Page 201 of Surfer's Paradise

His body was burning.

She was so soft. So warm. Every time he pressed into her, her hips met his like it was instinct, like she’d always been meant to take him this way.

Her mouth parted, lips trembling. “Isaac…”

That voice. That broken little sound.

He gritted his teeth and rocked into her again—slow and deep—dragging a moan from her throat that nearly undid him.

“Look at me,” he rasped, cupping the back of her neck, pulling her eyes to his. “Don’t look away.”

She blinked up at him, wide-eyed, dazed with pleasure, her nails dragging faint lines down his arms.

“You feel that?” he said, thrusting again, harder this time.

She whimpered, nodding.

“That’s me,” he breathed, his lips brushing hers. “That’s how much I want you.”

His pace deepened, steady and consuming, each thrust drawing them closer, their bodies locking tighter. The headboard tapped the wall in rhythm, the air heavy with the scent of skin, of sweat, of heat.

“You’ve been driving me insane for years,” he whispered into her mouth. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her legs tightened around his waist, holding him in place. She arched, gasping as he filled her again.

He caught her jaw, kissed her hard—open-mouthed, rough, full of hunger. And then he slowed, dragging his hips back, letting the tension build. Watching her fall apart.

“Tell me this doesn’t mean something to you,” he said, barely more than a whisper.

She didn’t answer—she didn’t need to.

Her body was already telling him everything.

And Isaac wasn’t stopping until he gave her all of it.

She was unraveling beneath him, panting and clinging, her words dissolving into gasps—but he could feel it, the shift. The way her body molded tighter, the way her walls clenched around him like she didn’t want to let go.

Isaac kissed her hard, then eased back, dragging his lips over her cheek, her jaw, her throat, as he slowed his thrusts and pressed his palm flat against the small of her back.

“C’mere,” he rasped.

She blinked up at him, dazed, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

He rolled them—slow, careful—until she was on top of him, straddling his hips, her thighs trembling as she settled down on him again.

The sight of her above him—bare, flushed, hair wild and sticking to her temples—nearly stole the air from his lungs.

“Ride me, baby,” he said, his voice low, coaxing. “Take what you want.”

Her hands landed on his chest, tentative at first, then surer, more needy as she began to move. Slow circles at first. Rocking. Grinding. Isaac gritted his teeth, letting her pace wreck him.

“Look at you,” he breathed, one hand sliding up her thigh, her waist, to cup her breast. “You’re so damn beautiful, Rosie.”

She whimpered, riding harder now, bracing herself against his chest, her eyes locked to his—glassy, desperate.

“I’ve wanted this…” she whispered.

He reached up, thumb stroking over her lips. “Say it.”

---