Page 105 of The Last Close Call

She glanced back at the rumpled bed and kneeled on it as he dropped a condom onto the nightstand. Nerves fluttered inside her, and she looked up at him, trying to read his expression. It was too dark, but she could feel the intensity emanating from him as he stepped over to her.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and traced her fingertips over his chest and his arms, pausing as she reached the white bandage on his forearm. He eased her back and rested his palm behind her, making the mattress squeak as he shifted his weight to his knee and leaned over her.

She touched his bandage lightly. “Are you ever going to tell me about this?”

“No.”

He kissed her, settling his weight beside her as he slid her panties off with one smooth motion—a distraction that definitely worked. Then he flattened his hand on her stomach.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered, kissing her neck.

“I’m cold.”

That was a lie, and he knew it, but she didn’t want to talk about the nerves that had invaded her body like aliens for some reason. She’d thought about this for weeks, daydreamed about it, fantasized. But the reality was much more intense than she’d ever imagined, and she knew she was in over her head here. To him, this was a break from his work, a distraction from the tedium. To her, this was... something else. Everything was happening too fast to figure it out.

He leaned closer and kissed her as his palm glided, feather-soft, over her skin. Every place he touched tingled, and he stroked his hand lower, grazing her pelvis on the way to her thighs, then her knees, then back up again. It was tickling and arousing and maddening all at once. She arched against him, telling him what she wanted, and then his fingers slid between her legs and the whole world became a bright blur of pleasure.

“You feel good,” he said against her temple, and she would have responded, but her ability to form words was gone. There was nothing except his hands and his mouth and the hot, perfect fire he was stoking inside her. She couldn’t form a thought about anything besides him, and she gripped his arm, torn between wanting to lose herself and wanting to wait.

“Jack.”

“Just go with it.”

How did he read her mind like that?

His breath tickled her ear. “It’s okay.”

“Not yet.”

She reached for his jeans and fumbled with the snap and the zipper. He pulled away, laughing quietly as he got up and made quick work of the rest of his clothes.

He planted his knee on the bed and eased her back, hovering over her as he tore open the condom and got it on. He slid her legs apart, and she braced herself as he positioned himself and entered her with a sharp push that made her gasp.

He started to pull back, but she gripped his hips, keeping him anchored.

“No, it’s good,” she said.

She wrapped her legs around him, and he surged into her, deeper this time, and then she leaned her head back, letting him set the rhythm between them as sensations washed over her. She slid her hands down his back, his hips, pulling him closer as the tension built. His skin was slick and hot, and she ran her nails down his back as she tried to hold on and control it. And then it was too strong, too fast, too much. She broke apart, holding on to him as she gasped his name. He kept going, driving into her, and then he climaxed hard, pinning her with his weight.

She stayed wrapped around him, trying to lock the feeling in place for as long as she could. And then she let her arms and her body go lax. She kept her eyes closed as he pushed himself up on his hands. A moment later he rolled onto his back and groaned.

Rowan sighed blissfully. The bed creaked, and a few seconds later, she heard water running. A moment passed and then he was shuffling with something on the dresser. God, was he checking his phone? A little dart landed in her chest, and she kept her eyes clamped shut because she didn’t want to know.

A second later the mattress creaked again as he slid into bed.

“Hey.”

She opened her eyes as he leaned over her, propping his weight on his elbow.

“Are you asleep already?”

“Asleep? No.” She smiled up at him. “Just momentarily paralyzed.”

His eyebrows arched.

She turned into him, nuzzling her head against his chest. She loved the way he smelled, and his skin was damp from exertion.

Quiet settled over them. No more talk. There was just the din of someone’s television through the thin wall and the faint sound of trucks on the interstate.

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