Page 581 of Rock Me All Night
He slides his hand behind my neck, cupping the back of my head. He tilts me so we're eye to eye.
I stare into his gorgeous eyes for as long as I can. The way pleasure spreads over his expression—his pupils dilate, his lips part, his eyes roll back in his head—is enough to send me over the edge. But, God, the intimacy of it. I can barely breathe.
My eyes close of their own accord. With his next thrust, I come. My fingers dig into his skin. I groan his name again and again. My body goes slack.
Damn, that's intense.
He slows, waiting for me to catch my breath. His eyes are heavy with lust but he stays attentive.
My hands go to his shoulders. I nod anokay.Better than okay. Amazing.
He stays slow, thrusting deep enough I forget to breathe. All my attention is on him. I love the way his shoulders shake. The way his lips part, and his voice gets deep and low, and my name falls off his tongue.
We stay pressed together against the pool wall until we catch our breath.
The rest of the night is perfect. We swim under the stars until we're exhausted. Then it's takeout on the couch and a crime procedural TV marathon. I fall asleep on the couch, in his arms.
* * *
For days, life is perfect. I hike in the hills all morning, spend the day studying, join Pete on the couch every night. We take turns making dinner—I cook, he orders takeout—and picking movies. Mine are soapy teen dramas. His are sci-fi thrillers.
Everything is perfect until I wake up to a missed call from Madison.
There's no voicemail. Only a short text message.
Madison: We have to talk.
