Gone by Annabel Wolfe

she could . She just shouldn’t.
    She wanted to. The idea of sleeping alone was fine—she did most nights despite her relationship with Eric—but she doubted she’d even close her eyes considering the events of the past twenty-four hours if she was alone.
    Besides, she’d missed him.
    She put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. “This is going to be very complicated. I want you to stay.”
    “Uh-huh.” He kissed her in the lingering way he had, long and sweet and slow.
    At that point she was lost. She whispered huskily, “I can’t possibly—”
    “You can.” His mouth moved to her temple and he pulled her closer. Close enough she could feel the tautness in his muscles and his growing arousal.
    Somehow her arms were around his neck and when he kissed her throat, his lips skimming the sensitive hollow just above her collarbone, she made an involuntary sound in response, her reservations melting away.
    Complicated suddenly became simple.
    They loved each other, and he wanted it and so did she. What could be simpler than that?
    “Let’s go in,” she suggested, her hands smoothing his back.
    Was she really going to do this?
    She was. She turned and walked into the house, hearing him shut the doors and slide the lock home with a clean click.
    Eric was right behind her when she walked into the bedroom, his hands catching her shoulders, sliding downward to cup her breasts through the material of her shirt. His mouth teased her neck. “Perfect.”
    “I’m far from perfect,” she murmured in laughing protest, turning around.
    “Perfect for me.” He kissed her, walking her backwards until she was against the bed and then suddenly on it, his weight on top of her, his mouth hungry and insistent. Nicole kissed him back with equal fervor, shifting beneath him, arching upward.
    “God, yes,” he said as her hands slid under his shirt, pushing it upward. He ripped it up over his head and reached for the buttons on her blouse, slipping them free with deft precision and removing her bra with the same urgency, then they were bare breasts to bare chest, his skin warm against her erect nipples. His breath was hot against her ear. “Can you feel how much I want you?”
    The hard length of his erection was hardly a secret as closely as his body pressed against hers. Now that she had decided to do this—and she did wonder how she’d look back on this moment—there was no reversing it. “Show me,” she told him, running her nails lightly along his torso.
    “That isn’t something you need to ask me twice.” Hazel eyes gazed into hers with a singular depth of emotion that melted her heart.
    He shed his shorts swiftly and then turned to hers, his erection high and swollen against the flat plane of his stomach as he slid the material down her hips and tossed them carelessly aside. His body was toned and sleek, his shoulders wide, and when he leaned down to trace the curve of her breast with his mouth, her breath caught in her throat.
    “Eric.”
    “You taste like vanilla.” He lightly sucked on her nipple, and then drew it more deeply into his mouth. “Delicious.”
    In answer, she lifted her pelvis to press against his rigid cock, tingles running up her spine. He used his tongue to tease and tempt, and his other hand was busy, gently massaging the other breast as he suckled.
    It was impossible to deny she was wet and ready, the warmth between her legs growing with each touch, each caress, and Nicole couldn’t suppress a muted sigh of enjoyment.
    He knew her. Knew her body, knew every sensitive spot, every inch, and when his fingers traveled south, she opened her thighs without reservation.
    His touch was practiced and…perfect.
    She trembled at the rush of pleasure, and in response, he murmured, “Not yet.”
     
    Normally he wasn’t a demanding lover, in the sense that what he wanted the most was for her to enjoy it. It went without saying that he was going to have mind-blowing sex if Nicole was