27

Will turned his head and his cheek brushed against something warm and soft. He opened his eyes. Mira’s hair. Mira’s dim hotel room, Mira’s head on his chest, Mira’s small body breathing slowly and steadily next to him as she slept, Mira’s leg draped across his.

He rarely slept—actually slept —with another person, and he sure as hell didn’t cuddle. If he went to bed with someone, he usually got her out of there shortly after the fun stuff had concluded. Not that he’d done that in a while. It had been ages, now that he thought about it. Not since …

Mira sighed in her sleep. Not since this had started. Whatever this was.

He reached down and eased his phone from his pocket, checking the time before he set it on the bedside table. Two thirty. This felt … nice. He wanted to close his eyes and sink back to sleep, pressed up against her warm body. But would she freak out when she woke up in the morning and discovered they’d spent the night sleeping together?

Just then, she shifted. Her hand contracted, gripping his waist, sending a zing of awareness through his body, as he imagined her doing that intentionally when she was wide-awake. Then she lifted her head and peered up at him through a tangle of blond curls.

She looked rumpled and adorable and hot as hell.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” she whispered back.

He was half expecting her to scramble off the bed, to start babbling excuses, then chase him out of her room. She didn’t. She just looked back at him, with something he couldn’t quite define in her expression.

Raising his hand, he brushed her hair out of her face, tracing the shape of her cheek as he did. “Want me to go?”

Her big green eyes stayed fixed on his for another long moment as she considered. Something changed in her eyes. All that misery from earlier had faded away in her sleep, to be replaced by … something that looked like hunger. Slowly she shook her head. “No, I don’t want you to go.”

Then she pushed herself up on her elbow, leaned in, and kissed him.

He froze for a beat, overwhelmed by her sleep-softened mouth on his, and the press of her breasts under the thin layer of her dress against his chest. Then her lips moved, a sweet sensual caress of his, and everything in him woke up, suddenly, painfully alert. His hand, which had been hanging uncertainly in the air, found its way into her hair and he kissed her back.

But just before they’d fallen asleep, she’d said he was one of the good ones. And a good one should not make a move on his friend when she was emotionally wrecked.

“Mira,” he whispered against her mouth. “Are you sure?”

She lifted her head enough to look him in the eye. “I’m tired of denying myself something I want so much,” she said, before pressing her lips to his once again.

When she kissed him this time, he didn’t stop her or hold back in any way. He took her face in his hands and returned the kiss, letting himself indulge in the heat of her mouth. When she tipped her head to catch a breath, he rolled over, pushing her onto her back, and he kept kissing, dropping one on each dimple, and more along her jaw and down her neck, reveling in her startled gasp and the way her fingers fisted into his hair. God, he’d wanted her like this for so long. His pulse was pounding with need, but he didn’t want to rush it. Not now, when he had her at last.

His fingers found the thin silky strap of her dress and he toyed with it, tugging it tight against her shoulder and then releasing, as he drew his tongue through the shallow hollow at the base of her throat.

Mira moaned, a soft sound of sensual delight, and then she dropped her shoulder, sending the strap of her dress slithering down her arm. Such a small gesture, but his cock pulsed in response, at the sight of her bare shoulder, and at the promise of more.

Pushing himself up on one elbow, he reached for the other strap. He met her gaze briefly, checking in that she was okay to go further. Her lashes lowered as her teeth caught her kiss-swollen bottom lip and she nodded. Slowly, he slipped the other strap over her shoulder, and kept dragging, watching as the silky black fabric slid down her chest, caught briefly on her hardened nipples, and then down her rib cage. He stopped when it was nothing but a pool of fabric around her waist.

He’d been right earlier. No bra. Fuck.

He let out a strangled sound, somewhere between an exhale and a grunt, as he gazed down at her breasts, pale, perfectly shaped, rosy-tipped.

“Mira …”

Smiling, she took his hand in hers and raised it, settling it over one breast. The gentle weight felt perfect in his palm. He squeezed, then rolled her nipple between his fingers, and she let out another soft moan of pleasure, arching her head back, with her eyes closed. He was so hard he felt like he might die.

Dipping his head, he replaced his fingers with his mouth. For endless minutes, he lingered there, despite the desperate straining of his cock. The silence of the hotel room broken only by the rustle of their clothes and her occasional sighs of pleasure. He didn’t stop, even when she was writhing underneath him.

“Will.” His name came out as a breathy exhale. “Please,” she murmured, clutching at his shoulders.

“With pleasure,” he murmured. He reached down with his left hand, at first just resting it on her knee. Slowly, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across the soft skin of the inside of her knee. Her legs fell open, the muscles in her thighs relaxing. Drawing his palm up the top of her thigh, he pushed her dress up as he dragged his head up from her chest to kiss her mouth again.

Her kisses were frantic with her desire, as were her hands, running through his hair, down over his shoulders, gripping him anywhere she could reach.

When his fingers touched her knickers, she jerked under him. He stopped there, stroking over the fabric softly, listening to her increasingly desperate breathing. Her thighs fell open, allowing him to sweep aside the fabric and touch her, the slick, wet heat of her. This time it was his turn to moan. He wanted to thrust himself inside her until he exploded, but he also wanted this to last forever. As long as possible. All night.

