8. Kara #2
I gasp softly, tilting my head back against the mirror, my fingers clenching into his dark hair.
"Stay quiet," he murmurs, his thumb pressing right against my center, rubbing with a slow, heavy pressure that sends a jolt of heat straight down my spine.
"You're the one making noise," I whisper back, my breath catching in my throat as he speeds up his rhythm.
Leander lets out a short, quiet breath against my neck. He reaches down with his free hand, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers in one fluid movement. He frees himself, his length thick and burning hot against my inner thigh.
He grabs my left leg, lifting it up and hooking my knee over his hip.
His eyes lock onto mine—dark, fierce, and focused on me. "Look at me."
I keep my eyes on his as he guides his tip to my opening and drives straight in.
The sudden, full sensation fills me completely, making me let out a muffled moan that I bury straight into his shoulder. The heat of him stretches me, his hands holding my hip pinned tight against his body so I can't slip back.
"Jesus, Kara," he grunts softly, his forehead dropping against mine as he pauses for three seconds to let my body adjust to him.
"Move," I demand, my fingers digging through his sweater into the hard muscle of his back.
He moves.
He sets a hard, relentless pace, driving deep into me with powerful thrusts that make the mirror behind my head vibrate faintly.
The friction is incredible. Every time he pushes into me, his hips slam flush against mine, the sound of skin hitting skin muffled only by the layers of silk bunched between us.
I bite my lower lip to keep from crying out, my free foot straining for leverage on the rug.
Leander shifts his grip, sliding his arm completely under my thigh to support my weight, lifting me slightly higher off the floor. His other hand catches the side of my neck, his thumb pressing lightly against my racing pulse while his mouth claims mine again in a deep, wet kiss.
He thrusts harder, deeper, finding that exact spot inside me that turns my brain to static.
His breathing is heavy and harsh against my ear, his muscles tense and iron-hard under my hands as he pushes deeper.
"Leander... right there," I whisper breathlessly into his neck, my body tightening around him, my inner walls pulsing hard against his shaft.
He feels it. He lets out a low, harsh groan, his movements turning frantic as he drives into me three more times with absolute force.
The pleasure snaps through me like a live wire. My body trembles violently, my climax rolling over me in long waves that make my leg shake against his hip. I bury my face in his neck, my teeth lightly grazing his skin as I fight to keep my moans quiet.
The feeling of my body clamping tight around him breaks his final thread of control. With a low growl, Leander thrusts deep one last time and holds himself buried flush against me as he comes, his body shuddering against mine in pulses.
We stay locked together in the quiet fitting room for a long minute, both of us breathing like we just ran a sprint in the dark.
The hum of the boutique music filters back through the velvet curtain from the main room outside.
Leander rests his forehead against mine, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling fast against my chest. His grip on my leg slowly relaxes, and he gently lowers my foot back down to the floor.
He pulls out slowly, making me let out a soft, shuddering breath at the sudden loss of warmth. He steps back, grabbing a linen towel from the side vanity, wiping us both clean before adjusting his trousers and zipping them back up.
I lean against the mirror, my legs feeling like lead, my heart still thumping against my ribs.
I pull down the burgundy dress, smoothing the silk over my hips, and look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a loose mess, my lips are dark red and swollen, and my skin is flushed.
Leander steps up behind me again. He reaches out, taking a loose strand of dark hair from my face, and tucks it gently behind my ear.
His face is calm again, his breathing back under control, but his eyes in the mirror still carry that dark heat.
"The dress looks good on you," he drawls, his voice raspy.
I let out a short breath that is half a laugh, looking at him through the mirror.
"We're terrible at keeping professional boundaries, Dr. Sartori," I whisper softly.
"We aren't in the hospital," Leander replies, sliding his hands back into his pockets. "And tomorrow night is going to be long."
"You think this makes tomorrow easier?" I ask, turning around to face him.
"No," Leander answers, his gaze dropping to my mouth for a beat before meeting my eyes. "It makes it complicated. But I'm not going to pretend I regret it."
He turns, pulls back the velvet curtain, and steps back out into the main salon.
I stand alone in the fitting room for five seconds, touching my fingers to my swollen lips, taking a slow breath to steady my pulse.
We're stepping right into a fire, I think, looking at the burgundy dress in the mirror. And neither one of us is running away.
I change back into my own clothes, fix my hair as best I can, and walk out with the burgundy dress to the till.