I grinned and willed my mind to get myself under control. It had been too long since we slept together. And, now that I could see him clearly again, all I wanted to do was jump his bones. Except that I knew he needed something more than sex tonight. Sex might make him forget, but it wouldn’t heal anything.
When I came eye-to-eye with him, I noticed how ragged he looked. Still sexy as hell but beaten down. Vanessa was trying to undo him. And, while he stood tall and had the presence of the brilliant CEO that he was, I knew him well enough to know that he was lost and crumbling into that dark place in his chest. A place from which I feared he would not return.
“Have you slept at all?” I asked.
He cocked his head to the side and stared off into space. “Sleep doesn’t get anything done. There’s too much work, too much to deal with for sleeping.”
I sighed. I was sure that, in his head, that was true. But I also knew that his body would start to shut down, and he had to be cognizant tomorrow. To be able to face Marc and not lose control again around him, not like the time he’d beaten his face in after Vanessa had told him about the affair. He needed to be sharp.
Wordlessly, I took his hand.
He stared down at it with a mixture of awe and concern. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” I asked, bringing his hand up to my lips and kissing it.
“Be here.”
“Don’t I?”
“No.”
“You’re wrong.”
“All too often.”
“You need me,” I whispered, drawing him closer to me. “So, I’m here.”
“Good,” he said, his voice deep and guttural. A feral sound that bordered on hysteria.
“And I know what you need.”
“That so?” he asked.
I could see in his eyes that he thought I meant everything sexual. A thought that had obviously crossed my mind. I wanted that to make him feel better, but I knew he needed so much more.
I held on to his hand and pulled him down the hallway without another word.
Our relationship might have been a bumpy ride. We had secrets. We’d traded lies. We’d tried to find ways to fit the other into the mess that we’d been living in. But, at the end of the day, I knew Jensen Wright. I’d chosen him, and I’d be here for him through the worst of it.
When we entered his bedroom, I languidly tugged his shirt over his head. Lust swirled in his eyes as I did it, and I knew, if I gave in, neither of us would sleep ever again. We’d stay in bed all night. Lost in our own desires.
He reached for my shirt, but I stopped him.
“Uh-uh. Look but no touch,” I warned him.
He fumed but dropped his hands. I flicked the button on his jeans, dragged them down his legs, and watched as he kicked them off, leaving him in his tight boxer briefs. He was rock hard for me, and it took everything in my power not to lick my lips.
I directed him into bed, and he went willingly. What man wouldn’t?
Then, I stripped out of my jeans and T-shirt. Jensen looked ready to launch himself across the room when he saw the black lace set I’d been wearing for him on New Year’s Eve. But I hastily threw on his T-shirt, which was way too big for me.
Then, I turned out all the lights and crawled into bed. He reached for me as soon as I was under the covers, pressing his dick firmly against my ass and squeezing me tight to his chest.
“You’re killing me,” he breathed into my neck.
“I just came here to help,” I whispered.
“This is helping.” He thrust against my ass, and I squeezed my legs together.
“You need to sleep.”
“You think I’m going to sleep after seeing you in lingerie?” he asked, as if I were insane.
With effort, I turned to face him and saw his dark eyes filled with lust. I wanted this. He wanted this. But I didn’t trust myself to stop.
With Jensen Wright, there were only two speeds—more and, God, more.
I gently placed my hand on his chest and slightly pushed him away. “You need to sleep. You’re a walking zombie. I came over to help you. I don’t think marathon sex is going to help.”
“It’s not going to hurt,” he groaned.
He slid his hand up and down my side, fisting his shirt and exposing my stomach and lace thong. His hand snagged on the material, and he flicked it with his thumb. It snapped against my skin, causing my whole body to clench up.
“Jensen,” I moaned. My walls were weakening.
He pushed into the space I’d put between us and ran the stubble of his chin across my shoulder and up my neck.
His voice rasped into my earlobe as he tugged on it. “Let me make you come, Emery. I want your taste on my lips.”
“Fuck,” I whispered.
He took that as a yes and slipped the rest of my clothes off of me with aching slowness. First, the T-shirt went over my head. Then, he snapped my bra off and tossed it off the bed. Finally, he dragged my thong down my knees and over my feet. I shivered the whole way down. He removed his own boxer briefs next with much less care, and just when I thought he was going to give me what I wanted, he flipped me over on top of him.
His dick nudged at my wet opening, and it took everything in me not to rock back onto him. I eased down, savoring the feel of him. Just the head…just the tip…just an inch…maybe two. My body tightened around him, wanting to feel him fill me up.
But then he stopped me and pulled me off of his dick. I groaned with dissatisfaction.
“Jensen…”
“Sit on my face,” he demanded.
My eyes found his in shock. “Seriously?”
“I said I wanted to taste you. This is how I want to taste you.”
I hesitantly edged forward until my pussy was directly over his lips. Then, he clamped his hands down on my ass cheeks and ground his face up into my body. I cried out as he ravaged me from below. My hands jerked out and landed on the headboard, bracing myself as my body abandoned my control.