She’d just lifted her arms back to unhook her bra when Noah moved. She saw it out of the corner of her eye, stumbled when his weight hit her, but he had his hands tight on her hips, kept her upright.
“Noah,” she gasped, feeling the hard push of his cock against her lace-covered butt.
“Now, Kit,” he said harshly. “Now, while I only have you in my head.”
Kit didn’t argue. If Noah thought now was the time, now it would be. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t burning up for him. “Yes,” she said.
He turned her to the wall, pushed her forward. It was rough but controlled, Noah’s hands holding on to her until she’d braced her palms against the wall. Her chest heaved, her breasts swelling against the cups of her bra. She made a low, needy sound in her throat when he pulled down the scrap of her panties… and then they just tore, the ribbon ties on either side snapping like they were made of paper.
She felt his hands moving behind her, heard the sound of a belt buckle being opened, the metallic rasp of a zipper being lowered, braced herself for him. She was ready, her body melting, but at that moment, a dark, twisted fear invaded her heart. He was taking her from the back, the way he’d no doubt taken many of those other women. Was that all she’d become? Did he even remember who she was anymore?
Something ripped.
A condom wrapper.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he ground out.
Her panicked heart interpreted that to mean he was keeping a barrier between them. Part of her knew that was stupid, that he was doing the right thing, but her panic grew and grew. She couldn’t bear it if they did this and—
His hands back on her hips. Spinning her around, strands of her hair sticking to her cheeks, he grabbed her face in his hands and kissed her so hard that their teeth collided. But that was okay, that was better than okay, because he had his eyes open and he was looking at her and he knew damn well who it was he held.
“Kit,” he said, stroking his callused, gifted hands down her body and lifting her just enough that he could thrust into her.
Hard. Fast. Deep.
A guttural scream ripped out of her. She’d thrown out her hands for balance when he spun her, clawed at the wall as he pulled out then slammed back in. Barely able to hold herself together, she put her hands on his face, on that part of him he so rarely allowed anyone to touch, and held him, their eyes locked together and their breaths colliding as he pounded her into the wall.
The scent of him was hot, masculine, and Noah. Just Noah.
Her body knew his, wanted his, and her heart, it was his.
Her orgasm was inevitable. The last things she saw were Noah’s eyes looking into hers, the dark gray wild. His body slammed into her one final time and went rigid, his fingers digging into her flesh and his chest crushing her breasts.
Her hands never left his face.
And she heard him say “Kit” again a heartbeat before the world became nothing but a wrenching kaleidoscope of pleasure.
Noah shuddered through the clawing, violent pleasure of his orgasm. It gripped him, shook, but what held him even more tightly was Kit’s touch on his face, her skin against his.
Legs shaky afterward, he pulled out of her and got rid of the condom by trying to chuck it in the neat wicker trash basket Kit kept on one side of the room. He was fairly certain he missed, but Kit could be pissed with him for that later. Right now he just wanted to hold her.
Tumbling them both onto the bed, Kit’s eyes dazed when they opened, he braced himself over her just enough that he wasn’t crushing her. Her breasts, still cupped by black lace, moved against his chest, and her breath kissed his face. She lifted a trembling hand, stroked his jaw. It felt good, felt fucking great.
“You can have the romantic bullshit now,” he said, being the hard man when the truth was that he needed the romantic bullshit.