Sensitized in a way she’d never experienced and drained by the effort to hold herself in check, she whispered her answer. “No, they won’t.”
Dylan kissed her then. The kiss was urgent, demanding, hard, telling her with his body, his hands, and his mouth that there would nothing tentative or polite between them. Not tonight, anyway.
Clenching his shirt, she drew him nearer. His hands trailed down her back and cupped her bottom. When he slid his thigh between her legs, she pressed against him. The pressure made her hot, wet, and hungry for more.
Stumbling toward the bedroom, they tripped on the clothes that fell to the floor along the way. He rolled her onto the bed, twisting to catch her weight on top of him. His gaze moved over her, his eyes dark and excited. Appreciative.
That look made her feel beautiful and desirable. It gave her confidence. She rubbed against him, creating a friction between the smoothness of her skin and the crinkly hair on his chest that made her shiver.
And then, he moved. Moved his hands on her. His body against hers. He never stopped moving, never stopped touching her everywhere—stomach, breast, knee, thigh. More, more, she needed more.
She needed to touch him as he touched her.
The corded muscles of his shoulders and back rippled as she stroked her hands across them. Every part of him felt like polished steel. His breath caught when she ran her fingers across his stomach. Her tongue across his nipple brought forth her name on a groan.
He took her nipple in his mouth and pulled urgently. Sensation shot through her like wildfire. The need to be completely naked or spontaneously combust expanded inside her. She shoved off her panties, and he slipped his finger against her heat. Stoking the fire. Finding her moistness. Slick, slippery. Ready. She groaned and pressed against his hand, eager and breathless.
He stood to shuck off his jeans then returned to her gloriously naked, his erection standing proud. She wanted to look at him, to memorize him—the most beautiful, perfect man she’d ever seen, long limbed and muscular. He dropped down beside her and immediately licked down her stomach. Then lower.
“Finally.” He breathed against her, heating her up before separating her folds with his tongue. He nibbled, he sucked—oh, God—sensation rippled through her as he brought her to the brink.
Not yet, she wanted to protest, don’t let it be over, but she couldn’t create coherent words. She could only moan his name.
He didn’t let up, building the waves of pleasure, pulling her toward climax, demanding her trust. Taking her as far as she could go. Farther than she’d ever been before. His mouth stayed on her to the last ripple, to the final incredible convulsion.
Every tense muscle in her body relaxed. She’d never felt so shattered, so fulfilled, so... restless and aroused. Long and thick and hard, he pressed against her leg. She wanted him inside her. Now.
Gripping his hair in her fists, she pulled him up. “We’re not done.
“We’re not even halfway there yet.”
Moving over her, he began the slide into her, inch by heavenly inch. Smooth and hard, he pushed inside, delving impossibly deep, to her very center. The center of her body and soul.
“Wait,” she ordered. “Wait.” She savored the moment, reveled in the triumph.
He rocked against her.
“Mmmm.” She lifted her hips and tilted upward. “I love the feel of skin against skin.” She hugged her legs around his hips to hold him close, pulling him deeper inside.
“Me, too.” His breath tickled the ear he nibbled. He lifted his head, smiling his pleasure.
Their eyes met, and she read first the soul-deep satisfaction and then the blaze of alarm. They stiffened at the same moment. He stopped mid-stroke.
“Skin against skin?” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Christ, I’m sorry, I forgot.”
“We have to stop!” She prayed for an alternative. Hmmm. He was already in place. They’d moved past the moment of no return for safety’s sake, both pregnancy-wise and health-wise. Maybe if he pulled out before…
He dropped his forehead against hers. With what seemed like superhuman effort, he levered his shoulders upward. She noticed his hips didn’t follow. “Maybe if I...”
“No!” She couldn’t let them think that way even if every hormone in her body screamed for her to lock her ankles together, tighten the muscles that sheathed him, and thrust against him, again and again.
He was a man of vast experience. No telling what he’d been exposed to. She taught sex education classes, for God’s sake. They were currently in violation of rule number one. She knew the risks, she knew better than to take chances, for any reason, even if this one time seemed worth it. Even if the damage had already been done.
“I’m healthy,” he said, kissing the side of her neck.
“Me, too, but we have to stop.” She removed her hands from his shoulders and clenched them into fists at her sides to keep from securing him in place.
“You’re right.” The torturous withdrawal began. He eased himself out of her with prolonged agony. Her every heartbeat, every breath raised its own protest until the final whoosh of separation left her bereft. Empty. Cheated. Frustrated.
Her thoughts raced. How close was the nearest convenience store? Five miles? Seven? Would it be open now? What else could they use? Plastic wrap? The finger of a latex glove?
He hovered over her a second longer, pressing a kiss on her mouth that tasted like regret. “Damn.” Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his jeans. “I’m sorry.”
Oh, no! Is he leaving? A disappointed groan escaped her.
“I know what you mean.” Dylan stroked her nest of curls before pulling a small packet from his pocket. “Hang on a second. I’ll be right back.”
“You’ll be right back?” she asked, ready to kick up her heels and dance around the room.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t prepared. I said I forgot.”
Hurray! He had a condom! “Hurry!”
He palmed his erect cock and wasted no time in suiting up. When he lay on his back and she climbed on board, Gracie experienced the overwhelming sense of coming home.
“Aahhh.” He pushed all the way inside. “Just as good as before.”
She didn’t understand it. That layer of latex normally lessened the pleasure dramatically. For some reason, this time it didn’t.
He steadied her hips against his, holding her firmly as she tested his control, withdrawing a little and thrusting again. His gaze darkened with intensity. His concentration focused as he moved to caress her breasts and graze her nipples with her thumbs.
“Go for it,” he said. “I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”
She rode him long and hard, setting a demanding pace, hard and fast, pushing deep, rocking against him. He matched her rhythm as the tension built and built.
His face became taut and his chest slick with sweat before he bucked with the intensity of his release. With the eruption of his desire, he threw back his head and gritted out her name. “Now, Gracie, now.”
She didn’t just come, she soared. She didn’t just soar, she floated among the stars.
Relaxing her arms, she sank down against him. He wrapped an arm around her and locked her in place. “Now we’re done,” he mumbled. “I can die a happy man.”
A smile curved his lips as he drifted into sleep.
Too stunned to sleep, Gracie examined the moment. What in the world had she been thinking? She had wanted him, but nothing in her past had prepared her for the gift he had given her. Where she had wanted warmth, she got blazing passion. Where she had wanted closeness, she got fusion. Where she had wanted a moment of forgetfulness, she got the memory of a lifetime.
And it wasn’t as if she’d never had an orgasm before. Of course, she had. But Dylan had savored her like Godiva chocolate. He had lapped and nibbled, licked and sucked. Comparing the orgasms she’d had before to the one—two!—she’d had tonight would be like comparing the pop of a firecracker to the explosion of dynamite.