Page 61 of Surfer's Paradise

And it was wrecking him.

“Fucking hell, Rosie,” he groaned, dragging a hand up her spine, feeling the warmth of her, the heat pooling at the nape of her neck.

She circled her hips, slow and teasing, making him hiss between his teeth.

“You feel…” she trailed off, voice wrecked, eyes dark and heavy with something new.

Isaac swallowed, his throat tight, muscles trembling with restraint.

“Yeah?” he rasped, voice like gravel, rough with need. “What do I feel like?”

Her lashes fluttered.

She bit her lip, hard.

His cock twitched inside her.

She gasped, rolling her hips again, harder, chasing something she clearly hadn’t felt before.

Isaac saw it, fucking felt it, the way she was unraveling on top of him.

His hands slid up, gripping her waist, thumbs tracing the curve of her ribs.

Her shirt was in the way.

His lips parted, desperate to see, desperate to touch.

And fuck it—he wasn’t a saint.

With a rough tug, he grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head, tossing it somewhere he didn’t care about.

Rosie gasped, body flushing under his gaze, her arms twitching like she wanted to cover herself.

He didn’t let her.

“Don’t,” he muttered, dragging his hands up the softness of her stomach, cupping her breasts, thumbing over the peaks.

She arched into him, moaning, her thighs squeezing tight against his hips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, lifting himself up just enough to drag his mouth over the curve of her breast, sucking, biting, teasing.

She shuddered, trembling against him, her fingers gripping his hair, hips rolling faster, rougher, chasing the friction.

His control snapped.

“That’s it,” he gritted out, his grip tightening, guiding her, making her take him deeper, harder, pushing her closer.

She was gasping now, breath hitching, hands bracing on his shoulders.

“You like this?” he muttered, dragging his lips up her throat, biting, soothing with his tongue.

She nodded frantically, unable to speak.

“Yeah, you do,” he growled, gripping her hips, driving up into her, meeting her pace.

She cried out, wrecked, desperate, wild.

And fucking hell, she was stunning like this.

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