Page 48 of Temptation at His Door

“Ronan, I’m so close. Don’t stop touching me.”

Ronan pushed himself up so his face was above hers, enjoying the flush on her cheeks, the rapid pulse beating in her throat.

He didthat. He made her hot and made her thrum, made her look like a wild woman. He was in his midthirties but he’d never felt more like a man than he did when he loved this amazing woman.

“What do you need, Ju?”

Those eyes drilled into him. “You, dammit. Now.”

Ronan fumbled with the button on his pants, with his zipper. He wouldn’t enter her, definitely wouldn’t let himself come; he wanted this to last all night, but he could torture them both, just a little more.

Still only using one hand, and with Joa’s fumbling help, he pushed his pants down and Joa pulled his shirt up and over his head. Ronan rubbed his cock over her and Joa release a soft series ofohhhhs andRo’s.

Her voice sounded like an ocean breeze and her scent was an orchard of apple trees.

And when he pushed into her, she felt like home.

He’d pull out, he would, in a minute—there were still things he wanted to do to her—but for now, he’d allow himself to sink, to fall.

Resting his elbows on either side of her head, he brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones, rested his forehead on hers. This—being here, with Joa—was both heaven and hell. Heaven because they fit together so well; hell because he’d thought this part of his life was over forever.

Not wanting his mind to send him down that path, he dropped his head to kiss Joa’s sensual mouth, all thoughts of right and wrong, past and future dissolving.

There was only now, and the present was perfect.

Ronan pushed his hand under Joa’s butt, lifted her hips and slid in a little deeper. This was as close as he could get, as far as he could go.

Feeling that familiar buildup at the base of his spine, in his balls, he gritted his teeth, telling himself that if he wanted to tease her,them, some more, he needed to pull out, to pull back.

“I love this, Ronan. I love your body. I love what you do to me.”

Her words were softly spoken but she lit the fuse allowing his self-control to detonate. With an animal-like roar, something he never recalled himself doing, ever, Ronan slammed into her, a voice telling him to be gentle, to take it easy. But he couldn’t, he needed to brand her, to mark her as his. Then Ronan realized her nails were pushing into his butt and she was lifting her hips to meet him, seemingly as desperate for him as he was for her. Wanting to test his theory, he slowed down, but Joa was having none of it. She jerked her hips up, taking what she needed, pushing up and into him, harder and faster.

Amazed by her passion, blown away by her need, he allowed her to control the rhythm and when he felt her ripple, when her channel clenched him, he started to move, long, sure strokes that were designed to maximize pleasure, to wring every drop from them both.

From far away he heard her scream, felt her blow apart, but then he was consumed by his own big bang, his own cosmic collision.

Pleasure, hot, fast and overwhelming, consumed him, and as he fell into that black hole of deliciousness, he felt Joa’s second orgasm setting his nerve endings alight.

His head ripped from his shoulders and his heart blew out of his chest.

It took a long time for Ronan to search for his missing body parts, longer still for him to patch himself back together again.

Joa shot up in bed, felt the cool air on her chest and looked down, shocked to notice she was naked. Lunging sideways, she whipped her phone off her bedside table and forced her eyes to focus on the screen.

It was nine twenty...

Crap, crap, crap.

Joa checked her alarm, saw that it had been turned off and silently cursed the very absent Ronan. She’d fallen asleep in his arms—somewhere around three thirty, after three bouts of lovemaking, twice in this enormous bed, the last in the shower—her head on his chest, her hand on his stomach, her knee nestled between his legs.

She’d felt warm and happy and safe and sated.

Well loved and well used, in the best way possible.

Joa slipped out of bed and stretched, placing her hands on the floor and arching her back. Sex, she decided, was as good as yoga for stretching her muscles, for flooding her system with endorphins.

Walking her hands out, she twisted her head to the side, elongating her neck. And on the floor, half under her bed, was Ronan’s shirt. After a few more stretches, she picked it up and slipped it over her head, pushing her arms down and smiling when the cuffs fell over her hands. She rolled back the sleeves and sniffed the collar, the scent of him warming her from tip to toe.

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