, then triumphant silence.
He came back with the box, already opening it.
“Found them.”
“Thank god. Now get back here.”
He was on me again in seconds, kissing me while he dealt with the condom. His hands were shaking slightly. I found that unreasonably endearing.
“Nervous, Bancroft?”
“Terrified.” He settled between my legs again. “That you’ll come to your senses and kick me out.”
“Not a chance.”
“Good.” He kissed me, slow and deep. “Because I plan to take my time with you.”
“We don’t have time for time. We have approximately five hours before I have to be functional.”
“Five hours.” He smiled against my mouth. “I can work with that.”
He pushed into me in one smooth stroke. I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders. It had been too long. I needed him.
“Okay?” he asked, going still.
“So okay.” I rocked my hips. “More than okay.”
He started moving. Slow at first, like he was relearning me. But I was impatient. Desperate. I urged him faster, harder, more.
He got the message. His control slipped. The careful restraint gave way to something raw and frantic and perfect. He drove into me with a desperation that matched mine, both of us chasing something we’d lost and found again in this ridiculous beach house bedroom.
“Cleo.” My name was a prayer on his lips. “God, you feel so good.”
I pulled him down for a kiss. It was messy, all teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. His hand slid between us, finding the spot that made me see stars.
“There,” I gasped. “Right there, don’t stop.”
His fingers worked magic while he moved inside me. I was racing headlong into a second orgasm. I wanted to put it off. Extend the pleasure. But my body and Cash had other ideas. I came apart.
Shattered into a million pieces with his name on my lips and his body thrusting into mine with enough power to slide me several inches up the mattress. He followed seconds later.
We lay there breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync.
“Three minutes,” he said.
“What?”
“Give me three minutes. I’m so not done. If you say shit about my age, I will prove my age is not a factor. I will prove it until you’re going to be walking funny down the aisle tomorrow.”
“Cash!” I felt scandalized.
“I’m not kidding, Cleo. I’ve got a month of pent-up frustration. I need to work through it.”
“Work through it? I feel like you should by lying on a couch.”
He looked around the room and pointed. “I’ll lie on that couch and you can ride me.”
I slapped at his chest, because hello. Who was this man cracking jokes and talking so wantonly? Was that a word? It wasn’t vulgar. Not crude. Definitely sexy but so unlike my Lurch.
He rolled back on top of me. His naked body was damp with perspiration. We kissed until we were both breathless. His hands were wandering once again.
“Round two?” I asked against his mouth.
“Absolutely.”
“We should probably pace ourselves. I need to be functional tomorrow.”
“Five hours, you said.” He settled between my thighs again. “That gives us at least two more rounds. Maybe three if we’re efficient.”
I laughed. “Efficient sex. Very romantic.”
“I’m a Bancroft. Efficiency is romance.”
“God, you’re weird.”
“You love it.”
“I really do.”
He kissed me and we stopped talking for a good long while.