Page 25 of Undoing His Innocent Enemy (Hot Winter Escapes)

The question echoed in his consciousness but was swept away before he could engage with it by the tidal wave of yearning, of desperation as he felt her muscles twitch and pulse along his length, drawing him deeper still. The urge to move became so strong, he had to grit his teeth, to pull out slowly and thrust back as carefully as he could, amazed when he sank even further.

‘Is it okay? You are not hurt?’ he managed.

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m good. You have to move, Logan.’

He didn’t need a second invitation, the primal urge already clawing at his spine.

His rhythm was clumsy, uncoordinated at first, but her sighs, her shudders spurred him on. He rotated his hips, pulled out, thrust back, establishing the undulating thrusts, aware of what made her sigh, what made her tense.

The need built like a tsunami, claiming every part of his soul, in sweet, stunning increments, until he couldn’t hold back any part of his need.

She clung to him, her nails carving deep grooves in his back, his body rejoicing as the sharp pain combined with the visceral pleasure.

She cried out, her body massaging him at last, and the pleasure exploded. He shouted out as his seed pumped into her—draining him, and shattering her.

He collapsed on top of her, throwing him over into a deep abyss of perfect gratification, pure pleasure, as one last coherent thought echoed inside his head.

I must let her go. Or I will want to do this again... And again... And again. Until I am lost for ever.

CHAPTER SIX

CARALAYSTARINGat the vaulted wooden beams that made up the ceiling of Logan Colton’s bedroom. His shoulder lay heavy on her chest, pressing her into the mattress.

She’d had two stunning orgasms in Logan’s arms.Two!And while he still felt huge inside her, and she was a little sore, the glittering pleasure—and that heady feeling of fulfilment—was far greater.

But it wasn’t just the endorphins barrelling through her system that were making her heart throb in her chest. She slid her hands over his shoulders, wanting to hold on to the moment a little while longer.

No one had ever made her feel so good. So right. And this man was a total novice. A smile curved her lips. Well, he wasn’t a novice any more. If he had ever really been one.

And neither was she.

He groaned and lifted off her, rolling—or rather flopping—onto his back beside her.

They were both staring at the ceiling now.

She turned her head, to find him watching her intently.

‘What is your name?’ he asked, his tone gruff.

She chuckled. She couldn’t help it.

That had to be the afterglow talking, surely?

Totally.

‘Cara. Cara Moira Doyle. I’m named after my maternal grandmother, who was by all accounts a fierce woman. I wish I had met her. Sorry, that’s probably TMI again.’

Okay, Cara, stop talking before you exhaust the poor man.

She pursed her lips, but she couldn’t prevent her smile spreading at the thought that he already seemed a little shattered, and she was the cause.

‘Hello, Cara,’ he said, and emotion tightened around her ribs.

‘Hello, Logan, it’s been a pleasure,’ she said as another laugh bubbled out of her mouth.

For goodness’ sake, stop giggling like a moonstruck girl.

But even as she tried to control the smile on her lips, it refused to leave her heart. She knew this was just sex—even if it was really spectacular sex—but the truth was, she felt impossibly grateful to him, for showing her that there had never been anything wrong with her. That the men—no, the boys—she’d kissed before, and Barry O’Connell in particular, who had treated her with so little care or affection or tenderness, then told her she was frigid when she had asked him to stop, had been as much to blame for her appalling experience of sex as she was.

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