He reached for her and kissed her and, dizzy with longing, Abby moaned into his mouth. He held her tighter, kissed her harder, and, unable to wait any longer, she reached between them, took him in her hand and sank slowly down onto him, groaning as her body took him in, adjusting to his size and then revelling in it.
‘My net profit,’ she murmured into his ear when he was lodged deep inside her, ‘was just under two.’
‘Enough,’ he growled, clamping her hips to him, then lifting his knee and rolling her over so that she lay beneath him, pinned to the bed by his big powerful body and his dark, intense gaze.
He lowered his head and kissed her and then began to move, slowly pulling out of her and then thrusting back, rolling his hips as she lifted her legs and wound them around his waist, and there was now nothing but searing heat and clamouring desire and the powerful, intoxicating journey to release.
Supporting himself on his elbows, Leo held her head in his hands as they kissed and moved together, and despite the thick fog in her head, the desire swirling through her that was growing stronger and stronger, she felt oddly cherished.
But she didn’t have time to wonder about it, wonder whether she should be concerned about it, because Leo was upping the pace and she couldn’t think about anything but the way he was making her feel. Electric and on fire and so very nearly there.
He was driving faster, harder, deeper. She could see the pulse hammering at the base of his neck, could feel the tension bunching the muscles of his shoulders, and could feel her response to it. Her body was tightening, the pleasure spiralling, the release she so desperately craved tantalisingly close yet still agonisingly out of reach.
And then he reached down, wound an arm around her lower back and tilted her pelvis, drove into her hard and deep and without warning she came, hard and fierce and long, her insides unravelling and stars exploding behind her eyelids as she gasped for breath and shook with pleasure, just as with a harsh groan Leo erupted inside her, pulsing into her and setting off a flurry of aftershocks that had her trembling and convulsing around him all over again.
How long they lay there Abby had no idea. She was too busy recovering from the most intense orgasm of her life to even think about looking at her watch. Too busy wondering whether her heart might have suffered permanent damage from all the extra beating it had done. Too busy thinking, Cherished? Cherished? What utter, sentimental heat-of-the-moment rubbish.
But eventually Leo lifted himself up, and stared down at her, looking as blown away as she felt, his eyes and his expression, for once, not shuttered. ‘Well, that proves a point, don’t you think?’ he muttered hoarsely, brushing a damp lock of hair off her forehead and frowning slightly as he tucked it behind her ear.
‘Possibly,’ she said, her breathing going skittery and her mouth drying at the caress. ‘But what exactly, and to whom?’
‘God knows.’
He shook his head as if to clear it, and she could feel the movement along the length of his body. On top of her. Inside her. It made her shiver, made her want more.
‘Maybe in a quest for clarity,’ she said, her heart beginning to pound against her ribs as heat wound through her, ‘we should try it again.’
‘Excellent thinking,’ he muttered and bent his head to kiss her.
* * *
Clarity might not have been achieved—despite the number of condoms they’d got through—but one very good point, thought Leo, yawning, rubbing a hand over his face and reading Abby’s note, was that whatever last night had been about, apart from endless and scorchingly hot, they weren’t done. Not nearly.
Apparently she’d left at ten this morning. She’d therefore been out of his bed for—he picked up his watch and glanced at it—approximately seven hours, but he wanted her back in it. Now.
Sitting up and dropping the note on the bedside table where he’d found it, Leo stretched to ease the not unwelcome ache in his muscles and wished she were there to relieve the ache in an altogether different part of his anatomy.
She should have woken him. He wouldn’t have minded. He had no plans for the weekend other than getting over jet lag, and so closing the curtains, shutting the door, blocking out everything but Abby for the next day or two would have reset his body clock nicely.
He wouldn’t have minded if she’d left a phone number either, but she hadn’t, although that obstacle wasn’t altogether insurmountable. If he wanted to call her, he could.
The question was, did he?
Despite what his brother might think he hadn’t exactly been a monk since his near miss of a marriage—he’d just been discreet and careful—but generally his relationships with women over the last five or so years had been short. As in less than twenty-four hours short, which suited him perfectly because he wasn’t interested in engagement of anything other than the physical kind.
The very thought of it, of having to actually talk to the women he took to bed, or, worse, have them trying to get to know him, brought him out in hives, so discreet, mutually beneficial one-night stands had always been fine with him. They scratched an itch, offered a distraction, relaxation, and, more importantly, never left him wanting more.
Abby, however, for some reason, did. Not a lot more, obviously, because a relationship was absolutely out of the question. He’d tried it once and look what had happened. His feelings had been trampled, his heart had been sliced into ribbons and his pride decimated.
However, another night he could probably handle. Maybe even two. And he probably needed them, actually, because the strength of his desire for her was undeniable. It was also odd. Unusual. A bit unnerving but strangely exhilarating.
As was Abby, because he didn’t think he’d ever come across anyone quite so open, so uninhibited, in the bedroom. To his surprise but delight, she’d had no qualms about telling him what worked for her and what didn’t, and she’d gone along with his suggestions with enthusiasm. Not sufferance. Enthusiasm. And a hell of a lot of it.
All of which was, apparently, addictive, because even though it went against his modus operandi of late he was up for more o
f it. Literally. And bordering on painfully.
The night had been fun, unexpectedly so, and he wanted a repeat, so would seeing her again really be that much of an issue?