“Rhys, I’m serious.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“I want you inside me!”
He grins against my core. “That’s not stop or no,” he replies and drags that tongue through my lips and inside me, then back up to my clit.
“You’re trying to kill me.”
He chuckles. “You’re not ready.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t think I could be any more ready.” I grip the covers at my hips and hold my breath as he kisses the inside of my thighs, my pubis, and finally kisses up my body.
“Do you want me?” he whispers against my lips. The sound of a foil packet tearing open is the only sound as he hovers over me. I can smell and taste myself, and rather than answer, I pull his mouth down to mine, kissing him deeply, loving that our scents are mingling around me, and I reach between us, grip him firmly in my fist, and guide him to my entrance.
“I need the words,” he growls.
“I don’t just want you, Rhys, I need you.”
He pauses, his eyes on mine, his hands framing my face, breathing hard. And finally, finally, he pushes lightly, just burying the tip in my wetness.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “God, Gabby.”
He watches my face as he slides in farther, until he’s seated balls-deep, and then he stops again.
“Don’t move,” he says, kissing me softly.
“Are you okay?” My fingernails are dragging lazily down his sides to his ass, then up again.
“So much more than okay,” he replies and kisses me more firmly as he pulls out, then pushes in again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” I reply truthfully. “God, it feels so good.”
“So good,” he repeats and moves again. “I have to move, baby.”
“Good, ‘cause you’re killing me.”
He chuckles, then sighs as he pushes up on his hands and begins to move even faster, a little harder, watching my face all the while to make sure that I’m okay.
And boy, am I okay.
I clench around him, loving the way the ridge of his head drags against my walls, shooting little electrical sparks down my spine. I have to reach above me and push on the headboard, tipping my hips up to meet him, as our tempo grows. He’s sweating, breathing so damn hard, and I’m going to lose it.
“Rhys.”
“Yes, baby, go over.”
I rest my feet on his calves and clench down as his pubis hits my clit, and I go blind with ecstasy, my body gripping him with everything I have.
“Fuck,” he whispers and follows me, coming hard, his whole body shuddering. As the shivers slow, he leans his forehead against the headboard, working to catch his breath, and I’ve never seen anything like him in my life.
Crap, I’m in love.
Chapter Eight
~Gabby~
I can hear him moving about the room quietly. He thinks he’s letting me sleep in, I’m sure, and while it’s very sweet of him to try, a woman doesn’t wake up at five in the morning six days a week and sleep past seven on her day off.
But I lie here and listen to him, imagining him naked, or maybe wrapped in a towel from the shower I heard him take a little while ago. He moves back into the bathroom and closes the door, and I can hear him murmuring into the phone.
I stretch and roll over to my other side, smiling in pure contentment at the pull of sore muscles from a long night of lovemaking. I mean, seriously, six times?
The man is a machine.
Did last night seriously happen? Because…wow. He did things to me that I thought were only urban myths. Things women talk about, but haven’t ever actually done.
Like the whole pushing my legs up around my ears, hands pressed to the back of my thighs and making me see stars.
Or the way he can wrap those strong arms around me and just move me where he wants me. As if I don’t weigh anything at all.
And the dirty talk! Holy hell, the things that come out of Rhys’s mouth are probably illegal in some states, but I hope he never stops talking that way. It makes me feel sexy and fun.
Desired.
Wanted.
And that hasn’t happened in a very long time.
The sink turns on in the bathroom, and for several minutes I debate about getting up and joining him. It could be fun to play in the shower. Sure, he already took one, but I’m pretty sure I can talk him into another.
But then there’s a knock on our door, and he quickly comes out of the bathroom. My eyes are open now, and he flashes me a smile, wrapped in one of the robes offered by the B&B, and opens the door.
He returns to the room with a silver tray. There is only one covered plate on it, along with a single red rose.
“Breakfast,” he says with a wink. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” I shake my head and sit up in the bed, tucking the sheet under my arms. “I rarely sleep past seven.”
“Have I told you before how beautiful you are in the morning?”
I chuckle. “No.”
“Well, you are.”
He leans over the bed and kisses me back into the pillows, covers me with his lean body, and simply continues to kiss me.
He makes me dizzy.
He makes me forget my own name, for God sake.
“So beautiful,” he whispers against my lips, then sits up, uncovers the plate, and with his fingers picks up a strawberry and holds it up to my lips. I bite it and his fingers, then laugh as he scowls. “And a biter.”