Page 58 of One Billion Reasons

Lane

I wake with a blanket of man draped over me. Miles’s heavy arm is over my stomach, and his chest is a warm wall against my back. Crisp hairs and hard muscle and smooth skin. Gosh, his heat feels delicious. I want to wriggle back and burrow into him.

He shifts, and his hard length presses against my lower back. Oh, god. Something tugs low in my stomach. I squeeze my eyes shut. He was only wearing briefs when he went to bed. Navy blue and thin. His strong legs and his ridiculously muscled chest were on display. And now, there’s nothing but scraps of fabric between us.

His heavy breaths puff out against my head. He’s asleep, and I need him to stay that way, so I can enjoy the delicious way his body curls around mine. Maybe if I don’t move, he’ll stay asleep. His palm flattens over my stomach, but his breathing doesn’t change. Or maybe, if I’m very lucky, he’ll have a wet dream and I’ll be the recipient of all that morning frustration. Heat pools low at the thought, and then he rocks his hips just a fraction against me, and I’m lost. The massage was bad, when it was just his hands, but this? This is torment. Desire makes my head swim and my blood thick.

His palm creeps up. His fingers brush the underside of my breast. A soft gasp falls from my throat, and I can’t help the way I arch against him. My butt makes contact with his erection, and even that fleeting contact has me shuddering. More. I need more.

His breathing changes. Is he awake? His fingers creep higher, higher. Oh, please. He pinches my nipple between his fingers, and I release a hissed, “Yes.” And then his mouth is on my throat and his hand is teasing my breast and he’s pulling me back against him, rough and wanting.

“Fuck, Laney. I need you.” His breaths are harsh against my neck.

“Miles. Please.”

“Don’t beg me, baby,” he murmurs. “I hate it when you beg. Fuck, you’re so hot and I know I should resist, but—” He grinds his cock against me and makes a low rumbling noise in his chest.

“Give in.” I arch against him, and his mouth comes back to my throat, sucking hard enough to bruise. His long fingers roll one nipple and then pinch the other.

He breathes a soft curse and trails his hand over my stomach. “If I do this—” He slips his hand under the waistband of my shorts. “What will I find? No underwear?” He bites gently at my neck, and heady sensation streaks through me. “Bad girl, Laney.” His finger slips easily between my legs, and I buck against him. He bands his other arm around my stomach until I’m caged in.

A low sound of approval comes from his throat. “You’re so wet. As wet as you were yesterday on the massage table. Do you know that I went back to the locker room and jerked off in the shower? Like a damn teenager. You make me crazy.” He huffs against my neck, hot and needy. “I need to see all of you.”

He pulls me on top of him in one swift motion, until I’m straddling his hips, my hands on his hard sides, his thick cock pressing between my legs. He draws light circles over my clit, and a breathy little moan looses from my lips. He watches me through heavy lids as he teases me, like an arrogant god taking his pleasure slowly. My breaths come short, and the whole time, that slow pulling and tugging builds in my gut. “You look so good like this. Take off your shirt for me,” he urges. I pull off the tiny tank, and his eyes go molten.

“More,” I gasp. His fingers are teasing me, so close to what I want, but never quite getting me there.

Frustration makes my hips punch forward, and the contact with his cock sends lightning streaking through me. I do it again. A surprised unf tears from his throat. Again. I rock over him, right where it feels best. His harsh exhale is loud in the silent room.

“Fuck, Laney. That feels good.” His body jerks under me, and triumph lights me up. Triumph and the need to keep going. His hands come to my hips and his head falls back. “I wanted to tease you but, oh, god—” He groans the last word as I rock over him.

“We should take off our clothes, but—” Pleasure is heating me up from my core, through my belly, and I can’t think.

“Keep going,” he says through clenched teeth.

My breaths sound like sobs now. “I need you—”

“Keep fucking going.”

I rock over him, hitting my clit exactly the way I need. Oh, yes. From here, I can watch every pained expression cross his face, the way his muscles stand out starkly as his body clenches. Even his throat is tense.

“Like that, Lane. You feel so good. The heat of you. The way your body fills my hands. I’ll never get enough. Oh, fuck—” He groans. His words undo me. What I remember most about the time I saw him having sex was the dirty talk. Scorching hot and honest. Like he couldn’t help himself. Like all his walls were down and his black heart was exposed for the world to see. And I want that. More. More.

I move faster, and the friction feels so delicious that I cry out. His erection is thick and perfect against me, so good, so good. I run one palm over his cock, and his eyes fly wide.

His lips are parted, and his big body is jerking under me, his abs contracting helplessly every time I press into him. “Fuck, Laney. I’m going to—”

He jerks the top of his briefs down, so the top of his cock is exposed and then he’s coming, spurting onto his stomach as his body jackknifes off the bed. That’s so hot. The sight of him triggers something low and deep inside me. And then my core throbs and my body pulses and lighting streaks through my veins. I sob out his name and I’m coming. I keep my eyes open so I can watch him, as he’s shocked and delighted, and maybe a little bit embarrassed, as he comes down. I shake and shudder over him until I’m limp.

I slide bonelessly off of him onto the bed, and he covers his eyes with his arm.

“What the hell was that?” he murmurs, and I laugh. “What did you do to me?”

“I know.” Our breaths fill the space. I feel like I’m floating.

“Room service?” Miles finally asks when we’ve caught our breath.

“Hell, yes.”

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