Page 530 of The Winslow Brothers

All that thankfully flies out of my head when he starts to move, in and out of me with his elbows on the bed at the sides of my head.

The feel of his thighs on mine is one I’m not likely to forget anytime soon. It might be a weird thing to focus on, but aside from the actual penetration, there’s nothing to me that feels more intimate.

Remy moves his thumbs over my face, then tilting my chin up gently to gain my attention. He makes short work of locking his gaze with my own, and I take even less time to get lost in it.

Vivid, swirling blue, his eyes are the kind that tell stories of their own. Of pain and loss and triumph and joy. Their beauty isn’t just surface-level—they’re vibrantly multidimensional.

He groans richly, his head falling forward to meet our foreheads as his pace slows and deepens.

My throat dries out and my back arches and my eyes fall closed without my permission. I don’t…I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like this. The need, the build, the perfect, exquisitely torturous pace.

Being connected with Remington Winslow is an experience like no other.

Being reconnected with him over half my life later is an experience beyond description.

“Rem,” I whisper, knowing with intense clarity that I’m oh so close to losing myself over the edge. “Remy,” I repeat, forming the only word I can.

He nods against my forehead, putting his lips to mine to whisper back, “Me too.”

His tongue flicks out to lick across mine, and the taste of tequila on him is markedly better than the stuff that comes straight from the bottle. I moan, and even though I didn’t think it was possible, Remy’s stroke deepens—intensifies.

It’s all I can do to exist now, the more basic functions of my throat and eyes and the speed of my thumping heart giving themselves completely over to the moment.

I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t had sex in so long or if the sex is just that powerful, but the clench of my orgasm is so strong, I swear on all that’s holy I pass out for the briefest of moments.

I, Maria Baros, temporarily left my body and watched over it from above while it absorbed the most pleasure it has ever experienced in this lifetime.

Remy’s groan moments later is an indication that he’s finished the race as well, but I’m ashamed to admit, I don’t have the mental capacity to bear witness to nearly enough detail. I can’t tell you the position of his face or the shift in his eyes or even the parting of his lips. All I can tell you is that I want nothing more than to do it again.

Over and over and over again, if I’m honest.

But I’m merely a passenger on the journey of tonight, and my body’s reached the point of exhaustion. I can’t move or breathe or chat.

All I can do is fall asleep, the feel of Remy still inside me and his weight atop me only the faintest of details. Exhaustion trumps embarrassment; bone-weary trumps boning.

Tomorrow, though, after I’ve slept, I have the distinct feeling I’ll feel differently. Very,verydifferently.

Remy

At first, I don’t know what wakes me up, but when I look at the clock on the nightstand, I realize it’s nearing three in the morning.

But then, I knowexactlywhy I’m awake. Maria’s naked body is stretched over mine, her eyes lax with sleep, and my cock, well, it feels like he’s harder than he’s ever been.

It’s only been a few hours since I was inside her, since I felt the way she pulsed around me as she gave in to her pleasure, saw the look in her eyes when she came.

But fuck, I feel insane with the need to do it again.

Her hips shift in a way that makes her bare pussy press against my thigh, and it does nothing for my current state of arousal.

I know I shouldn’t wake her up. I know I should let her sleep.

But what I know and what I need are apparently two different things.

“Maria,” I whisper toward her and reach out to brush her hair out of her face.

She stirs a little, and I lean down to press my lips to hers. Gentle at first, I coax her mouth with soft, brushing kisses at the corners. But I’m more than thrilled when her eyes flutter and her lips start to move with mine.

I should probably feel like an asshole, I know, but I can’t find it in me to care about anything else but being with her again.

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