Page 52 of Dashing for Love

She breathes in, then lets out a soft whimper as she exhales. Something within me unfurls. Is this really the woman I’ve been looking for this whole time?

The thought is almost too much to bear.

That kiss. Christ, thatkiss.Unable to help myself, I reach out to trace her soft lips. Lips that yielded to me so willingly the night of the masquerade ball. She knew who I was the second she saw me. Knew it was me when I kissed her. And if I’m being honest, I knew there was something about her that I recognized. That it could possibly be her. But the thought of it truly being Goldie was almost too much. And honestly, what does a guy like me have to offer a woman like her? She’s sunshine incarnate, and I…I’m the welcome mat that everyone dutifully wipes their feet on. Not that I’m a pushover or anything. Just…I don’t think anyone has thought about me the wayDawndid.

Goldie’s eyes flutter open and meet mine, endlessly deep in the dark of the night. She doesn’t speak, and she doesn’t need to. Her eyes say everything. My fingers stay on her lips, until finally I move them, slowly, skimming down her chin and down to trace her neck, her collarbone.

I shift closer. She smells of sleep and home. Comfort. I shouldn’t want this with her, but I can’t make myself stop. I lean in, nuzzling into her hair, trailing my lips against her chin. All the while, my hand continues its own path, dipping into the neck of her shirt to feel the way her chest rises sharply at my touch.

She holds my gaze as I lower my mouth to hers, barely blinking. It’s only when they meet that she allows her eyes to shut, and it’s with a whole-body shudder.

It’s impossible to deny the groan that escapes me as our lips meet. And when she sighs in return, I lose the battle completely, pulling her to me, needing to feel every part of her. Her scent, summer and sunshine, envelops me as her nails scrape against my scalp. I shiver, and she smiles against my mouth.

“You like that?”

“I do,” I tell her honestly.

I get the feeling she’s waiting for me to say more, but I don’t know what it would be. For now, this is enough. Feeling her warm body, pliant and soft against mine, is enough.

Until she guides my hand to her hip and says, “Please.”

And then I’m ruined.

Because I can’t deny her. Won’t. I skate my hand under the fabric of her shirt, grabbing her breast through her bra and running my thumb over her nipple. She jerks at the sensation, and now it’s my turn to ask if she likes it.

“I do,” she says on an exhale. “So much.”

I do it again, taking her mouth with mine as she writhes on the bed beside me, and suddenly I need to be the one she’s writhing against. I shift us, pulling her up to straddle me and palming her hips to thrust up against her, my cock straining against my jeans. She swivels her hips slowly, and I match her speed. She should have whatever she wants. Whatever she needs.

She braces her hands on my chest, and I move my hands beneath her shirt once more, feeling her nipples harden beneath the thin fabric of her bra as I cup her breasts. She moans. “Feels so good.”

“Take what you want, Goldie,” I urge, my voice low. “Use me.”

“I want to feel you on top.”

Done. I shift us again, putting her back on the mattress and settling between her jean-clad thighs. My cock throbs at the warmth I find there. I know if I were to put my hands down her pants, I’d find her hot and wet for me. I dip my forehead onto her neck and groan, unable to keep the image at bay. My hips find their rhythm again, pulsing slowly against hers.

“Take your shirt off,” she whispers.

Reaching behind my head to yank it off, I swallow her moan as our lips meet again. I will never get enough of her lips, the tiny noises and gasps and sighs. They’re my new obsession.

Her hands skate up my back, then her nails scrape down. I hiss in pleasure, thrusting harder against her and holding.

“Do that again,” she commands, her voice thick.

I obey, murmuring into her ear, “I want you to come.” She shivers, her hands gripping my back tight. “Think you can do that?”

She hitches a breath. “Yes.”

I’m beyond desperate to take her into my mouth, but I hold off. I don’t even push my hand beneath the bra, but I can feel the way her nipple hardens under my attention. “So sensitive.” I nibble her bottom lip.

She swivels her hips again, harder, and I move to match her. “Don’t stop,” she pants. “Please. Faster.”

I would never, but especially not when she asks like that. Her chin lifts as she begins to lose herself to the rising orgasm, and I bury my mouth against her neck. She smells so good.

Our movements are faster, and my own release builds. This is heaven. I brush her hair away from her face as her nails dig into my back and latch onto my jeans. Her gaze meets mine as she gasps, “Matty,” then squeezes her eyes shut as the first wave hits her.

Watching—actually, no,hearingher come—is the best thing I’ve ever experienced. I follow quickly, my own release sharp and quick.

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