Fighting Love (Love to the Extreme, #2)

With his mouth to her ear, he walked them into the spray of the shower and murmured, “Watching you come yesterday was so fucking hot. I want to see it again.”


Inserting two fingers deep inside her, he pressed the heel of his palm against her intimately.

She clutched his wrist and moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder. He nipped the side of her neck as he started moving his fingers inside her.

“I’m the first man to give you one of those, aren’t I?”

Panting, she nodded. He’d known by the shock on her face as the orgasm had taken her, but a fierce possessiveness stormed through him at her acknowledgment, and his arm tightened around her.

“I’ll be the only man to give you one.”

Curving his fingers just right as he thrust, he pulled that intense release out of her again.

Wetness saturated his hand as her entire body stiffened against his, and he took in the beauty of her in the throes of release.

She’d stolen his ability to breathe yesterday, and she did so again now as she finally found her voice and screamed, her muscles convulsing around him. When he’d pulled the last quake from her body, he removed his hand. One night he was going to give those to her over and over again, and take his pleasure simply by watching her.

She slowly turned in his arms, her head lolling on his chest. Then she dropped to her knees before him and looked up at him, water cascading over her shoulders and slicking down her body.

That unbidden catch happened in his chest again.

The woman was the most breathtaking creature to walk the planet.

“You got to have your fun. Now I want to have mine,” she murmured mischievously.

The feel of her slender fingers wrapping around him made him jerk, but he wasn’t fool enough to stop her. He wanted to feel her lips around him. Feel the suction.

Then he did. The sweet, wet heat of her mouth encased him. “Julie— Oh, fuck me!”

As she bobbed up and down, gently cupping his balls, he was aware of nothing but her.

Closing his eyes, he groaned, knotting his fingers in the back of her hair. Nothing compared to the pull of her mouth. The vibration of her moans. He’d never get enough of this. He could live the rest of his life pleasing this woman and her pleasing him.

When he felt his release coming, he lifted her up and pinned her against the wall. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he blindly fumbled for the foil packet, ripped it open, sheathed himself then thrust deep inside her. He kissed her, deep and slow, keeping the same pace with his hips.

Even. Steady. He flicked his tongue across hers as he pulled back and rocked forward. The slow rhythm felt amazing. “Oh, shit,” he groaned against her lips. “So damn good.”

The breathless hitches of her moans as he thrust into her kept him spellbound, and he lifted his head to look at her. Eyes closed, wet hair clinging to her face, she dropped her head back against the tile. He wanted to watch her lips part in the sharp gasps he could elicit.

Beautiful music he could listen to for a lifetime. The sound of Julie being taken—by him.

As he quickened his pace, she gifted him with her desire, pushed him closer to the brink with each sucked inhale, each murmured plea, each heart-tugging moan. When she shuddered and clamped around him as another orgasm took her, he followed her over the edge.

And for one brief, amazing moment, he actually wanted to believe they could always be like this. Together. That he was somehow capable of being everything she needed—everything she deserved.

That he could be her man.



A few days later, Julie walked into the clinic after lunch. Tommy had surprised her at the house, and she’d ended up having to stop at the drive-through on the way back. It had been like that all week. The man was insatiable. Muscles she’d never used before pleasantly ached after he’d introduced her to positions she’d only ever heard about. He had shown her a whole new world of sex. Taught her things about her body she had never known. One being that she was capable of multiple orgasms…not just two, but many. God, so many. He’d continued pulling them out of her until she’d had to beg him to stop, not being able to handle another one.

And he’d loved every moment. The man truly believed himself capable of only thinking about the physical, but he was so wrong. That would have meant focusing only on his own pleasure.

Since there wasn’t a single time he hadn’t made her feel like warm jelly, the man was a born lover, not a man who simply fucked.

Melody whistled as she spun her chair and leaned back. “Girl, I’ll have what you’re having.

Damn. Who is he, and does he have a brother?”

Julie chuckled and sat at her desk. “That obvious, huh?”

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