“I’ll make you pay for that.” She covered her embarrassment with a coy smile and a flutter of her lashes.

“I don’t think so.” Des scooped her up once more and she instinctively wound her legs around his waist.

The hardness of his erection and the sharp teeth of his zipper dug into the soft underside of her thighs. He held her easily, as though she weighed no more than a feather pillow. Stubble scraped along her skin as he kissed her neck, every so often thrilling her with a little nip as they made their way to the bedroom.

Hovering at the edge of the bed, he paused before lowering her until the soft cover pressed into her back. Moving down her body, his experienced hands easily dispensed of her bra. He trailed his lips down her stomach, pressing a kiss to each hipbone before he peeled the last scrap of lace from her body. As he slid the underwear down her legs, Gracie cringed at how wet they were. She had given in to her fantasies tonight, letting Des pull her apart at the seams, letting him encounter her at her most vulnerable.

“No frowning,” Des said, parting her legs and trailing a finger from knee to hip. “I only want you screwing up your face if you’re coming.”

“Get to work then.” She ran her foot up the side of his leg, over his hip until her toes traced the length of his erection. “But I want you to get rid of these first.”

“You want to see me naked, do you?” His tone was teasing, but he immediately complied.

Gracie sucked on her lower lip. “It’s only fair.”

Standing, he pushed his jeans down over muscular thighs. The black cotton boxer briefs followed. She drank him in, committed each and every angle to memory. He was magnificent, hard and smooth in all the right places. His cock jutted towards her, and her fingers ached to wrap around him again. She’d never felt so hungry for a man before. She’d never felt like her world might fracture if she didn’t find release with him deep inside her.

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, he grabbed her hips and dragged her to him, forcing her legs apart with his strong hands. She gasped. Each move was so primal and commanding. He didn’t ask for permission to please her, didn’t handle her as though she might break. He controlled her pleasure, took what he wanted.

Air rushed from her lungs as his mouth came down to her belly, kissing a blazing trail down to her center. His tongue parted her, delving, searching. The long, slow strokes pushed her higher and higher, each lick sending flames through her as she melted into the bed.

“Fuck.”

She never swore. Never, ever, ever.

“Fucking hell!” She wound her hands into his hair, tugging him into position.

He slid his hands under her ass, fingers biting into her flesh as he devoured her. Gracie bucked and arched against his face as his tongue swirled a hypnotic spiral over her clit. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled over her and she moved in time with his rhythmical assault.

“Such dirty language,” he murmured against her. “From such a lady.”

“I can’t—” She writhed, head rocking side to side. “Oh, God.”

Just as she thought she’d reached the peak, he slid a finger into her, twisting in and out in time with the purposeful flicks of his tongue.

She broke apart hard and fast. Spots danced behind clamped eyelids as she cried out, her back lifting from the bed. Her body shook and her hands fisted into the bed cover, heat and pleasure and satisfaction flooding her. Drowning her.

As she floated down to earth, Des’s weight pressed into her, his lips at her temple.

“That’s two.”

“I can count.” She wound her arms around his neck and drew him closer. “Though, I might not be able to after the next one.”

“That’s my goal.”

He reached over her to pull open the drawer next to the bed and grabbed a silver packet. Tearing it with his teeth, he never took his eyes off her. He sheathed himself with the condom and came back down onto his palms.

Here we go.

As he nudged her legs apart, she lifted to meet him. Positioning the head of his cock at her entrance, he brought his mouth down to hers for a deep yet tender kiss as he entered her in a single, steady stroke. His thighs were heavy between hers, his hips grinding her into the bed.

Hot, primal, carnal heat filled her with each movement. She was crushed beneath him, absorbed by the softness of the bed and floating on a wave of euphoria that she wanted to last forever. The sweet friction of their bodies pulled her out of a satiated state, hunger returning with force.

She wanted him. Needed him.

He angled his hips, shifting so that he filled her more deeply. His mouth was hot at her throat, teeth on her skin, the wild fluttering of her heart intensified by his hands all over her. Pleasure swelled, the pace increased. In that moment there was nothing but the sound of his deep, rumbling moan and the heady scent of him.

The orgasm slammed into her out of nowhere and her throat burned with a scream as she let go, falling, falling, falling. Her nails dragged up his back and he panted against her neck, her muscles squeezing him tight.

Now it was her turn to watch him unfold, the pupils of his entrancing eyes widening until she stared into an abyss. He moved with the powerful grace of a predatory cat, the muscles in his back cording beneath her hands.

“Gracie, baby.” It was drawn out, long and anguished and beautiful. He loomed above her, his hand finding her breast as he thrust.

He pressed his forehead to hers, noses touching as she stared unblinking back, wanting to drown in him, wanting to go under and never come back up.

“I want you to come, Des.” The words shook, her body already breaking apart. “Come for me.”

Her name was on his lips as he threw his head back, roaring his release to the ceiling. His skin glistened in the dim light, his tattoos stark against flushed skin. As he let his weight rest beside her she curled into him, never to be the same again.

Chapter Seven

Gracie wasn’t a morning person, not usually anyway. But the first crack of sunlight had her eyes snapping open like she’d been jabbed with a stick. She tried to shift onto her back, but something held her down.

A tanned arm, sprinkled with dark hair, lay over her midsection, a hand curled possessively against her stomach. It was difficult not to notice the jut of something hard against her lower back nor hear the drowsy murmur of pleasure as Des moved against her in his sleep.

Her body ached. Everywhere he’d touched her burned with satisfaction and a hint of delicious soreness. The memory of him moving above her would be forever imprinted in her mind, a bar set impossibly high for any other man she might end up with. Gracie cringed at the thought.

No other man would ever compare to Des.

Despite the stillness of her body, her heart beat wildly. Panic seeped through her like a poison, stilling her movement while her insides went into shock. What had she done? One minute she was at her mother’s house defending herself and her choices and then next…

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to slow her breathing. She’d almost had sex with Des at the restaurant and, if that wasn’t bad enough, she’d come home with him to do the one thing which would either ruin their friendship or ensure she’d break her promise to her father.

What the hell were you thinking? You can’t have it all. This isn’t a fairy tale.

Beautiful, kind, imperfect Des. He was her friend and she’d screwed it up by sleeping with him. How could she have been so stupid?

Any way she turned she would be hurting someone and making herself miserable. She had shared something special with Des last night. It wasn’t just amazing sex. They had a connection on some primal, instinctual level that made her body and soul sing.