Page 97 of The Polly Principle (The Laws of Love 2)

In all honesty, since the weekend, she’d been kicking herself for not sneaking into Gran’s bed and wrapping her arms and legs around Solo like a sex octopus. On Sunday she had stayed all day with Dad and Mim after Solo had left early. She’d let Dad show her round the farm, made lunch with Mim, and when she’d got home it was late. Solo had left her a text asking how it went and saying he’d enjoyed it, and she’d messaged back saying all fine. Frankly, her feelings were confusing the hell out of her. The lust she could handle, but not thelikethat was threatening to tip way too far into something else. Something more intimate and too beautiful.

She ran into the bathroom, rubbed toothpaste round her teeth, fluffed out her curls and bit her lips to bring colour to them, and when she heard the familiar deep roar of his motorbike, her heart rapped against her ribs.

She undid two buttons of her blouse. It would make access just that bit easier.

Then he was at the door and she gave him the kind of awkward polite welcome she’d give a vacuum cleaner salesman. She’d never felt so coy around a guy.

“So, about that drink.” She obviously wasn’t going to drag him straight into the bedroom. That would be kind of crass, even for her.

He strode into the kitchen and laid his helmet down on the table. “Yeah, about that drink.”

She grabbed ice out of the freezer, trying not to notice just how nice his crotch looked in his tight jeans, and the way his thighs ran into his calves and into his bike boots. He took off his jacket and his biceps flexed invitingly. She turned to the glasses with an internal whimper, and threw together ice, gin and mixer haphazardly.

“Cheers.” She tried to look nonchalant, hips against the kitchen bench, and they both took a few sips. Lowering the glass, her eyes locked with his as he stood by the table. His Adam’s apple bobbed as if swallowing was an effort, the silver of his eyes deepening to storm-grey.

In two strides he was at her side. Gently he prised the glass from her fingers and put it on the bench. Next, he took her hands and slowly, deliberately, tucked them one at a time around his waist. As if hypnotised, she moved into his embrace.

The hard pouch in his jeans pressed into her belly. The fact that he was already so turned on by her made her suddenly wild.

With a moan Polly climbed his body like a kitten scaling a tree.

Solo grabbed her butt, anchoring her close as they kissed like crazy things. And, ah, how she’d forgotten in a week how badly she needed his kisses. They were like the elixir of life itself, she decided, as his tongue forged into her mouth.

Teasing him a little, she ran her tongue along the seam of his lips until he growled and bit then licked her lower lip.

“Bedroom?” she finally husked against his mouth.

“Or we could do it right here.” He’d turned so macho, and it was such a turn-on.

She rifled her hands through his hair, slithered down his body. “Why not.”

He gave a lascivious grin and, as if to torture her, slowed the pace, undoing the buttons of her shirt one at a time. They both gazed down at the creamy flesh begging to escape the confines of her bra. He pushed down the cups and she sighed as his fingers grazed over her nipples, before dark spiky hair was all she could see and all she could feel was his lips teasing her nipple into a hard little nub of delight. He gave the other the same lavish attention. Her back arched as he sucked, then, unable to bear it any longer, she pushed him off, ripped off her neat little work shirt, and then made light work of his.

Running her hands along the ridges and planes of his chest, she gasped, “I just want you inside me. Now.”

“What happened to foreplay?” he murmured, tiptoeing his lips down her neck, hungry fingers ruching up her skirt until she shoved a thigh between his and rode him like a rodeo queen. That worked. He groaned, his erection grinding into her belly.

“Like this—” She turned around, not caring that her skirt was still bunched around her waist, and wriggled her butt cheeks up at him as she splayed her hands on the benchtop. “I want you like this—”

“Oh fuck, you are magnificent.” Behind her she could hear the awe in his voice and she heard the zipper of his pants before he was back, pushing down her panties, his fingers stroking between her wet folds. She gasped as he found her clit.

“Oh yes… more…” Tight knuckles clasped the edge of the bench as he stroked her with expert precision.

Then two fingers dipped inside her and she bucked, heat building at her core, while his other hand anchored her hips.

“Oh, god—I—like, now!” She groped for her bag—luckily she’d thrown it on the benchtop nearby—and pulled out the condom pack. Twisting her head, she glanced up at him.

Desire filled out his lips, his nostrils flared, his eyes almost other-worldly. Her internal muscles clenched, knowing he was the most beautiful man to ever take her like this, rough and wild and untamed. Her hips spread wider and his strokes grew faster. It was almost unbearable, as the heat swirled and gained momentum, she was teetering so close to the edge.

She needed him inside her. “Stop torturing me.”

“I won’t be able to hold out for long.”

“You won’t have to.”

His hand moved away to grab the condoms on the bench and the loss of his touch made her bite her lip in frustration. She heard the rip of foil. The wait was unbearable. She angled her hips higher. When the head of his cock nudged her entrance, she let out a low moan.

Anchoring her hips with his hands, slowly at first, he thrust. With a happy groan she felt his hand resume its task, the pressure of his fingers just right, like somehow he just knew what she needed without words. Was this what being perfectly in tune with someone was all about? It had taken months to train Jake to get it right, but Solo took her to the edge so fast; a few magic strokes and it was like a tornado had taken over her body.

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