I want it to last forever, the clench of her * around my shaft, the hot dampness of her body beneath mine, the jostle of her breasts. I plunge into her again and again as lust fogs my brain and instinct takes over. My muscles tense and strain as I move faster, Liv’s cries driving my own need higher.
I brace my hands on either side of her head, wanting to feel the full length of her against me. She parts her legs wider. Our gazes lock through the heavy air. Sweat trickles down my chest. I push into her again, reaching between us to put one hand over her * and circle her clit with my thumb.
I love this, love her all spread open for me, watching her get all twisty and desperate, her long fingers plucking her nipples, her hair sticking damply to her shoulders. Another flick on her clit, and she comes with a cry, her * rippling around my cock. I surge into her, my mouth coming down on hers—open, wet, hot.
Liv clutches my biceps and closes her teeth on my lower lip. My head spins with the feel of her, every part of me driving toward the base need to mark her, claim her, make her mine again.
“Take me,” I whisper. “All of it.”
“Yes.”
She wraps her legs around mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her lips sliding over my jaw. Pressure cords my entire body. I thrust fully inside her as the pleasure explodes, shooting through me and into her with a flood.
“Dean, I… I feel it,” Liv gasps. “Oh...”
I sink on top of her, my chest heaving with ragged breaths, my cock still inside her. A shudder courses through her. Tears fill her eyes. I put my hands on either side of her face and kiss her—her lips, her cheeks, her chin, her nose, her eyelids.
I ease aside and take her with me, pulling her halfway on top of me. She hides her face in the slope of my shoulder. Her tears dampen my skin. I stroke her back, her hair, breathing in the sweet smell of her.
She’s trembling. Her heart beats against my chest in rhythm with mine. She rubs her damp face against my shoulder. My entire being fills again with the need to give her everything, to take care of her forever, to always prove how much I love her.
“Okay, beauty.” I press my lips to her temple, tightening my arms around her. “Let’s see what finds us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Olivia
wake with a start, my heart pounding. For a second, I can’t remember why my body is pulsing, almost sore, why the sheets are twisted around my legs. Then I hear the sound of the coffee grinder, and suddenly it’s a year ago, and I’m waking to the sound of my husband making coffee after we indulged in a night of hot, sweet sex.
I’ll stumble to the kitchen where Dean will be dressed in a tailored suit with a gray shirt and striped tie, all distinguished-professor handsome as he gets ready for a day of lecturing about concentric castle architecture…
Then reality breaks into my almost desperate wish. With a soft groan, I roll over and press my face into Dean’s pillow. Breathe him in. Try not to think about the world encroaching into our space. Like weeds choking a garden of sunflowers.
No. I won’t let them in. Not here. I can still feel Dean on top of me, his weight between my legs, his deep voice against my ear.
“I want to come inside you.”
My inner thighs are still damp. I shiver. A million tangled emotions rise to the surface of my heart, but they are all eclipsed by pure, bright love.
I pull myself out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush my teeth and splash water on my face. I shrug into my robe and go to the kitchen. Dean is leaning against the counter reading the paper, dressed only in his pajama bottoms, his hair messy and jaw unshaven.
I pause in the doorway to admire him, heat cascading through me as I gaze at his chest, his powerful arms corded with muscle, the hard slopes of his pecs, the ridges of his torso that I love to trace with my fingers.
His pants are slipping just enough to reveal the incredible V of his abdominal muscles arrowing toward his groin, and I imagine pressing my lips over them, following the path lower and lower…
“Ah, my marshmallow beauty.”
I jerk my eyes up to his, my breathing a little short. “Um, what?”
Amused, he nods toward my heavily padded bathrobe.
Well, crap.
I finally own several lacy nighties and a matching silk robe, but instead of slipping into one of those and strutting out here all sexy-like, I shuffled out in my old padded robe with my hair a flyaway mess.
I give Dean a mild glare and try to pat my hair into place. Of course he gets to look all deliciously rumpled and effortlessly sexy.
He puts the paper down and approaches me, sliding his arms around my waist and pulling me against him. He pats his hands all over my thick robe.
“I know you’re in here somewhere,” he mutters with a frown.
I poke him in the chest. “You know, I might be naked under this robe.”
“Yeah?” Intrigued, he looks me over. “Then let’s see if I can figure out how to liberate your gorgeous nakedness from such confinement.”