Page 22 of The Man I Love

“Oh God!” she called out, moving her body in sync with his hand.

She was the most responsive woman he had ever met, and he wanted nothing more than to please her. Easing his fingers away, he stood at the side of the desk and pulled her toward the edge. Her eyes were hooded, her cheeks flushed, and her lips pink and halfway parted when she looked up at him. Hot waves of longing rushed through his body and he fell to his knees onthe floor. He positioned himself between her legs, then flicked out his tongue to taste her. She was honey. Warm, sweet, and delicious.

“Tristan please,” she begged.

He added his fingers to his torment, plunging them deep inside and causing her head to lull. He went deeper still, his fingers pushing and pulling until she melted on the desk. “Oh God,” she called out.

He covered her heat with his mouth, tasting the intoxicating mixture of sweet and salty that he couldn’t get enough of.

Her fingers threaded in his hair, as she guided him to the exact right spot to find her release. All of a sudden, her body began to pulse around his fingers, and he knew she’d started to come. She called out his name and collapsed on the desk, then wave after wave took her.

On shaking legs, he stood from the floor a moment later, and she sat up, eagerly helping him out of his clothes. Yanking his polo from his pants, she pulled it over his head. Her fingers were trembling as she unfastened his pants, then shoved them to the floor. When he was stripped bare, she pulled him up onto the desk and he made love to her again, braced himself above her on his elbows. Her pale blonde hair was splayed out on the dark mahogany desk, moving up and down with each of his strokes. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life, Samantha,” he whispered.

She rocked her hips forward, taking him deeper, and held onto his shoulders. She was slippery, and hot, and tight all around him and he couldn't hold back any longer. Soon he found his own release, pouring his seed into her belly. Shehugged him to her chest, kissing his forehead, his cheek, and his lips.

He lay there for a full minute, his head nestled the crook of her neck as he took a deep breath. Her arms ran up and down his back in slow, deliberate movements, until he felt moisture hit hischeek. He pushed up on his forearms, finding her lashes wet and clumped together with tears.

“What’s the matter?” he asked softly, wiping the wetness away with his thumb. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No—I just—” she stammered. “It was so—I was so?—”

He pressed a finger against her lips “Shhh. You don’t need to explain it.” He already knew what she was feeling––the connection between them was something he’d never experienced before. It was raw and emotional, and it triggered a protective instinct in him that made him want to cry. What would happen to him if he ever lost her? How would he even survive?

He stood a moment later, picked her up off the desk, and carried her in his arms toward the sofa on the other side of the office. He laid her down upon it, following her with his whole body until they were side by side.

Looking into her eyes he pushed a lock of stray hair behind her ears as a surge of emotion gathered in his throat making his voice deeper. “So,” he whispered, “how was your day?”

She bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile, but was failing miserably. “It started out pretty boring,” she began, reaching up a finger to trail along his jaw. “But by the end, it got pretty interesting.”

He tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t quite manage it. “Oh? How interesting?” he asked with one brow raised.

“On a scale of one to ten?” she asked.

“Sure.” He grinned.

“An eight.”

He pushed himself up on his elbow. “An eight?”

She nodded while holding back a giggle.

He was already lowering himself on top of her, wedging one leg between her knees as he growled into her neck. “Well, I guess I’ll have to try again,” he whispered.

Her breath became heavy, and her giggles ceased. “Darn,” she said, tilting her head to the side to give him better access.

He made love to her all over again—kissing every inch of her body fromhead to toe. All the urgency of a moment ago was gone, replaced by a raw, unmistakable longing so intense that it scared him a little. It was a desire to connect. Beyond words. Beyond bodies. It was a connection of their souls, and most definitely a nine-point-five. At the very least.

9

CHAPTER NINE

December

Eight Months Earlier

Los Angeles

The aromaof freshly brewed coffee filled Tristan’s nose as he walked into the kitchen the next morning. Samantha was already standing near the counter, making breakfast and swaying her hips to the sound of “Dancing Queen” playing softly on the radio. He paused at the sight of her. She had put on one of his old threadbare T-shirts, and her short blond hair fell unruly onto her neck. Some of its bits sticking out from the top like sun-bleached wheat contained by a pink scrunchy.

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