Page 43 of After Indigo Irish Nights
“Okay, then.”
She pulled his head down to her own. The meeting of their mouths was like their first kiss—and the second—all-consuming. Flames rushed over them, wrapping them in the brutal desire they had for each other. She moaned as his hands lifted her, their mouths dueling, and then wrapped her legs around his waist.
He grunted and walked briskly into the bedroom by the front door, laying her on the bed. She kissed him deeply as they started pulling at each other’s clothing. A seam ripped, making her laugh again, and his delicious smile made her toes curl with pleasure. Then he took off her bra and fastened his mouth on her breast, making her cry out, her back arching. His hand pulled her jeans down to her knees and then pressed between them, making her come. Just. Like. That.
He pulled off the rest of their clothes until their searing flesh met again. She was still pulsing as he laid her back and opened her legs.
“God, I need a condom,” he said, turning away.
She grabbed his arm. “I’m on the pill, if you’re clean.”
“I’m clean,” he muttered, closing his eyes, his face an agony of desire. “Jesus.”
She knew what he was struggling with, the brutal urge to mate, to join, to be taken. She rose up until she was sitting and pressed her open hands on his chest, knowing any other touch would destroy him.
“Come into me,” she whispered, lying back again, taking his hands with her, bringing him into position over her. “Now, Declan.”
When he met her gaze again, he was feverish with want. He pressed against her and then found his mark, thrusting into her in one restrained move that stole her breath with its power. Her belly tightened again, and she knew the urgent call of another orgasm was rising within her. She lifted her hips to him, urging him on, and he finally let go of his control. He withdrew and then thrust back in, the beautiful, agonizing stroke making her cry out.
He froze.
“Oh, God, don’t stop,” she panted. “Please don’t stop.”
He propped himself onto his elbows, wedging an arm under her hips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She grabbed his rock-hard butt in her hands. “You won’t. Give us what we both need.”
As she tightened around him, he finally heeded her, thrusting first deep and then shallowly until neither of them could control the wild rhythm of their straining bodies. The razor-sharp claws of passion had her gripping him hard as he thrust into her. Fast, deep, hard—perfect. She knew she was going to come, could feel the tide rising, and she locked her legs around him and made him come with her.
She broke into a million pieces, every cell in her pulsing. He reared back, and on his next thrust, he cried out.
She lay back heavily on the bed as the pleasure swept through her every cell, making her skin tingle from it. “Oh, God,” she managed, the electricity stronger than she’d ever had to bear.
This was no soft glow of pleasure—this was the agonizing conclusion of being tossed onto the beach after riding through a hurricane.
“You all right?” he uttered between loud, urgent breaths, his head on the pillow beside her.
She found her hand—it lay on his back—and stroked him briefly, her nerve endings still buzzing from the avalanche of release. “Getting there. You?”
“I might be able to move in ten years.” He gave a quick laugh. “Good God.”
“Yeah, that’s my consensus.” Nothing had ever been as powerful as this. “It was like turning my blowtorch on full throttle. God, I swear if I smell oranges right now, I might get violent.”
“No one likes a know-it-all, do they?” Another laugh rumbled from his chest. “I’m as wrecked as I’ve ever been. Jesus, Kathleen. Has it ever been like this for you?”
“No. You?”
“Not ever,” he said, inhaling deeply, “and I thought nothing could surpass the time I got with a very experienced Portuguese girl who knew more than I did as a lad of eighteen. Is that improper to say right now?”
This time she laughed and gripped him in a quicksilver hug. “It’s honest, and I like honest. So your best sex was exotic vacation sex. Funny how I talked about wishing I could meet you on vacation.”
He pressed onto his elbows and looked into her face, his blue eyes as brilliant as ocean waves lit by the midday sun. “You did at that, but we didn’t meet on vacation, and what happened here made that seem almost tepid in comparison. How does that sit with you?”
She traced his sweaty hair falling over his forehead. “Are we talking now? Because if we are, I must demand a water break.”
“You’re a lightweight then,” he said, the makings of a rare full grin on his face. “You need more training.”
Her heart expanded like metal from heat. She liked him like this, sexy, funny, daring. “A lightweight? Say that again and see what happens.”
