Page 69 of Bad Love

"Sayswho?"

"Hunter—"

Before I can get out the words to stop him, he's pulling me down onhim.

Oh myGod.

Every inch sliding inside me has my eyebrows shooting up to myhairline.

When he finally stops, my body's spasming around him, my fingers digging into his shoulders until they'rewhite.

Hunter's lips brush my ear, the piercing making me gasp and clench around his cock. “Can I tell you a secret? Your notebook’s full of shit. Rainbows aren’t nature’s gold.” I pull back enough to look in his wicked eyes. “Thisis.”

He thrusts into me one,twice.

I'm helpless. Out of control. I’m fighting it, fighting him, arching away, even as he finds a rhythm that has metrembling.

His shoulders are tight, his hands gripping my hips. But it's his face that affects me. The tightness in his jaw, the parting of his mouth as he watches what he'sdoing.

What we'redoing.

His chin lifts as if he senses my attention, and he goes still, his gaze working over mine. “You okay,Peach?”

Okay. What is “okay”?

I forget what it means, and I don’t care. What I am is full. Full of Logan Hunter. Because he’s insideme.

I have a foot cramp, and we’re in the back of a limo, and Logan Hunter’s cock is beautiful and insideme.

“Yes,” Iwhisper.

Relief edges into his expression. Then he leans forward to press his lips against mythroat.

I love knowing I can take this man, who’s so self-assured and easygoing in public, and make himvulnerable.

My eyes fall closed, and I shiver against the coarse scrape of his stubble. The feel of his warm breath on my skin has me relaxing a degree. Enough for me to melt around him. He keeps dropping kisses across my neck, my jaw, and my muscles unclench one byone.

Until he rasps, "Can you takemore?"

There's more? But I realize I'm nodding when he tugs my hipsforward.

It changes the angle, and he's goingdeeper.

"Oh, Logan, where are you putting that?" I mumble. It’s embarrassing, but my verbal filter seems to have deserted me around the time he pressed insideme.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he murmurs,chuckling.

I feel him everywhere. I can't speak. But Ihaveto breathe, I reason, because otherwise he'll split me intwo.

My finger traces the leather seat behind his head, needing something that’s not his wild male heat to ground me. To remind me I’m stillme.

Gradually, the feeling changes inside me. Morphs from fear and nerves into need, blinding in its simplicity andaudacity.

And the second I get comfortable, he’s moving. Short, determined strokes I sense aren’t as long as he’d like, given where weare.

His hands dig into my ass, my skirt bunched around my waist, but it’s his lips on my collarbone that distract me. As if he’s containing all of me between his hips and hands and mouth, and when that smooth metal drags over my skin, my eyes rollback.

I feel myself squeeze him, and he groans. “Shit, you’re so damned tight. You go, I’m coming withyou."

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