Chapter Nineteen #2
He chuckled at her naivety, and she tried to get revenge by tickling him.
His laughter reverberated through her. It felt strange, to be giggling uncontrollably in the middle of great sex.
It felt ridiculous, and joyous, and fun.
They wrestled back and forth, hands entwined.
She kissed his smiling mouth, and he caressed her spine.
In the next instant, he was thrusting upward, and she was breathless with need again.
She decided to take charge of her own climax, because he wasn’t getting the job done. When she used two fingertips to touch herself, he groaned at the sight. He captured her hand and brought her fingers to his mouth. She let him taste, then resumed stroking.
Wade’s gaze darkened, and he started playing really dirty.
Denying her pleasure, he sat upright and trapped her arms behind her back.
She gasped in surprise, unable to escape.
He used one hand to encircle both of her wrists and continued his sensual assault.
His hips rose to meet hers, rocking slow and steady.
He lowered his head to her breasts and sucked one nipple, then the other.
His hands were definitely not tired, if one of them could imprison her so easily.
She didn’t protest the restraint; she was too turned on.
Her body rioted with sparks of sensation.
When she wept his name, begging for mercy, he slid his free hand between them.
He brushed his thumb over her clit, once. Twice.
That was all it took. She cried out loud enough to shake the rafters. She felt her inner muscles contracting around him, her heart bursting out of her chest and ripples of ecstasy expanding everywhere.
He didn’t wait for her to finish, perhaps because he couldn’t.
He let go of her arms, flipped her onto her back and thrust hard into her slick channel.
He pounded into her, his jaw clenched tight.
With a guttural sound, he buried himself to the hilt, his shoulders quaking as he found his own release.
She didn’t know how long they lay there, tangled together.
He was heavy, and sweaty, and spent. She relished the feel of his solid chest against her breasts, his damp hair beneath her fingertips.
His tactic to delay her orgasm had increased its power.
She’d never felt anything better than his hands and mouth on her body.
He rose to dispose of the condom. Then he curled up next to her, and a cotton sheet settled over her like a soft cloud.
The fabric smelled of his cedar soap and aftershave.
She snuggled against him, eyes closed. He tucked an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Languid moments ticked by, precious and transitory.
After an indeterminate amount of time, she turned onto her side to study his face. He looked completely relaxed. He probably wasn’t transformed by the experience, like she was. He’d had fantastic sex before.
“Have you been with a lot of women?” she asked.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“What would you say?”
“I’ve had more steady girlfriends than casual hookups.”
“But you’ve had both?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
He shrugged, noncommittal.
“You don’t remember?”
“I remember.”
“Is it in the double digits?”
“Maybe.”
“Is it always like this for you?”
His steady gaze met hers. “It’s never like this.”
She decided to be satisfied with that answer. He’d told her about his previous flop, which pleased her more now that they’d finished the deed with flying colors. “Was the last woman Natalie?”
“No.”
She straightened, gaping at him. “You thought you were in love with her, and you slept with someone else?”
He smiled at her reaction. “I did.”
She couldn’t fathom it. “Why?”
“Natalie and I weren’t together, so it wasn’t like I was cheating. One of my old girlfriends texted me.”
“Is that all it takes? A text?”
“There was a photo, too.”
“A nude photo?”
“It was sexy,” he admitted.
“Do women send you nude photos regularly?”
He sighed, shaking his head.
“What if you were in relationship, and someone sent you a photo like that?”
“I’d delete it.”
She lay back down the bed and stared up the ceiling. She was getting too personal and probing into places she didn’t belong. They hadn’t made any promises to each other. Two furtive encounters didn’t make them a couple.
He reached out to take her hand, as if he realized she was feeling sensitive. “It doesn’t matter how many women I’ve been with in the past. The question is, how many women do I want to be with right now?”
“How many?”
“One.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
Her lips curved into a reluctant smile. He sounded like an earnest high school boy talking to his crush. “I’ll think about it.”
He flashed a grin, because it was the same response she’d given when he’d asked her out. He knew she couldn’t resist him, then or now. She’d just proven it with her body. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer.
“You’re overconfident, Hendricks.”
“Hmm.”
He kissed her, and she felt his arousal grow hard against her belly.
She braced her palms on his chest. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“How can you want to do it again?”
“Is that a serious question?”
“Yes.”
“I’m capable of more than one round.”
“We’ve gone two rounds already.”
He skimmed his hands down her bare back. “Those were warm-ups. I’ve barely whet my appetite.”
“I can’t have any more orgasms.”
Arching a brow, he stripped the sheet away from her breasts. “Give me a chance to prove otherwise.”
She did and discovered that he was thoroughly, maddeningly correct.