I let out a small cry, one hand going to the back of his head and holding him to me as he makes me crazy with his mouth.
He pulls back only long enough to get rid of both of our jeans, until he’s left only in blue boxers and me in my bikini panties. Sitting back on his knees, he smiles down at me. “You wear pink lingerie. Of course.”
He slides a finger along the lace before hooking his fingers into the thin fabric and tugging them down my legs.
I’m naked before Paul Langdon, and nothing has ever felt so right.
He looks at me, his eyes worshipping, and I lie perfectly still, letting him.
“You’re beautiful,” he says, his voice turning regretful. “You deserve someone equally beautiful.”
My heart clenches at the expression on his face, and I sit up, kneeling in front of him. And then I show him what I don’t know how to say with words. I lean forward and very softly kiss a thin, ragged scar running from his left shoulder to the center of his chest.
He sucks in a breath. “Don’t.”
I ignore him, kissing my way up his neck, lingering along that perfect, harsh jawline before moving over to his right side.
He tenses as he realizes what I’m about to do. “Don’t.”
My hands find his before he can push me away, and gently my lips touch the first of the raised scars on his face. I follow suit with the other two scars, each touch of my lips letting him know that to me he is perfect.
Paul crushes his mouth to mine then, pushing me onto my back. His hand slides between my legs, finding me wet and wanting. He pulls back only long enough to remove his boxers before he comes back to me, sliding one long finger into me without warning.
“You need to be sure about this,” he says, his voice hoarse against my neck as he fingers me. “No regrets tomorrow.”
Regrets? Definitely the furthest thing from my mind right now, and I slide my hand down to his erection to show him so.
He swears before grabbing both of my wrists and pinning them above my head with one hand.
“I can’t go slow, Olivia. Not with you, not this first time. I can’t promise gentle, either. Maybe next time,” he says with a little laugh.
My heart is a little stunned—and glad, beyond glad—to realize that he’s planning on a next time.
I squirm. “I don’t want gentle.”
I’ve barely whispered the sentence when he thrusts inside me, hard and fast. I gasp a little at the invasive pleasure of it.
He buries his face in my neck with a muttered curse, and the dark room is filled with the sound of our harsh breathing.
Then I wind my legs around his waist and he goes wild. One hand continues to hold my wrists as the other slides down my hip, under my butt. I helplessly twist my wrists above my head, wanting to touch him, but he holds me in a vise, leaving me completely at his mercy as he drives me up almost to the headboard.
“Jesus, Olivia.”
In response, I turn my head, scraping my teeth down the side of his neck, smiling wickedly as it spurs him to an even faster pace.
I’ve never been like this before, wanton and wild, but it’s like he’s tapped into another side of me that I didn’t know existed. Gone is the girl who thought she wanted sweet words and gentle kisses. I only want him.
“More,” I whisper. “Please.”
Paul groans in response, releasing my wrists so that his hands can go to my knees. He presses my legs wider apart before lifting his head slightly. Just enough to look down at me, his blue eyes burning a dark slate gray.
Then he rotates his hips once, twice, pressing against me in just the right way. I’m closer to coming than I realized, and the way his pace increases, I don’t think I’m alone on the precipice.
I realize then how much we’ve lost ourselves in the other person. Enough to get stupid.
“Paul.” With my last bit of sanity I claw frantically at his shoulder. “Condom.”
He freezes. “Shit. Shit.”