Page 110 of Kiss Me Tonight

And it feels so incredibly right when I grip the mattress that has no sheets because he bought it for me—for us—and my hand skids when my palm turns sweaty.

Dominic loops his other arm under my head, providing a literal man-made pillow.

“So good, baby,” he groans in my ear, sliding in and out of me on a sensual, toe-curling glide, “every time I touch you, you feel so good.”

He can win this round.

I can’t find any words. They’ve vacated my brain, even if they haven’t left my heart, and I’m nothing but a string of moans and sighs, each one pitched a little higher than the last.

“Come all over me,” Dominic grunts by my ear, his finger rubbing my clit faster, the plunge of his hips driving ever deeper inside me. “Let yourself go, baby. I know you want to give in.”

He pulls out, so much so that the tip of his cock nearly leaves me, and then thrusts in so hard, so swiftly, that I see stars.

Literal stars.

Or maybe not so literal, but it doesn’t matter because the orgasm is sweeping over me, and I grab at Dominic’s wrist to still those sensual circles because everything is so hypersensitive that I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin.

Devilish.

That’s how Dominic’s chuckle sounds as he firmly grips my hips, rolls me over onto my stomach, and enters me on a single thrust. The bedroom is empty, save for the bed, and one very well-positioned mirror that catches our reflection.

My hair is a mess and my cheeks are red and my lips are parted, but it’s Dominic who steals the show. His arms are tight ropes of muscle, his torso nothing but solid planes of rock-hard strength. With broad hands, he holds my hips as he pumps into me, never relinquishing the rhythm that catches my breath even now, when I’m already satiated and simply enjoying the ride.

Breathtakingly handsome.

He bites down on his bottom lip, his hips plunging forward. Once, twice, and then I feel each imprint of his fingers on my flesh as he drops his head forward, his gaze locked on the place where he’s entering me again and again.

“You ruin me,” he groans on a short breath, and whatever he might have said next is lost to his orgasm. He comes with his head thrown back, the veins in his neck tensely visible. Devastating. That’s how this moment feels, like we’re cracking down our last barriers and accepting whatever comes next.

Briefly, he turns me onto my back before collapsing down on top of me, his arms engulfing either side of my shoulders. “I’m fucked in the head,” he rumbles, his cheek against my own, like he’s trying to force me to see therealhim, the one that will send me scurrying far, far away. “I sleep on the couch and I bought this bed because I wanted to have sex with you in it.”

I tiptoe my fingers up his spine. “And the mirror?”

“I found it at one of those consignment shops down on Main Street yesterday.” A small pause. “I wanted to take you from behind and still see your face.”

A giggle warms my chest. “You’re a gentleman through and through.”

“I bought sheets, too. I planned to put them on the bed before I had you over.”

Is it too cheesy to hug him? It doesn’t matter. I flatten my palms on his back and squeeze him tight. “Are you trying to romance me, Coach DaSilva?”

His chuckle is low and sexy, the kind of laughter I want to hear every morning when I wake up. “Honestly,” he says, brushing my hair back from my face, “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. But I’m hoping if I throw a shit ton of darts, one of them will hit bull’s-eye.”

“Dominic?”

“Yeah?”

I think back to what I overheard him say to Harry, about not regretting the path his life has taken because it’s led him here to London. It led him here tome. “I’m glad Savannah Rose didn’t get to keep you.” Swallowing past the vulnerable knot of fear, I add quietly, “And selfish as it is, I’m happy your job fired you.”

“It’s not selfish.”

“It is.”

“It’s not.” His hand sweeps possessively down my side. “Because only one of us gets to be selfish, and I’ve already taken the position.” His fingers turn evil, tickling me. “Face it, Asp, you can’t have everything.” He pulls me underneath him, so he’s straddling my waist but keeping his weight from being too much. “Head coach,” he teases, his fingers merciless in their quest, “badass mom who rescues kids who need saving. Let the little people around here have the chance to make a name for themselves, would you?”

Laughter gurgles up within me. I twist, trying to get away from those tickling fingers, but I can’t squirm quite far enough. “Fine! Fine, I’ll give something up. Name your price!”

The tickling ceases, and when I meet his searing gaze, I already know what he’s going to ask for: “You, me, and this bed for one more round. And then I’ll send you home. Tomorrow we’ll go back to real life and talk about Harry and the calendar, and the fact that you don’t see why we need to have the kids running miles with me every morning to build up their endurance . . . but for right now, you’re mine. Deal?”

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