He felt her first signs of an orgasm when her buttocks began shaking like a volcano, and he continued to pump inside her as she screamed his name, releasing the same pent-up passion he’d endured for the past week.
And then his body exploded, sensations ripped through him, seemingly tearing him into pieces, making his heart pound in a way it had never pounded before. It was as if, for the first time ever, he had found something that was...his.
He pushed that thought to the back of his mind, not ready to deal with such thoughts now of all times. When it came to women, he didn’t get possessive. He didn’t...
“Dalton...”
She whispered his name, breaking through the clouds suffocating his mind. And he turned her around to him; he stared at her and felt his heart begin pounding even more. And that was when he leaned in, cupped her face in his hand, whispered her name and kissed her. Hard. Needing this kiss the same way he’d needed to connect his body with hers earlier. He should regain control, but at the moment all he could do was continue to lose it. He would deal with the reason why later. For now, he needed this.
He needed her.
Thirty-One
Jules nudged Dalton awake and looked down at him. “What’s for breakfast?”
He slowly opened one drowsy eye and then two before staring at her as if she were an apparition. “Jules?”
“Yes, that’s the name I prefer going by,” she said, glancing around his bedroom. “Nice place, Dalton, although you should think about adding more pictures on your walls.” She looked back down at him. “Now, what’s for breakfast?”
He rubbed a hand down his face. “You stayed the night?”
She thought that was a dumb question. “No, I showed up this morning naked. Stonewall let me in, and I found you here in bed naked, with several opened condom packets on your nightstand. Looks like you had a wild night.”
“Smart-ass,” he muttered.
“What did you say?” she asked, leaning down toward him, her hair falling in his face. “Could you repeat that? I’m sure I misunderstood what you said just now.”
Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed her around the waist, flipped her on her back and then hovered over her. Now it was him looking down at her. “Did I invite you to stay last night?” he asked, like the very thought of such a thing was foreign to him.
“No, I forced myself on you. Hid my clothes and locked us in here.”
“Jules...don’t play with me,” he said in a warning tone, leaning toward her.
She stared up into his face. Although he still had that drowsy look, his jaw had tightened, and his eyes were like steel. What in the world was wrong with him? She’d heard about not being a morning person, but this was kind of ridiculous. She used her arms to shove him back, not caring that he almost tumbled off the bed. “And don’t you play with me,” she said in the same warning tone.
Pulling herself up, she pushed her hair back from her face and glared at him. “What is wrong with you, Dalton?” she snapped.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “Nothing.” Her question seemed to slap him out of whatever stinky mood he was in. “It’s just that...”
When he didn’t finish what he was about to say, she inched closer to him. “What?”
“I’m not used to this.”
“You’re not used to what?”
He shrugged. “Waking up and finding a woman in my bed.”
Jules’s eyes narrowed. “Just to set the record straight, you didn’t find me here, you put me here. In your bed. Leather boots and all. And except for the few times I demanded a potty break, you’ve pretty much kept me here.”
His voice actually made the sound of a growl. “Do you have to be so damned sassy?”
“And do you have to be so damned arrogant?”
Jules stared into his eyes and saw beyond the moodiness and confusion. She saw nervousness. A high level of discomfort. Why? “I’m going to ask you for the third time, Dalton. What’s wrong with you? Why are you so tense?”
“And I told you,” he said, moving to lie down in the bed beside her to stare up at the ceiling. “I am not used to waking up...with a woman in my bed.”