He explored her, rubbing the length, dipping inside and back out, and then finally, up to the sensitive heart of her. Her hands stilled, clutching his biceps as he set up a steady, stroking pace. Against his mouth, she gasped as he drew her closer to the edge. Her thighs clamped around his hand, but he didn’t stop. She broke their kiss, her head falling back. She arched up, strung taut, ready to fly. Her thighs trembled around his hand and she gasped for air, every tiny pant ending in a whimper as he drove her closer to the edge. Finally he tipped her into her release, drawing it out until she went slack underneath him again.

“YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL when you do that,” Will whispered in her ear, and Mira weakly raised her hand to run her fingers through his thick, silky hair. Her body was still humming, little aftershocks of pleasure zipping along her limbs, and he was still kissing her, down her neck, her shoulder, her cheek.

“I want to fuck you, Mira,” he murmured against her skin. “Can I?”

His words were like a match tossed onto kindling, and her body went up in flames. She wanted him so badly.

“Yes.”

She hooked her hand behind his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him hard. He pressed her back down onto the bed, rolling over onto her. She moaned into his mouth, finally—finally—feeling the weight of him pinning her to the bed.

His kiss was hard and hungry, his tongue sliding along hers, his teeth nipping at her lips. He shifted his weight and his knee slid between hers until his thigh was pressed right against her sex. She was still so sensitive that she felt like she could just press herself against him and come again, but that wasn’t what she wanted this time. She’d finally quit this war she’d been fighting with herself. She was letting herself have him and she wanted every single inch of him tonight.

She worked a hand between their bodies, so she could unbutton his shirt, but she couldn’t manage it. Rearing off her, he brushed her hands away, and took care of the buttons. She’d seen his bare chest before. She’d seen most of him bare at one point or another. But never like this, in this dimly lit room, tangled in bed together, with his hungry eyes roving over her body as he imagined what he was about to do to her. She shivered with the delicious anticipation of it.

When he’d gotten his shirt open, he shrugged out of it and tossed it to the floor. She watched the gold light play across the ripples of his muscles as he moved, and her mouth literally began to water. She wanted to explore every dip and ridge on his body, first with her hands and then with her mouth.

He dropped back on the bed, on his back, silently inviting her to explore. She reached out her hand and laid her palm on his chest, right on his breastbone, spreading her fingers over his warm skin. A smile curled his lips as she made her way across, and when she brushed his nipple, the muscles of his abdomen clenched. So she bent over him and took a swipe at him with her tongue, too.

He hissed, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her hair. “Mira …”

She broke off and sat up, shimmying her rumpled dress back up her body and off over her head. He watched her, one hand fisted in the bedspread and the other tracing over her shoulder, along the side of her breast, and down to her hip. His finger caught in the band of her thong. “This, too,” he murmured.

She smiled at him as she slid it down her legs and flung it to the floor. Then she threw her leg over him and sat up astride his thighs. The landscape of muscles across his abdomen contracted as he sat up, his arms coming up to encircle her.

Now that she’d finally given herself permission to enjoy him, she meant to do it thoroughly, running her hands over his shoulders and down to his biceps.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” she whispered.

He reached up to cradle her face in his palms, nudging her chin until she was looking into his shadowed eyes. “So are you.”

His fingers slid back into her hair, fisting and bringing her face to his. He kissed her, slow and thorough, and so long, until she was twisting in his arms, desperate to get closer to him, to feel his bare skin on hers. She scooted forward, until her breasts were pressed to his chest, reveling in the friction against her hard, aching nipples. She could feel his cock pressing right against her sex. Will groaned, bringing one arm down to band around her hips and haul her closer still.

Her hips seemed to lift on their own, undulating against him, and he groaned again, his own hips lifting under her. She gasped as a shaft of pleasure jolted through her body. He was taking her apart so easily and he was still half dressed.

She pushed back just enough to get her hands between him, going to work on his belt buckle, then on the zipper of his pants. Will leaned his weight back on one hand, watching her work.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

She kept her eyes on his face as she slid her hand down inside the fly of his pants, her palm sliding down his rigid shaft in his boxer briefs. His lips were parted, glistening and damp from her kisses, and his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones. She curled her fingers around him and squeezed. His brows furrowed and his mouth fell open as he gasped. “Mira …”

Every time he said her name in that pleasure-strangled groan, her nipples tightened.

“Lie back,” she said, releasing him and pushing gently on his shoulders. He obeyed and she went to work tugging his pants down his hips, but he reached out to grab her wrist.

“Wait.”

She brushed a hand across bulge of his cock about to spring free. “Really? Wait?”

He offered her a pained smile and ran his hand up her arm to her shoulder. “Just a second.”

Releasing her, he fished his wallet out of his back pocket and retrieved a condom.

Her stomach clenched pleasantly with nerves and anticipation. This was really happening. Now that they were finally here, she was desperate for it, desperate to feel that hardness sliding into her, to know at last what he felt like.

“Such a Boy Scout,” she murmured.

