Page 29 of Covert Temptation

He forgot every reason why this was a mistake.

She was stunning.

Bare beneath him, her hair fanned across his pillow. Her sensitive lips were already kiss-swollen, her eyes dark with need.

Dipping his head, he kissed her again, slower now. His hands mapped her like he needed to memorize every inch—his palm over her breast, learning the curve and size and the way her small nipple puckered at a single strum of his fingertip.

Neck arched to expose the pulse fluttering there, she issued a shaky rasp.

He continued to explore her body, trailing his fingers down her ribs and across her hip. She bucked into every touch, restless, needy, her fingertips anchored in his spine.

The kiss turned hungrier, the caresses more filled with need.

When he slipped his fingers between her thighs, she gasped.

Soaked.

“Jesus, Kennedy…”

She opened her legs wider for him, her breath ragged now, hips moving in a slow grind against his hand. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He slid a finger into her, then two, curling just right, watching the way her mouth parted, how she reached for him like she needed to feel him everywhere. She was dripping, trembling, whispering his name between clenched teeth.

And it wasn’t enough.

He shimmied his boxer briefs off, positioning himself above her. She reached between them, wrapped her hand around him…and he nearly lost it then and there.

“Condom’s in my bag,” he grated out, cursing himself for not having them within reach.

“I’m on birth control. And I’m clean.”

Fuck.

He would only last two pumps if he slipped inside her bareback, but he heard himself respond. “I’m clean too.”

“Dante…” She rolled her hips, pressing her slick heat against the length of him. One shift and he’d be buried inside her tight walls.

“You sure?” His voice came out hoarse, as if he’d bellowed through an all-night raid.

“Stop talking and do it,” she whispered, pulling him to her.

He almost laughed at the Kennedy he knew, the one who gave him mouthiness instead of her lips to kiss.

He didn’t wait another second.

In one long, aching stroke, he slid into her, groaning against her shoulder at how tight, how perfect she felt wrapped around him. She gasped and clung to him, nails biting into his back now, legs locking around his hips.

He moved slowly at first, savoring every inch. Every soft cry she gave. But soon, the rhythm built between them, faster, harder. Their bodies tangled. Her breath in his ear and his name on her lips spurring him on until all he could think wasmore.

She matched him for every thrust, every grind, meeting him with heat and fire and need. The sound of their bodies moving, the soft creak of the bed, the wet, slick heat between them—it drove him wild.

Her climax hit fast and hard, pulling a moan from her throat as she arched beneath him, shaking apart.

He followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling into her with a groan that felt torn from his chest.

When it was over, he stayed inside her, chest heaving, their bodies slick and intertwined.

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