His raw sensuousness sent me over the edge. I gasped, and yielded to the twisting, gasping sweetness that burst through me in whirls of electric sensation.
I was still panting when he gathered me against his warm, pulsing body. My breasts crushed against the hardness of his chest as he rubbed the bare skin of my back and shoulders. It was as if he knew I needed that, to ground me because I felt like I was going to float away.
I don’t know exactly when we started kissing, or when his soft stroking turned my skin to liquid fire. Something dormant had awakened in me, and I was greedy with it. I tugged on his jeans, sliding them off. I touched him, explored him, aroused him, worshiped him—the moon-curve of his lips, the pleasure groves behind his ears, the valleys between his hard, chiseled abs. He was like a piece of living, breathing, responsive art—melting when I touched him here, turning rock hard when I teased him there. I learned his taste and his curves, the sweetness of his breath, the indents of his back, the rough hair on his leg. I reveled in his moans, his grunts, his shivers of delight, the way his head rolled back when I took him in my mouth, the look in his eyes as he lowered his body over mine, imprisoning me in a web of mounting arousal.
He held still for a second, though I could feel him throbbing with need before he pushed in. My body stretched to accommodate him, inch by slick inch—slowly, impossibly—until he came to a barrier. He withdrew slightly and brushed a strand of hair off my face.
“Kiss me,” he said, smoky and raw.
I touched my lips to his, my focus still on the point where our bodies were melded.
“A real kiss,” he growled, grazing my bottom lip with his teeth. “Like this.” His mouth swooped down to capture mine until my senses were spinning. My breath escaped through softly parted lips. “Give me your tongue.” His words were a spell I had fallen under. I shivered as the velvet warmth of his tongue tangled with mine, losing myself to the mastery of his kiss.
That was when he thrust deep into me—one hard, firm push that made me gasp and break free of his lips. I clutched his shoulders, my nails leaving crescent shaped indents as the pain tore through me.
“Shhh. I’ve got you.” He dropped kisses on my forehead, my nose, the corner of my mouth. He stayed inside me, not moving, until my body adjusted to him and the pain subsided.
“Not gonna lie.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he started to rock gently inside me. “It’s taking everything in me not to take you hard and fast. You feel like heaven.” He laced his fingers through mine, as if to anchor himself.
My body melted around him, and the world was filled with him. We found a tempo that bound our bodies together.
Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, it sung to me, each thrust of his hips carrying me higher.
I clung to him, riding out the raging storm that was building up inside me.
“Rodel.” The words were strained as he buried his face in my neck, his hot breath scorching my skin. Passion flamed through my veins as his rhythm changed. His fingers dug deep into my hipbones as he started tipping over the fine edge of control. His thumb found my clit and he drew out a moan. My thoughts fragmented as he teased it, stroked it, flicked it.
“Jack.” My entire body clenched and then peaked as he freed me in bursts of shuddering rapture.
Lighting flared around us as his breath hitched and his thighs tensed. In a moment of blinding clarity, I realized that every time the thunder rolled, I would think of Jack—the essence of him clinging to my senses, the turbulence of his passion around me, our boundary lines dissipating. Skin and bone and breath tangled up in a sizzling bolt of ecstasy.
We lay there, chests heaving, Jack’s forehead resting on mine until our breathing slowed.
“You okay?” he asked, running his thumb along my jaw.
I sighed in pleasant exhaustion and snuggled closer. I ached, but it was nothing compared to the satisfaction that came from yielding to the searing need that had been building up in me.
“When do you think we can do it again?” I asked.
“You little minx.” Jack smiled and wrapped me up in his arms. He was warm. So deliciously warm.
My eyelids drooped, but I didn’t want to miss any of it—the way his fingertips were tracing the outline of my lips, the way his beautifully proportioned body felt against mine, the flecks of harvest gold in his sky-blue eyes.
“Remember this.” He brushed the hair off my neck and breathed a kiss there. “When you’re curled up with your books on a rainy afternoon in England, remember how you painted my world with your colors. Remember your rainbow halo.”
“I will.” A hot ache grew in my throat. He was already saying goodbye. “I’ll remember. For the rest of my life.”
Outside, the thrumming of the rain softened as the clouds passed over. Inside, we held each other, burning bittersweet poems in the silence.
“Jack?” I propped myself up and looked at him, brows softened, eyes half closed, defenses down. Spent and happy, like a big cat lounging on a rock.
I wanted to remember him like this, exactly like that.
“What?” He was measuring my palm against his, fingers splayed, all five touching each other.
I wish I could explain to you what that voice does to me.
I wish I could explain to you how you make me feel.
I don’t think I’ll ever fall as hard and as fast for anyone, the way I fell for you.
I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone the way I love you.
“Nothing.” I took his face in my hands and kissed him.