“You should always be prepared.”

She scooted back off his legs. “Just put it on.”

He moved with an athlete’s enviable efficiency, kicking off his shoes, then his trousers and boxer briefs. When his cock finally sprang free, she had to bite back a noise. She’d imagined it—she could finally admit to herself that she’d imagined it quite a bit—but the reality was infinitely better. The sight of him wrapping a hand around it while he rolled the condom on was going to be playing on repeat in her imagination for quite some time. Every moment of this night would be impressed on her memories for the rest of her life.

When he was ready, she started to lie back, but he stopped her, pulling her back up and urging her onto his lap again.

“No, like this. You’re in control of this. Anything you want.”

She looked down at him, naked and finally hers, and felt momentarily overwhelmed. “I want you to kiss me again,” she whispered.

He reared up, catching her face in his hands again and kissing her, long and deep. She lost her head when he kissed her, so overwhelmed by the taste and sensation of him that she didn’t have room for anything else. All she could think of was getting more of him. Her hand slid down the ridges of his abdomen until she found his cock, wrapping around him to nudge him into place, and he groaned into her mouth. Slowly, she slid down over him. He broke away from her mouth on a gasp.

“God. Oh, god. Mira.”

He was so hard, and so big. Her body stretched around him with a toe-curling perfection, sending shivers of sensation up her spine. Her fingers curled into his hard shoulders as she slowly pushed herself farther down on him.

Suddenly his hands grasped her hips and he thrust up once, seating himself fully inside her and forcing a gasp out of her.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” she sighed, leaning forward until her forehead was pressed against his. “Oh, yes.” She felt utterly filled, surrounded, and consumed by him. Good. It was so good. For a moment, they both held still, breathing hard.

“Whatever you want, Mira,” he whispered, brushing an open-mouthed kiss across her lips. “However you want it.”

He pulsed inside her and she groaned, grinding herself against him.

“God, yes,” he muttered. He braced his arm across the back of her hips, helping her rock against him. Her head fell forward onto his shoulder, her aching nipples brushing against his chest with every thrust. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, reveling in the feel of his hard body pushing against hers. Her hand came up to fist in the back of his hair as the pressure began deep in her core. So close, but not quite.

“I need you to touch me,” she murmured into his shoulder.

He lay back on the bed and gripped her thighs, helping her move against him. She gasped as he picked up the pace. He was so strong, his abdominal muscles clenching and hips pistoning up with every thrust.

“More,” she moaned.

He lifted a hand to her breast, squeezing, then rolling her nipple between his fingers. So good, but still not exactly where she needed him. She took his hand and slid it down her body. From there, his fingers unerringly found the right spot. Pleasure rippled out, intensifying with every second.

“Oh … Will.” His name came out in a gasp.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

She just whimpered in reply, too overwhelmed by the sensation to speak. Then it burst upon her like glass shattering all around her, a cascade of glittering sensation, rippling down over her. Her hands gripped his biceps as she rode it out, as the pleasure flooded out through her limbs.

As it ebbed away, she lifted her head to smile down at him. He raised a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. The look on his face, the tenderness in his eyes, sent floods of a different kind of feeling through her. Her heart ached, so full of emotion, she couldn’t speak.

She leaned down to kiss him, feeling him still rock hard inside of her. “I want to make you feel good now,” she whispered against his mouth.

“You’ve already made me feel so good, Mira.”

She flexed her hips and he groaned. “Better, then.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he sighed. Then he wrapped his arm around her back and levered his body up, neatly flipping her onto her back. The pressure of his body, of feeling pinned to the bed by him, was perfection. She ran her hands up his arms, the ridges of muscles flexing as he held himself over her, then gripped his shoulders. His body felt impossibly hard and strong.

When he finally moved his hips, she moaned. “Yes,” she whispered. “Just like this.”

He was beautiful like this, so desperate and undone as he chased down pleasure. She wanted to press it all into her consciousness so she couldn’t lose it. The gold light on his skin, the sheen of his sweaty forehead, the dark knit of his eyebrows, the bunch and release of his muscles as he thrust into her. He squeezed his eyes shut and bared his teeth, a flash of white in the dim light. Then he went rigid and he stilled, a groan ripping out of his chest, ragged and uninhibited. Every muscle in his body locked tight as he rode it out, and finally he gasped in release.

Collapsing down on her, he buried his face in her hair. His hand came up to her face, cradling her cheek as he rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he moaned in approval.

“Please tell me you’re not going to kick me out and make me go back to my room,” he muttered into the pillow beside her head. Her body jostled deliciously against his as she laughed. She couldn’t get enough of him. As spent as she felt, she wanted to do it all over again.

“I’m not going to kick you out.” She drew a hand down his neck and across his shoulders, and pulled him in close. “I want you to stay,” she said, this time quieter. She wanted him like this for as long as she could have him, however long that might be.

He lifted his head enough to look at her. “I want to stay.” He leaned in and kissed her, gently and slow.

“Give me ten minutes,” he said when he pulled back. “And we can do that again. If you want to.”

She tightened her arms around him. “Oh, yes, I definitely want to.”