She sniffed, though her eyes were dark with desire. “I…I felt that, Sloane. It wasn’t…it wasn’t like before, but you kissing me…”
He quickly moved to his feet and crushed his mouth to hers. She gasped and pressed her body to his. His hard cock rocked against her belly and he groaned.
When he pulled away, he moved them both to the bed then pulled her pants down in a quick move. She gasped and laughed when they caught on her shoes.
He snorted, then undid her shoes and threw her pants across the room. “Next time we take our shoes off at the door.”
She met his gaze. “Deal.”
He quickly pulled off his clothes—shoes first—and climbed into bed with her. They kissed again, their hands roaming over each other’s bodies until they were both left breathless. When she went to grip his cock, he stilled her.
“If you touch me right now, I’ll come and ruin the rest of our night.” He groaned when she slid her foot up his calf. “I’m not as young as I once was.”
“I forgot I’m dating such an older man.”
He let her go, only to reach around and smack her ass. “Sassy.”
“You know it.”
Sloane licked his lips then cursed before getting up and searching for his wallet and the condom he’d left in there.
“That thing still good?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said and came back to her while rolling the condom on his length. “I put it there this morning.”
“Feeling cocky?” she teased.
He covered her body before he pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance. “You’re about to feel my cock.”
She groaned. “Bad joke, Sloane.”
“True, but you’ll still feel it. All of it.” With that, he kissed her again, thrusting his hips and filling her in one move. They both groaned, their bodies shaking.
“You’re…bigger than I thought.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Thank you.” He kissed her. “And you’re fucking tight as hell.”
“Thank you,” she teased then gasped as he moved.
He tangled their fingers together and kept his gaze on hers. Her eyes darkened and her mouth parted as they made love, slowly, eternally. They’d be different another time, be harder, hotter, or whatever they needed. But for now, for that moment, they were them.
He wasn’t a poet, wasn’t someone in touch with his feelings, but with Hailey under him, her trust and body in his arms—literally—he felt like he could die right then and find heaven.
Though he didn’t want to leave her, didn’t want to lose her.
As he thrust once more, her pussy clenching around him like a vise, he came with her, their hearts beating as one, their breaths coming in pants.
She was his, if only for the moment.
And if he tried hard enough, he might not fuck it up. But he knew himself, knew his past.
He wanted her, wanted this until the end of his days, but he was Sloane Gordon, and he didn’t get happy endings.
He never had…and he never would.
Chapter Five
Hailey was sore in all the best places and out of her damn mind. She and Sloane had made love two more times the night before—despite Sloane saying he wasn’t a young man anymore. He might be a full decade older than her, but there was nothing old about those moves of his.
While she’d always known they’d be explosive in bed—there was no way a man built like Sloane, a man so good with his hands, would be anything but amazing—she hadn’t known it would be that…hot.
He’d been so slow and careful at first—each kiss, each breath pleasure-filled and achingly tender. And as they explored one another, their heat ramped up and turned…molten.
Her heart hurt at the thought of how sweet and sexy he’d been.
And now she had no idea what the hell she was going to do.
They hadn’t talked about what this meant, what their future would hold because that would be too important. They were taking things slow. Well, as slow as they could since they’d already slept together. But she had to remember, they’d been dancing around one another for years.
Falling into bed with one another was inevitable.
Falling in love with him was as well.
If only she knew if he could fall for her.
It hadn’t escaped her notice that while she’d told him her secrets, he hadn’t done the same for her. She had a feeling it had to do with the scars that marred his body—the depravity of which surprised her. He’d been hurt. Badly. And she hadn’t known the depth of that pain. She wanted to, and she prayed that he would tell her what had happened.
But that wouldn’t happen unless and until he was ready.
Just because she’d been ready to finally tell him of her past didn’t mean he was ready as well. It wasn’t fair of her to put her own timeline on his needs. If they kept going as they were, sure and steady, hopefully he’d feel ready to reveal.
Hopefully, he’d open up more and more and be the man she knew he could be beneath the gruff edges.