Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)

He collapsed on her, a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs, and lips, and desire, sated at last.

She ran her hands through his hair and sighed softly against him. It was unequivocally the best night of his life, but he also winced inside with the awareness of how much harder it would be to say good-bye now that he’d experienced all of her.

Until she said the next words.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


Wow.

Just wow.

That was out of this world.

She lay on the bed in a sea of rumpled sheets, Michael’s strong arms wrapped around her sweat-slicked frame, her heart beating like a hummingbird, and she blinked open her eyes.

All her senses were heightened, and she felt new, like she was experiencing having a body again after a deep, dreamless sleep.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Each inhalation sent air rushing through her blood, waking her up, nudging her, reminding her that this was life, this was sex, and this was good.

It had been so much more than good.

She’d seen stars, tasted heaven, breathed rare air. Her skin tingled all over, and her blood pulsed hot and fast from her climax. She’d never come like that before. She felt it humming in her bones. Skimming across her skin.

And hammering in her heart, insisting on being heard. She wanted more of him. So much that the thought of not having him again already hurt—like a phantom pain, a promise of how it would feel if she let him go. The prospect of flying home in two days and leaving this bliss behind made her chest ache, like it had been carved out once more.

She was tired of hollowness. Tired of hurting. She wanted more of the good. She turned in his arms, facing him. “Michael…” Her voice sounded hoarse to her own ears; all that moaning his name had taken a toll. “I’m going to need so much more of that from you.”

Her gaze locked on his, watching the slow spread of his smile, the way it stretched across his whole face, how his blue eyes seemed to flicker with happiness.

He kissed her cheek, whispering soft and sexy. “With me, you can have everything.”

The sentiment made her shudder, and yet she wasn’t talking about more sex, per se. Or even more sex in the next few days. She pressed a hand to his naked chest, needing to make sure he understood exactly. “What I mean is…” She stopped to let a breath fill her lungs, fueling her admission. “I want to see you again. I don’t want this—whatever it is—to end when we leave New York.”

His features froze. His lips were parted, his jaw was set, and his eyes were vulnerable. He didn’t move, as if he were slowly absorbing her request. Soon enough, though, he found words, his voice gravelly. His question came out as a scratch. “You do?”

She nodded vigorously. “I do. Maybe that is crazy. Do you think it’s crazy?”

He shook his head. “No!” flew off his tongue.

The speed of his response emboldened her. That, combined with the endorphins still rushing through her system, drove her on. “I just,” she began, running her fingers through the fine hairs on his chest. “I just would be so sad to leave New York and not see you again. And I don’t have a plan, or an agenda, or anything beyond the here and now. All I know is I want to see more of you. Which probably sounds…” Her voice trailed away, lost in the noises of late-night New York floating through the window.

“Sounds what?” he asked, prompting her.

“You probably think it sounds too hard, since I’m in Paris and you’re in Las Vegas, and that’s how it was before,” she said, worried that they were facing the same obstacles, those very ones that had splintered them years before.

That sexy smile returned, tugging at his lips as he shook his head. “No. It’s not crazy at all. We’re not the same as we were before. The distance—it’s not as daunting. We have the means to deal with it.”

She nodded. “Yes, we do. And all I know is that I don’t want this to end.”

He pulled her closer, held her tighter. “That’s enough for me to fly across an ocean for you.”

He dusted her lips with his—a soft, sweet kiss that was both gentle and thrilling at once. On his lips, she swore she could taste his happiness, and she kissed more, taking some of it for herself.

They chatted in bed, talking about friends and family, work and music, photographs and security. Every now and then a small shard of latent guilt stabbed at her, but she pushed past her nagging worries. She wanted to savor these moments with Michael. This time with him was the sweetest thing she’d experienced in a while, and she’d rather revel in it, especially after so long of having felt the opposite.