Edge of Surrender by Laura Griffin Page A

with anticipation as he slid down her body.
    He was doing it again, getting ahead of her. She reached down and felt the rough denim of his jeans. She dipped her fingers under the waist, but he moved farther out of reach.
    She squirmed lower, groping for him in the darkness, encountering his muscled torso, his lean waist, the hard bulge in his jeans. He looked at her, propping himself up on his palms as she reached for his zipper. She watched him as she tugged it down. As she slipped her hand inside his jeans, he made a low groan.
    She pushed at the denim, and he rolled to his side, moving out of her grasp as he got free of his clothes. But then he was back again, settling himself heavily between her legs, and a gasp of pleasure escaped her. He propped himself on his elbows and kissed her, and she felt a giddy rush. This was what she wanted, this intimacy. She shifted under the hard weight of him, and the pulsing started up again, and she felt a sharp craving deep inside her body. She slid her hand over his lean hip and pulled him closer. His kiss became more insistent, and the rhythm of it mesmerized her as she clutched her legs around him and arched her body.
    â€œRyan . . . please.”
    He dipped his head down and took her nipple. “Please what?”
    She rolled her hips.
    â€œSay it.”
    â€œPlease . . .” She couldn’t get the words out. She wanted him to do things to her that she didn’t even have the nerve to tell him. She just wanted him to know, and she had a feeling he did. She knew he did.
    Suddenly, he rolled away. She lay there in silence, gasping for breath. She looked at him in the dark and heard the rustle of a condom wrapper, and then he was back where she most wanted him to be. He slid her legs apart, and she bit her lip and braced herself. She held on to him as he pushed inside her, and she gasped against his neck.
    â€œYou okay?” His breath was warm against her temple, and his voice sounded tight.
    She rolled her hips to let him know she was fine and felt his shoulders tense under her hands. “Oh, yeah.”
    He pulled back slowly and thrust into her again. And again. And with each push, she took him deeper and deeper, until every nerve in her body was focused on the place where their bodies fused together.
    She couldn’t speak, couldn’t even breathe, so she pulled him closer as they picked up their rhythm again, their sweet, perfect rhythm that made her blind with need for him.
    He moved faster, harder. She slid her hands down to grip his hips, desperate to keep up, to reach that elusive place together, but he kept going and going until she thought she’d die from the wait. Her heart pounded crazily, and she panted against his neck as she moved with him.
    He was holding back. She could tell. She could feel it.
    â€œPlease,” she gasped.
    But he wouldn’t let go. His shoulders were taut, his muscles hard, as she clutched him closer and moved against him.
    â€œRyan, please .”
    She bit his shoulder, and he reared back, sending a spear of pleasure through her. And then something snapped in him—she felt the change instantly—and every move, every breath, became fierce and relentless. He drove himself into her over and over as she raked her nails down his back and gripped his body. It was more than she’d ever imagined, the searing heat, the blinding intensity, the frantic race to a peak that seemed just beyond her.
    â€œOh, yes. Ryan .”
    â€œTell me when.”
    She pulled him close.
    â€œTell me, Emma.”
    At the sound of her name from his mouth, she cried out. He was right there with her, coming into her with a powerful thrust and then collapsing against her.
    She clung to him, sweaty and dizzy, not wanting him to move even though he was crushing her. She wanted him right where he was, slick and heavy, with his heart pounding hard against her.
    With a deep groan, he rolled onto his back, dragging