And the act of forcing her body to fit his while he searched her eyes was intensely intimate. This was so raw, so animalistic, so blatant, so deliberate, so…erotic. And all the sensations created by his slow penetration—the stretch and push and tug and burn and pressure—had her wriggling for more. She released his shoulders to try for more leverage on his forearms and managed to push off the wall, lift her hips, and take him deeper.
Excitement rippled through Giselle’s pelvis. “Ah, God…”
His eyes fell closed, and a growl rolled from his throat.
She pulled back and thrust again, taking him a little deeper. He joined her rhythm, and within seconds, he was so deep, Giselle’s throat ached with the fullness. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was fierce and hot and determined, a look she recognized from the club. A look that shot the unique thrill only he produced through her blood. But there was something else there too, something softer, something deeper, something more human, more Troy. Something that pulled hard at Giselle’s heart.
How had she lived so long without him? How in the hell was she going to go back to that way of life when this was over? The thoughts made tears cluster in her eyes again, blurring his handsome face.
He dug his fingers into her hips and drew his length almost completely out on a long low groan, then pulled her in as he thrust home, their meeting so hard and so fast, Giselle cried out, her eyes closed, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. If Troy noticed, he didn’t care. He immediately repeated the motion in a way that told Giselle this was the ride to the finish line. And she was on board, locked in, because it was just that damn good.
Each and every thrust was the same complete, powerful stroke. Steady, steady, steady perfection. The kind of perfection that took her completely out of place and time. The kind she never wanted to end.
Sweat gathered along her neck, her chest, between
her breasts, beneath his hands on her thighs. His face glistened. Dark areas stained his shirt. The muscles in his arms and legs quivered. But he never paused, never slowed. Just drove her higher and higher, then quickened his pace when she showed signs of climax.
And with her body still thrumming from the first orgasm, she rose quick and broke hard, gripping fistfuls of his shirt to ride out the spasms.
Troy paused only long enough to lean in and kiss her deeply, his mouth loose and warm, whispering, “Ready for another?” before pulling back and gripping her hips again.
“No, no…” She dropped her head against the wall, still trying to catch her breath. She was exhausted from the day, from the stress, from two full-body orgasms in a row. “No more.”
“Thank God,” he rasped, wiping his forehead on the shoulder of his shirt before pressing it to hers. “I forget I can’t promise you the moon.”
He cupped her face in one hand and kissed her deeply, slowly, while he rocked his hips. His cock slid easily inside her. He growled a groan and picked up that same sweet rhythm, quickly rising to his own orgasm, one that raged through his body, twisting his muscles and pulling guttural sounds from his throat.
He slumped against her, pressing her to the wall for long, sated moments while he caught his breath. But he eased out of her too soon, lowered her feet to the floor, and replaced the clip of her dress at the base of her neck. Then he stepped back and hiked up his own jeans a little.
Still dizzy, she pressed a hand to her temple and lifted a smile to him with a quip about him stealing her brain’s blood supply on her lips, but the look on his face froze the words on her tongue. He wore the same cool, closed-off expression he had that morning in the cave. As if the last twelve hours had never happened.
“Troy?” she said, suddenly off-balance again. “What’s…?”
“Now, I am kicking you out.” His voice was casual, but cool enough to prickle a chill over her skin. He ran both hands through his hair, pushing it off his face and met her gaze with a deliberate, “And don’t expect a repeat performance. This won’t happen again. It’s over, El. Time to put the past behind us.”
The harsh rejection stung. “Troy—”
He turned away and started toward the suite, slapping her ass in the process. A squeak of surprise pushed aside the argument brewing in her heart just before he dismissed her with, “Make sure the door closes when you leave.”
Without looking back, he sauntered down the short hallway and turned into a room, closing the door behind him.
All Giselle’s air leaked from her lungs and left a sharp ache throbbing beneath her ribs.
What the…?
Water ran behind the closed door, snapping Giselle out of her shock. Hurt flushed her system, quickly transforming into anger. Anger exploded in fury.
That piece of shit.
Rage, hurt, and shame took turns slicing at her heart and self-worth.
The burning need to barge into that bathroom and tell him just what she thought of being treated like nothing more than another one of his slutty one-night stands made Giselle fist her hands and clench her teeth.
Then the water turned off, and reality cut into her thoughts. Where would that get her? Deeper into heartache. Deeper into resentment. Deeper into self-hatred.
No.
She purposely exhaled, pivoted, and swung the hotel room door open.