He glanced up at her as his mouth played at her breast, finding her watching him with cloudy blue eyes.
“Still feeling the hate?” he asked roughly.
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
Rewarding her, Vincent slid down her body, releasing her hands as he did so, gratified when her fingers instantly found his head, running through his hair.
He kissed each of her ribs, taking his time, listening to her panting breaths, before he pulled back and glared at her robe, which was still hooked on her arms and kept getting in his way every time she moved.
“Off,” he commanded.
For once, she didn’t argue. She sat up, slightly tugging her arms free of the bulky fabric before yanking it away and tossing it aside.
“Better?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
In response, his hand flattened across her chest, pushing her back to the bed as his mouth continued its downward descent, his fingers trailing over her rib cage until they reached the top of her panties.
He watched her eyes as he pulled her underwear down and off. There was no shyness in her eyes—only hunger.
And then she was naked, and Vincent’s own hunger ratcheted up a notch or two. His fingers trailed over the inside of her ankles, and it occurred to him that one of them should feel worried about the line they were about to cross.
But Vincent didn’t want to think about tomorrow. Didn’t want to think about anything other than running his lips up the inside of her calves.
So he did.
His lips lingered on her skin, trailing up and down her lean legs, learning her taste. His hands wrapped around her ankles, pushing them up so he had access to the soft, sweet skin behind her knees.
By the time he reached her inner thighs, letting his mouth plant wet kisses to the supple skin there, she was right where he wanted her—panting and eager.
His teeth scraped her inner thigh and she arched off the bed, his name a plea on her lips.
Only then did he give her what she wanted.
Vincent waited until she’d once more met his eyes.
Then he licked her.
Slow and slick, his tongue worked over her, learning what she liked and where she liked it.
Jill’s hands found his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and Vincent swore softly against her wet flesh.
His cock pressed hard and angry against the fly of his jeans, and he reached down to adjust himself even as his tongue fluttered over her.
“Vin.” Her voice was breathier now. Panicked.
In response he slid his hands beneath her ass, pulling her all the way against his mouth as she exploded in a torrent of sharp cries and maybe a few naughty words.
Vincent kissed his way up her body. He’d planned to give her a few minutes to recover, but her hands were already at his waistband, her fingers making quick work of the buttons on his jeans before sliding those and his briefs over his ass.
He started to pull back to pull them off, but her hands held his hips.
“Now.”
Vincent let out a harsh, tortured laugh. “Condom. Tell me you have condoms.”
“I do.” Her thumb ran over his lip. “I’m also on the pill, and just got tested for all the fun stuff.”
He groaned against her neck, because he too checked out these things on a regular basis, and the thought of sliding inside her, skin on skin…
Vin rolled on top of her, hands sliding beneath her hips as he angled her just right…
He thrust inside her with one firm, smooth stroke that had her arching off the bed.
So. Fucking. Tight.
And perfect. She was perfect.
When he was all the way buried inside her, he stayed perfectly still, feeling her clamp around him, his breath hot and urgent against her neck.
He pulled his hips back slowly before thrusting forward again. Repeated the process again, pulling out slowly, thrusting in hard. And again. Jill picked up his rhythm immediately.
Vincent tried to keep the pace slow and deliberate, but when Jill’s legs lifted, her ankles locked around his ass, arching up to him, he lost it.
His hands held her hips, pinned her lower body to the bed as he buried himself again and again in her small, hot body.
He came harder than he ever had before, erupting with an inhuman roar as he exploded inside her.
Perfect. Fucking perfect.
His mind went blank with pleasure then, and when consciousness finally returned, he was slumped on top of her and she was moving uncomfortably beneath him.
He pulled back. “Sorry.” His voice was gruff. “Too heavy?”
“No,” she said, her own voice raspy. “It’s just… your buttons.”
Vincent glanced down and let out a little laugh as he realized that he was still completely clothed, his pants down around his knees like a high school virgin who couldn’t wait even five seconds longer.
He rolled off her, starting to pull his pants back up, but her small fingers wrapped around his wrist.
“What are you doing?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Getting dressed?”
Hers lifted right back. “Take it off, Moretti. All of it.”
The command was casual—joking, but the sentiment behind it…
“You want me to… stay?”