In the ambient lighting he’d created, he looked like a pagan god, leaning over her in nothing but those board shorts, now so low on his lean hips as to be nearly indecent. She’d never seen anything sexier in her entire life. Catching her staring, he smiled and went to pour more oil on his hands but she shook her head.
“One of us is overdressed,” she murmured.
Setting down the oil, he rose and unfastened his board shorts. Letting them fall, he kicked them off.
He’d gone commando and was aroused. Very aroused. She moistened her dry lips and said, “I’m glad I’m not on curfew this time. I don’t think I can take another interruption.”
Another low laugh left him. “Not going to happen.” He bent his head and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until she was writhing on the bed needing more. Reaching down, she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked, coaxing a deliciously male sound from his throat.
“You taste like a strawberry margarita,” she murmured.
“I want to find out what you taste like,” he said and slid down her body, kissing every inch of her as he went. Her jaw, her throat, her shoulder and collarbone. Her breasts. He spent long moments there, teasing, biting softly down on a nipple before drawing it into his mouth and sucking so that she arched off the bed.
“Mmm,” he said, his voice low and hot. “You taste amazing.” He nibbled a hip. Scraped his teeth over her belly, an inner thigh. Then the other.
And then in between.
She would’ve come right off the mattress if he hadn’t had a hand on either of her hips holding her down, anchoring her to the bed as he had his merry way with her. Her entire body was tensed like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap and just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he slowed down and let her catch her breath.
Then he started over, again taking her to very edge and holding her there until she was rocking mindlessly, her hands fisted in his hair, shamelessly begging for him to finish her.
Which he did.
When he finally crawled back up her body, he kissed her before rolling on a condom while she watched—which was shockingly, incredibly arousing all by itself—and when he was done, his gaze swept over her as he gave himself a long, slow stroke.
Sitting up, she nudged his hands away and took over. His head fell back as a rough groan escaped him. When she leaned forward and licked his nipple in tune to another stroke, he wrapped an arm low around her hips and lifted her, guiding himself home.
He sank in deep. So deep she cried out his name and clutched at him. “Okay?” he asked, holding himself utterly still, the strain of doing so in every line of his gorgeous, hard body. “Do you want to stop?”
“Stop and I’ll kill you, right here in Mexico where I could probably even get away with it.”
His laugh was rough, as was hers. The sound must have triggered something inside him because he laid her back on the mattress, leaned over her, and drove into her, thrusting long and hard and deep. She wrapped her legs around his waist and met him stroke for stroke, crying out as he took her to paradise.
Sean might as well have just been hit by a runaway Mack truck. He felt that gobsmacked by what had just happened between him and Lotti. It’d been . . . incredible. Like holy shit, off the rails, into the stratosphere incredible. He glanced over at her and found her eyes closed. She was breathing like she’d just run a mile. Her skin was flushed and she was damp with sweat, her hair rioting wildly around her face. She looked thoroughly fucked and thoroughly sated.
And she’d never looked more beautiful. “Lotti.”
She opened her eyes. They were dazed and glossy and unfocused. “Hmm?”
He rose up on an elbow and leaned over her. “Tell me that was real. That you didn’t . . .”
Her eyes narrowed. “Didn’t what?”
She blinked and then . . . laughed. She laughed so hard that she started to choke and he had to yank her upright and get her some water, which she proceeded to also choke on.
It was an excruciating five minutes later before she could talk and he was waiting with a barely tethered impatience.
“You think I faked it?” she asked incredulously. “Twice?”
“Three times,” he said.
She blushed a little, but overall looked so pleased with herself that he relaxed.
“Okay then,” he said. “So you didn’t.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. “What if I had? What then?”
“We’d start over from the beginning.”
She stared at him and then gave a slow, sexy smile, and he felt his heart roll over and expose its underbelly.
“Then I definitely faked them,” she said and lay back. “So you’d better start over from the beginning.”
Lying there with Sean after round two, waiting for their heart rates to recover from stroke level, Lotti kept expecting him to get up and leave.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he straightened the covers that they’d destroyed and then climbed back in bed with her.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he pulled her in close.
“Worried?” he asked.
When was he going to learn—she was always worried. Although a good amount of that worry faded, replaced by something else as he nuzzled at her jaw, making a very male, very sexy satisfied sound deep in his throat. “Are you . . . cuddling me?” she asked.
“Trying,” he said, sounding amused.
She allowed it because who the hell was she kidding, she loved the way he was holding her, loved the feel of his warm, strong body cradling hers. But she did feel that she needed to remind them both of something. “You know that what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico, right?”
“Sure,” he said.
She opened her mouth to say “no really,” but he stroked her hair from her face and smiled at her. “Not a cuddler, huh?”
“I like affection,” she admitted. Way too much. “But you should know, I’m kind of . . . well, emotionally unavailable.”
“Is that right?”
“And what does that mean exactly, ‘kind of emotionally unavailable’?” he asked, looking sincerely interested, so she gave him the truth.
“It means I like it when you hold me,” she said. “But I don’t really want to answer any questions. Or talk,” she added, wanting to cover all her bases.
He grinned and kissed her. “Maybe I’ll wear you down.”
Her biggest fear was that he already had. “Don’t count on it.”
“Okay, tough girl,” he said softly, nuzzling at her throat. “No questions. No talking. You go ahead and give ignoring what’s still between us your best shot. I’ll wait right here.”
Much later Lotti came awake suddenly. The last thing she remembered was . . . well, riding Sean like a wild bronco. But she was alone in her bed.
So he’d left after all.
Okay, she got it. She really did. But wait a minute. There was a dim light coming from the direction of her kitchen table.
Sean sat at it, working on his tablet. “Sorry,” he said. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” Realizing she was bare ass naked, she grabbed the sheet and pulled it to her chin.
This made him smile. He was sitting on one of her chairs, which he’d turned around so his chest was leaning into the back of it, wearing nothing but those sexy as hell board shorts.