“Oh, Mike,” she gasped, clenching his hair in her fists. He dropped kiss after wet kiss on her pussy as her speech became unintelligible. The only word he heard clearly was “please.” The sound of it made his balls draw up with longing.
He lifted his chin and kissed her belly. Then he pressed his face between her breasts and took a steadying breath. He’d waited two years for this moment. It was hard to believe it had finally arrived. When he rose to his full height, their gazes locked. Kicking the stool away, he leaned his forehead against her smoother one as he took himself in hand.
Then, finally, he pushed himself inside.
She gasped as her body welcomed him home. Her arms pulled him close, her face tucked into the hollow of his neck. He rocked into her.
Go slow, he reminded himself. Go slow. Go slow. He repeated it like a mantra. The problem was that he knew the pitfalls of going slow. Life didn’t wait. Death didn’t either. If Lauren gave him another chance, he was going to grab it with both hands and wrestle it into submission.
And while Mike fought a losing battle with his patience, Lauren seemed to be fighting her own. Each of her breaths sounded shorter and more urgent. In the many mirrors he caught the motion of their coupling. The sight of her splayed knees, and her hands grasping his pumping ass—it was almost too much.
He broke their kiss on a gasp, and took a deep breath. Don’t rush, he coached himself. Make it last.
Lauren looked up into his eyes, her face flushed, her pupils blown. “What’s the matter?” she whispered.
“Nothing.” I love you so hard, it hurts. “Just thinking I want to lay you out on that big bed.”
“So what’s stopping you?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Well then.
He picked her up and staggered through the giant bathroom and into the bedroom. It was harder than it looked in porn. He set her down awkwardly, an inappropriate bark of laughter issuing from his chest.
“Careful. Don’t injure yourself during play-offs season,” she said, smiling against his bare chest.
“I’m out of practice,” he said, nudging her back onto the bed. “Let’s see if I can remember how this is done.”
With her big, soft eyes holding his, she scooted backward onto the bed and lay down.
He knelt between her legs. “Is this right?”
“Almost,” she said softly.
He braced himself on either side of her body and sank down for a kiss. “And this?” He kissed her again before letting her answer, deeply this time. Her body went slack beneath him, and she made a happy noise. Soft hands reached for his hips.
They came together again, like a finely tooled lock sliding into place. She gasped into his kisses as he worked her over slowly. Every thrust moved him closer to the edge of bliss. He was shaking with anticipation by the time she cried out for him.
It was a sweet relief to let go then, chasing her over the edge, panting into her mouth, gasping as he burst with pleasure.
“Jeez,” she breathed as they both came down.
“That only took the edge off,” he said, kissing her. They rested together, saying nothing that couldn’t be said with hands and kisses and sighs.
“Let’s not talk,” she whispered at one point. “I’m all talked out.”
That was fine with him—for now, anyway. But sooner or later she was going to have to discuss their future. They had a future coming—he’d make sure of it.
FIFTEEN
Lauren slept very little that night. She and Mike would drift off together for a while, until one of them shifted and woke. In the privacy of darkness, hands would inevitably begin to caress and explore. Searching gave over to craving, until they found themselves locked in another sweaty embrace.
She lost count of the orgasms before they finally fell asleep for good. A couple of short hours later, she awoke one final time to light creeping under the draperies, and the sensation of Mike kissing her neck.
“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I have to go. But I wasn’t going to leave without saying good-bye.”
She wished he would have, actually. Even though last night had been amazing, now things would only get awkward. “Good-bye,” she said softly.
He smoothed the hair away from her face, smiling down at her. “Thank you for making me happy.”
“You’re welcome,” she said quickly. “I was pretty, uh, happy, too.” It was as good a euphemism as any.
“I really don’t want to walk away from you right now.” He traced the shape of her cheek with his thumb. “I want to take you out for breakfast and cuddle more.”
“Not happening,” she pointed out. “The bus boards in”—she checked the clock—“an hour. And I don’t want to be everyone’s gossip nugget this morning.”
He pulled a face. “There are women who’d sleep with me for the bragging rights. And the only one I want in my bed doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Well we tried that,” she pointed out. “And when it ended, the gossip followed me, but not you.”
He chewed his lip. “This won’t be solved today, I guess.”
Or ever. She patted his hand. “Go start your day. The play-offs wait for no man.”
He leaned down and kissed her very thoroughly, his stubble abrading her lips in the best possible way. “Bye, Lo. Bye for now.”
It was tempting to remind him that there weren’t going to be any repeats of last night’s festivities. But since he wanted to keep things happy, now wasn’t the right time to say that.
He left, and she got slowly out of bed, feeling deliciously sore in all the right places. It had been a long time since she’d felt this way—satisfied. Her sex life had been scant these past two years. She’d been out on a few dates, every one of them inspired by either loneliness or the desire to prove to herself that she could be wanted.
Ugh. It had been a crappy couple of years trying not to think about Mike Beacon. There was a small chance that last night’s shenanigans could help stop the tide of pathetic thoughts. And anyway, she had a pregnancy to plan and a new chapter in her life to welcome.
She went into the bathroom and stepped into the walk-in shower to wash her hair. She’d really expected to feel more regret right now. Maybe it would hit later. It was true what they said about releasing sexual tension—she felt too loose right now to worry about much of anything.
When she was nearly packed up and ready to roll, there came a tap on the door. Lauren opened it to reveal Georgia. “Morning!” the publicist said. “I come in search of my garment bag and Becca’s manicure tackle box. She asked me to fetch it for her.” Georgia raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think she’d ask me to do that?”
Lauren had no clue. “I had to tuck her in last night. She drank a little and got woozy. It wasn’t that embarrassing, though.” She opened the door wider to admit Georgia.
“Oh, no! Is she okay? I would have helped.”
“She’s fine. I sent Nate to check on her later.”
“Do you think . . . ?” Georgia’s eyebrows rose. “Maybe something happened between her and Nate last night?”