Page 72 of Take 2
“Holy fuck.” He gives a gentle thrust, then another. I mimic the motion with my hand. “Let me see you come.”
The eruption is simmering in every nerve of my body. When it boils over, I cry out, pulling my face away from him as pleasure ripples through me. The vibrator falls to my side. Preston grips my hip and turns me toward the side of the bed so fast it makes my already spinning world blur. He drops to his knees and dives in to lick me like my orgasm is the finest delicacy on earth.
Holy shit.His mouth eases me down from my release more gently than what I get on my own, while also keeping me on the razor edge of another.
He looks up and grazes a fingertip along my humming skin. “Is it better than me?”
A laugh puffs out of me. “No.”
“What’s your favorite way to get off?”
“With you inside me.” Managing his ego used to be a concern, but now I have only one.
“Hmm.” He licks me again.
“Please fuck me.”
He groans against me, and it almost sends me over again. “Those words on your lips …” He stands and throws his shirt off. My legs hook around him when he tries to step away. “I’m just getting—”
“No. I’ve got the implant. Please. Please fuck me.”
His pupils dilate, and he drops onto me like I had lassoed him. Kisses claim my mouth, warmth emanates from his hand on my breast, and when he sinks into me, I suck in a sharp breath. The relief I didn’t know I’d been waiting years for carries me away as Preston Greene makes love to me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Isahappypanicattack a thing? I’m pretty fucking happy. My body physically can’t allow me to not be happy. But the cause of the happiness is really freaking me out.
Which is ridiculous. There’s nothing to freak out over. I’m in a comfy bed, in a luxurious hotel in the French Riviera, with a sex hangover. What kind of idiot freaks out over great sex with a guy she knows she could really … okay, that’s the source of the panic. Because I could fall for him, but I’ve been down that road before, and it was a dead end.
‘What if’s’ bombard me. He’s genuine, I know that. This is important to him, but intentions only go so far. It’s not enough to keep either of us safe.
The road to heartbreak was paved with good intentions. I know, it’s supposed to be the road to hell. Frankly, I think several roads are paved this way. There’s also the road to failure, the one to gifted kid burnout, and the road to dystopian societies.
But I’m getting ahead of myself; I don’t need to worry about where the road leads. This is still the fun part. Forget AJR. I don’t need to skip to the good part! I’m already there. I need to freeze time.
Preston wraps an arm around me. “Good morning.” The soft rumble of his half-asleep voice tugs at my heartstrings.
“Good morning.”
His eyes pop open too fast. What did I sound like? He props himself up on his elbow. “Mira?”
“Preston?”
“Are you going to get weird?”
“No. Why would I do that?”
He groans and falls back onto the pillow. “Considering you just sounded like Ross fromFriendssaying ‘I’m fine,’I would say you’d get weird because you are neurotic.”
My voice … was only half that squeaky at worst. However, without caffeine in my veins, there’s no way I have the energy to argue that, especially since the end result of me sounding like I am lying through my teeth about being fine is accurate.
After a moment, he sighs. “It must be really bad. You’re not even fighting me on it.”
“Maybe I just don’t want to fight with you anymore.”
He mumbles something about a cold day in hell and sits up. “What do you want, Mira?”
My feet bounce under the sheets. “I want to live in the moment and enjoy it and take it day by day.”
