22. Wren

Tom cuffed my neck, locking my lips against his. Loving the way he felt pressed against me again, I sank into the kiss.

God, I’d missed this. The feel of his hands running down my sides had my heart taking off. It had only been a week, but it had felt like a lifetime since his rough palms had scraped over my body. The physical connection between us was like nothing I’d experienced. It was impossible to resist now that I’d gotten a taste of it.

He slipped his tongue between my lips, claiming my mouth, and as I shifted my legs apart, my skirt skated up my hips. With a trembling hand, I squeezed his length between us.

Groaning, he pulled my hand up and yanked my body closer. And as he cupped my ass, holding me tight against his cock, goose bumps erupted along my bare skin. I rocked once and then again.

“Damn, you’re wet already,” he muttered against my lips.

Arching, I rubbed my pussy against him, but with so many layers between us, it wasn’t enough.

“Fuck, baby girl.” With urgency, he ran his lips over my jaw and down my neck.

“I’d love that. Fuck me, please,” I panted.

“Patience.” His dark voice vibrated against my collarbone. Even as he chastised me for being too eager, he brought his hand between my legs, causing my skirt to bunch higher.

I shifted, desperately wanting him to slide my panties aside and touch me.

As if he could read my mind, he did just that, gliding two fingers through my pussy. Without spearing me, without focusing on my clit, he massaged my wet heat.

My breath quickened and blood rushed in my ears. “I don’t want to be teased tonight. I just want your cock inside me. I want you to make me come.” I begged, not caring how needy I sounded.

With a chuckle, he pulled my shirt off. “Then let’s get rid of all this unnecessary fabric.”

“You have more than I do.”

He yanked his own T-shirt off in one quick movement, and then it was just bare skin. I ran my hands over his pecs, relishing the prickle of his light chest hair. He slipped my bra off, freeing my breasts, and instantly wrapped his lips around one nipple. Head dropped back, I moaned and rocked against him. But the friction of his sweats just wasn’t enough.

“Please,” I whimpered, rolling my hips and leaving a wet trail along his pants. “Get rid of them.”

Frantically he shifted, lifting me so he could push his gray sweatpants down his legs. His cock, long and desperate, sprung free, bumping against my pussy, teasing me with the tip. With a hiss, I gripped his shaft and savored the heat of him.

“I need you.” The words rocked through me as they left his lips, spurring me on.

I squeezed him harder, rubbing a thumb over his crown to collect the drop of precum there. Then I notched him at my entrance and sank onto his thick cock.

Slowly, I slid down his length, savoring the stretch. He pushed up from beneath me, filling me. For a moment, I paused, pressing my forehead to his, basking in the pleasure of being connected so fully to this man.

“Use me, baby girl. Use my cock to take away that ache deep inside you. Make yourself feel good. I need to see you come.” His words brushed across my lips, burning through my system.

I lifted up slowly and sank down again, rocking my hips against him. When I did it again, his breath hitched and his body tightened.

“Damn, you feel like heaven.” Cupping my breasts, he teased my nipples, sending ripples of pleasure through me.

Every pinch of my nipples, every stroke of his cock, sent me spiraling higher and made the ache stronger. Until it was beating through my system, demanding more. I moved faster, lifting and dropping harder. My breath came faster. My stomach tightened and my legs shook. More, I wanted more.

“I need?—”

Before I could finish the thought, he circled my clit, sending me over the edge. All the while, he bucked up into me, working me through my orgasm until finally I collapsed on top of him. Hands cupping my ass, he stood, his cock still buried deep inside me, and lowered me to the ground.

“I need more room.” Pinning my hands over my head, he thrust hard.

With my legs draped around his hips, he hit that perfect place deep inside me.

I moaned. “Yes.”

“You will come again, baby girl,” he commanded without slowing. He was almost frantic now as he thrust, his arms tightening on my wrists, holding them in place.

Over and over, he pistoned his hips, sending me soaring. My ears rang and my body racked as pleasure rolled through me.

He groaned. “The way your pussy grips me when you come is so fucking hot. I never want it to stop. I can’t…” His words trailed off as he sped up, desperately rocking into me, chasing his own release. “Wren.” Moaning, he sank deep one more time and stayed there, his cock fully seated inside me, pulsing over and over.

Finally he collapsed on top of me, pressing me into the plush carpet. I never wanted him to move. If only we could stay like this, in this moment. Forever. On my back on the floor, I surveyed the room, cataloging the pieces of art. My heart warmed at the memory of his face as I first took in each painting. Like he understood how each painting affected me. I’d never felt this type of connection with another person. And for me, it was so much more than just physical.

He shifted his weight and settled so his body rested alongside mine, and with a hand caressing my arm, he studied me, wearing an intense emotion. One I was feeling too.

“This is good, right?” I asked, suddenly needing reassurance that we were in the same headspace.

He blinked, his forehead creasing. “Fuck. If you have to ask that question, then maybe we need to start over.”

A giggle slipped from between my lips. “The sex is better than good,” I assured him.

“Damn right,” he growled.

I patted his cheek, loving the sensation of the scruff of his jaw on my palm as he leaned into my hand.

“What were you asking, then?” He pressed his lips to the center of my palm, and warmth rushed through me.

This moment was perfect. I was afraid if I spoke, I’d mess it up. The nerves almost silenced me, but if we were going to make a go of things, I had to get comfortable with being open with him. “I meant you and me outside the bedroom. When we’re not having sex. We’re good, right?”

“Baby girl, I love nothing more than spending time with you.” He lifted to his knees and held a hand out. “Let’s go up and shower, and then we can watch some more Neil Caffrey.”

“You remember his name?” The idea that he cared about my stupid show made my heart skip.

He rolled his eyes. “I might have watched a few episodes of White Collar this week.”

“See?” I let him pull me to my feet. “I knew you’d love him.”

He shook his head but leaned in again to kiss me with the hint of a smile on his face.

After a shower and two episodes, I was curled up in Tom’s arms. As boneless as I should feel after our evening together, though, I couldn’t banish the guilt that swirled in my stomach .

It shouldn’t matter what other people thought of us if I was happy, but life wasn’t that simple.

“What’s the matter?” His deep voice startled me. “I can hear the wheels in your brain turning, baby girl.”

His warm palm ran up and down my back, soothing me.

“I just don’t want anything to mess this up.”

He tensed under me. “I don’t either.”

Last week I had been convinced we couldn’t keep this between us. But right now, our connection felt new and scary. Like even the smallest bump could throw us off course.

“Would you be okay if we didn’t tell people about us yet?”

“I’ll wait as long as you want.” He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “All that matters is having you here with me.”

Wrapped in his arms like this, it was easy to believe him.