Page 88 of Close Pursuit

If she was supposed to fight him, she refused. If she was supposed to be angry at him for plundering her like this, she embraced it, instead.

He needed this, and she willingly gave it to him. In fact, she pulled his hips closer with her legs, pulled his head down to her neck, offering herself freely to him.

He increased the force and intensity of the sex, and she urged him on, opening herself fully to him physically and emotionally.

“More, Alex,” she panted. “Give me all of you. Take all of me.”

He growled as if frustrated by her reaction. He spun, carrying her still impaled on him to the table. With a sweep of his left arm he sent the plates and glasses flying, laid her down on the edge of the table and drove into her. The hard surface at her back forced her to absorb the full ferocity of his sex and he slammed all the way to her core.

“Yes, that’s it,” she groaned. “More. I want it all.”

“You make me crazy,” he ground out from behind clenched teeth.

“I want crazier,” she panted back.

He grabbed her knees and shoved them wide. She helped by grabbing them and holding them apart. His eyes closed as he lost himself in her body, thrusting mindlessly, over and over.

She wondered if he realized he was slowing his angry thrusts. That they were becoming more strokes than attacks, long and slow and deep. Over and over and over.

His hands came down on either side of her head as he braced himself, eyes still closed, making love to her. She let go of her knees. Gradually let her legs wrap around his waist.

She found his rhythm with her own body, rising up to meet him as their bodies joined, stroking each other to a building climax. The now familiar tingling started at her extremities, racing from her fingers and toes toward her core, growing and growing, clawing at her core until she cried out with the power of it.

Alex’s body tightened against hers. Took on a terrible urgency. She opened her eyes and stared up at him. His face was angelic, his eyes demonic, as he stared down at her, furious and desperate and lost.

Her internal muscles clutched him tightly. She surged up against him one last time, and he detonated inside her. Pleasure ripped across his face and he shuddered hard against her, once, twice. She held him close, absorbing his release into her, opening herself to him in every possible way.

And then the storm was over. His body stilled, and he stared down at her, braced with his hands on either side of her head, his arms trembling a little.

He whispered, “What in the hell are you doing to me?”

Adding real emotion to an act he had managed to detach from his feelings in the past? Of course, she knew better than to say that aloud. He wasn’t ready to hear the truth just yet. Better that he figure it out for himself.

He stepped back from her, and she sat up on the edge of the table, a little wobbly, the remnants of her silk camisole hanging bedraggled at her sides.

“Sorry if the table was too hard,” he said dismissively.

“The table’s fine,” she said lightly. “Next time we do it on the table, though, could you flip me over the other way?”

His gaze snapped to hers, startled. “On your stomach?”

She turned and half leaned over the table, testing it with her palms. “Yes. I think I’d like that. Which would be better: for me to support myself with my hands or to lie flat?”

The expression in his eyes was floored. Was that supposed to have driven her away from him? Passionate sex? Mind-blowing pleasure? A moment of intimacy he couldn’t deny, no matter how unwilling he was to admit it had happened? She snorted at the notion.

She had his number, now. And she wasn’t going anywhere.

Across the room, his computer bag dinged. Curious, she watched as he pulled his laptop out and opened it.

“Sonofabitch,” he breathed.

“What is it?”

“A request for a video call. From my father.”

“What does he want?” she asked, curious.

“How the hell does he have my number?” Alex retorted sharply.

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