loosen up and let me in.”
Then she lifted her head, taking his mouth in a torrid kiss. The minute her tongue skimmed his, her inner muscles eased, and he slid straight to the hilt. They both groaned.
His body took over then, enticed by her sleek heat. He surged into her over and over, aware that their breaths were in sync, that he was holding her down to the mattress so that all she could do was writhe against him, pinned by his lunging cock.
It was the hottest sex he’d ever had, until he opened his eyes and looked at Meg’s beautiful face and it hit him again, another heart-smite, and he stopped breathing altogether at the wonder of it all. Could it really be…? But of course it could, because nothing had been like this before, no woman made him feel so much tenderness and lust and crazy certainty that they had to make this happen.
That they had to be together.
“Meg,” he said, but his voice was too gruff for such declarations.
She moaned, wiggling some more, and her inner muscles clenched again, this time in demand. His lust spiked at the feel of her squeezing him and he knew the crisis was at hand. He put his mouth to her neck, compelled to mark her with a tiny bite. She cried out, lifting herself upward and he slid one hand between their bodies, a nudge all that was needed for her to detonate again.
His was a slower explosion. The orgasm shuddered through him, rattling his bones, quivering his muscles, making him spasm in absolute, astonishing pleasure.
When it finally faded, he withdrew from Meg then dropped to the mattress beside her. Rolling his head to look at her, he pushed her hair from her face, then used his thumb to caress the love bite he’d left on her neck.
“You’ll have a bruise,” he told her. At that sign of his possession he felt very primal—and not the least bit politically correct. “Should I say I’m sorry?” Though he wasn’t. Not at all.
She was his, damn it. Forever.
“No worries.” Her smile was sleepy and sweet. “It’s temporary, just like us.”
* * *
Meg realized too late that she should have slipped out after the spectacular sex. By the time she opened her eyes, it was past daybreak, and there was a man sitting on the mattress with a mug of coffee in his hand, watching her.
“Good morning,” she said, meeting his gaze square-on. The sex had been a mutual choice, and she wasn’t going to start feeling shy about her part in it now. Still, she worried about striking just the right note. It had been a one-night stand and she didn’t want to give him the impression she expected anything more than that.
“I think it is a very good morning,” he said, and held out the mug.
With the sheet clutched to her bare chest, she struggled to a sitting position and then claimed the coffee. It smelled delicious and a little like… “Cinnamon?” she asked, sniffing.
“A trick I learned from my sister. You sprinkle it over the grounds before brewing.”
“You really are trying to become domesticated.”
“After my heart surgery I decided I needed a few more dimensions to my life,” Caleb said.
Meg didn’t like thinking of him in a hospital, his chest being opened. She’d kissed him there the night before, right over the scar, just before drifting off to sleep. It was covered now by a simple T-shirt, the pale green color a contrast to the golden tan of his skin. Taking another sip, she noted the newly shaved skin of his face and the shininess of his damp hair. Really, he was ridiculously handsome, she thought, as warmth started pooling in her belly.
Not a good idea. Remember—one-night stand!
“What time is it?” she asked, glancing around for a clock. The overcast sky she could see through the window made it impossible to guess.
“About nine.”
“Nine?” she squeaked and shoved the mug in his direction, preparing to leap from the bed. “I never sleep late. I have things to do—”
“Like what?” he asked, pushing the coffee back into her
Then she lifted her head, taking his mouth in a torrid kiss. The minute her tongue skimmed his, her inner muscles eased, and he slid straight to the hilt. They both groaned.
His body took over then, enticed by her sleek heat. He surged into her over and over, aware that their breaths were in sync, that he was holding her down to the mattress so that all she could do was writhe against him, pinned by his lunging cock.
It was the hottest sex he’d ever had, until he opened his eyes and looked at Meg’s beautiful face and it hit him again, another heart-smite, and he stopped breathing altogether at the wonder of it all. Could it really be…? But of course it could, because nothing had been like this before, no woman made him feel so much tenderness and lust and crazy certainty that they had to make this happen.
That they had to be together.
“Meg,” he said, but his voice was too gruff for such declarations.
She moaned, wiggling some more, and her inner muscles clenched again, this time in demand. His lust spiked at the feel of her squeezing him and he knew the crisis was at hand. He put his mouth to her neck, compelled to mark her with a tiny bite. She cried out, lifting herself upward and he slid one hand between their bodies, a nudge all that was needed for her to detonate again.
His was a slower explosion. The orgasm shuddered through him, rattling his bones, quivering his muscles, making him spasm in absolute, astonishing pleasure.
When it finally faded, he withdrew from Meg then dropped to the mattress beside her. Rolling his head to look at her, he pushed her hair from her face, then used his thumb to caress the love bite he’d left on her neck.
“You’ll have a bruise,” he told her. At that sign of his possession he felt very primal—and not the least bit politically correct. “Should I say I’m sorry?” Though he wasn’t. Not at all.
She was his, damn it. Forever.
“No worries.” Her smile was sleepy and sweet. “It’s temporary, just like us.”
* * *
Meg realized too late that she should have slipped out after the spectacular sex. By the time she opened her eyes, it was past daybreak, and there was a man sitting on the mattress with a mug of coffee in his hand, watching her.
“Good morning,” she said, meeting his gaze square-on. The sex had been a mutual choice, and she wasn’t going to start feeling shy about her part in it now. Still, she worried about striking just the right note. It had been a one-night stand and she didn’t want to give him the impression she expected anything more than that.
“I think it is a very good morning,” he said, and held out the mug.
With the sheet clutched to her bare chest, she struggled to a sitting position and then claimed the coffee. It smelled delicious and a little like… “Cinnamon?” she asked, sniffing.
“A trick I learned from my sister. You sprinkle it over the grounds before brewing.”
“You really are trying to become domesticated.”
“After my heart surgery I decided I needed a few more dimensions to my life,” Caleb said.
Meg didn’t like thinking of him in a hospital, his chest being opened. She’d kissed him there the night before, right over the scar, just before drifting off to sleep. It was covered now by a simple T-shirt, the pale green color a contrast to the golden tan of his skin. Taking another sip, she noted the newly shaved skin of his face and the shininess of his damp hair. Really, he was ridiculously handsome, she thought, as warmth started pooling in her belly.
Not a good idea. Remember—one-night stand!
“What time is it?” she asked, glancing around for a clock. The overcast sky she could see through the window made it impossible to guess.
“About nine.”
“Nine?” she squeaked and shoved the mug in his direction, preparing to leap from the bed. “I never sleep late. I have things to do—”
“Like what?” he asked, pushing the coffee back into her
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