Gently, he lowered her to the bed, brushing fingertips over her trembling skin. Drake was the musician and she was his instrument, and he played her like an expert. He knew her, remembered the places that made her squirm with pleasure. Kissing her below her ear, he whispered, “Tell me how you want it.”
Love wasn’t shy, but she’d never taken the lead in lovemaking. She’d been content to let her partner take control. Drake made her want to please him, because he’d spent so much time making sure she was satisfied.
“How about you tell me?” she asked, arching her brow. “What do you want?”
He rested between her legs, ran his tongue over her parted lips. The hard evidence of his arousal pressed against her inner thigh. “You. That’s all.”
Love searched his eyes. There was no hesitation, no doubt. His hand slipped between them, into her wet heat. Her mouth fell open with a soundless cry as he circled her clit with his thumb, teased her, tempted her. Her hips rocked against his hand as his finger slid in and out of her. She was so wet for him, so gone. The pleasure took her over, warmed her from the inside. She needed a release, and it didn’t take long for her to spiral out of control and fall over the cliff as a climax tore through her body.
Love burrowed into the soft mattress, sated and drowsy. She placed a kiss on his neck, ran her tongue over the bulging vein that signaled his struggle to hold on, to not push forward inside her. His head fell to her shoulder and she tickled the hair at his nape, hugging him to her.
Seconds later, as he placed wet kisses against her ear, her shoulder and the base of her neck, she opened her eyes. He stared down at her, a sexy smile on his lips that seemed to ignite the ache between her thighs. She was consumed by him, as if he’d crawled inside her and taken over her body and soul. She wanted more, needed it to survive, like she needed sunlight or water.
As if he’d read her mind, he smoothed a hand down her side, over her waist to her knee, and raised it to wrap around his hip. Gripping her leg, he rested his length against her opening. She pushed up, tried to take him in, but he didn’t move.
“Drake, please.”
“Tell me how you want it,” he repeated.
“I… I don’t know.”
The tip of his rock-hard erection pressed against her. “Love.” His mouth met hers again in a soft feather of a kiss. It was vulnerable, needy. “I need you to say it.”
The way he’d said her name, the way he implored her to tell him how she wanted to be loved, shook her resolve. There was a longing there she hadn’t noticed before. Drake needed her to give him permission, to make it okay to love her in this way.
The line they’d crossed a couple weeks ago was gone. There was nothing standing between them, nothing in their way. She could give in and let this be what it was, or deny him. It was her choice, always her choice.
“Love.” His hand tangled in her hair, pulled gently, urging her to make the decision.
Swallowing, she kissed his chin, then nipped it with her teeth. “I want you nice and slow.”
She cried out as he filled her, the sound muffled by his mouth over hers in a demanding and passionate kiss. He held still, giving her a chance to adjust to his size, before telling her, “Your wish is my command.”
An hour later, they lay joined together in a tangle of limbs. Love was nestled against Drake, her face against his chest. “I’m so late for my shift.”
She felt the rumble of laughter underneath her cheek. “No, you’re not. You’re always two hours early. You still have time.”
Propping herself up on her elbow, she kissed him. “I better go,” she said against his mouth. “I have to shower again and get over to the hospital.”
“I won’t be there for a few hours.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
He cocked his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. “You have to ask?”
Love ran her thumbnail over a scar on his chest. “Yes, I do. This is a serious one.”
Drake groaned. “No, we can’t go all serious lying in bed naked. I don’t want to ruin the moment.”
She sat up, holding the thin sheet against her body. “I have to ask.”
He held her hand, ran his finger over the pulse point in her wrist. “Go ahead.”
“Drake, I hate that your father makes you feel the way he does. Have you ever considered telling him how you really feel?”
“He already knows, Love.”
“How could he?”
“I told him, when I was a senior in high school. I found out he’d never stopped sleeping with my mother. He’d lied to me for years, allowed me to believe that he had no connection to her and didn’t know how to get in touch with her. They’d seen each other every single time he visited Reno, or she came to Vegas. And that wasn’t even the worst part. He supported her financially, all the way up until she died.”