I encircle his waist and he takes himself in his hand between us, positioning himself, positioning me. His look of concentration damn near pushes me over. And then he’s there, his tip nudging at my entrance, and I clamp down on my lower lip as I take his sweet invasion. He’s slow, measured, his restraint taking all his effort, and I know he doesn’t want to hurt me. He wants it to be right.
I move over him, coaxing him further, deeper, stretching to take him. More. More. Until he fills me completely and I moan, contracting around him even as he stills, his breath hissing between his teeth. He’s trembling, fighting for control. But I don’t want his control. I want his total abandon.
I nip his lower lip with my teeth, drawing his mouth back to me, pushing his concentration away, and I undulate over him, slowly at first, using my every yoga-toned muscle to guide him, tease him.
And then he’s moving, taking the driving seat. He forces me back against the wall, his rigid length riding my clit from within as he pumps harder, faster. Our teeth clash, our tongues twist, our kiss as erotic as the action below.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Pleasure radiates from my toes up and the muscles of my legs tighten as it builds. I can’t move now. He drives it all as ecstasy renders my body immobile and then it erupts, shaking through my entire body as I cry out. He thrusts deeper, his own cry drowning out my own, and he loses it with me.
It’s so perfect, so utterly right. But even as I come down from the crest of the wave, my legs still hooked around him, now limp with release, I know that’s a fanciful notion.
Because whatever his words mean, whatever his keeping the photo means, whatever the cause of his fallout with Nate, it doesn’t change the fact that my family won’t accept him. They won’t accept this. I doubt even Lucas will accept it when all is said and done.
And if that’s the case, what the hell am I doing fantasising about the impossible? Teasing myself with what if...?
He brushes his lips against my neck, his caress soft and barely there, and my thoughts fragment, disperse as sensation takes over...
‘I could get lost in you, Evangeline.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
I FEEL HER tense around me.
Fuck.
I curse my mammoth mouth.
What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t ever speak without thinking first. Yet she’s done this to me, with the turnaround in her no kissing rule and what it means to her, to me. There’s no way in hell I would usually say anything as sentimental, as deep as that—not if I’d taken the time to think first.
It was impulsive, reckless.
There can be no getting lost for me in anyone. Especially her. A Beaumont. The one woman with the power to crucify me, to rip my heart out and leave me stranded. Lost. I’ve been that person. I won’t be like that again.
‘What did you say?’
She encourages my head up and I shut my expression down with a grin. ‘Nothing.’
She’s frowning at me and I spin her into the water flow. It’s noisy in here—noisy enough for her to doubt she heard me right. I cling to that, setting her down on her feet.
‘Let me get rid of this... Stay here.’
I stride out of the shower, avoiding my reflection in the mirrors that run along one wall as if my reflection will only incriminate me further. There’s a bin in the bathroom but I don’t use it. I keep going until I’m in my bedroom and I can take a steadying breath out of sight, take a few seconds to gather my wits before I face her again.
Lost...
It wasn’t a lie.
My lungs contract, my chest aches. I strip off the condom and toss it in the wastebin beside the dressing table. My reflection in the mirror above it catches me, and I see the torrent of emotion in my face.
But it’s just sex. It has to be.
Sex now. Work later. The end.
I’d laugh if it wasn’t so brutal. So impossible to think of bringing an end to this thing between us.
She appears in the entrance to my bathroom, a towel wrapped around her, her brows drawn together, and I shut everything down under the wave of warmth the sight inspires.