“Yeah. Top drawer.”
Without letting go of her, he opened the drawer and pulled out a condom. “I won’t ask why you have these in your room, since you were practically a virgin before you were mine.”
“I wasn’t screwing guys, but that doesn’t mean I was a nun.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Believe it or not, I’ve been in this bed with a man before. Not—”
Growling, he gently shoved her face first on the bed. “Enough of that. I don’t want to hear a single fucking word about the other men you’ve known.”
“If you say so,” she said, wiggling her ass. Her hand disappeared under her body, and she touched herself. He could see her fingers peeking through from between her legs. “I need you, Holt. Hurry.”
He smacked her again, and she grinned. Actually fucking grinned. Jesus, she was going to kill him. And he’d never find someone who turned him on as much as she did, either. No matter how long he searched, or how far. She moaned and her fingers moved over herself faster, making his stomach tighten and his dick get uncomfortably hard.
Slipping the condom on his cock, he gritted his teeth. “Lydia.”
“Please,” she whimpered, tilting her ass up even more. Her fingers never stopped moving. “I need you.”
Slowly, oh so fucking slowly, he lowered her thong. Gripping her hips, he positioned himself behind her. “Then hold on tight, because you have me.”
Her hand curled into her comforter, and he thrust inside of her with one hard, fast drive. She was so tight and wet and hot. But when she writhed beneath him, a cry escaping her, he forgot all about that. “Harder—please.”
He froze, his grip on her hips softening. Hell, he’d just barged into her like a fucking newbie. He should have been easier on her. Gentler. “Are you…Did I…?”
“You didn’t hurt me.” She smacked the bed, her entire body practically throbbing with frustration. “Now keep going. And don’t you dare stop again.”
Oh, he wouldn’t. As a matter of fact, he never wanted to stop…
And that was fucking terrifying. More so than being lost in enemy territory, with no one to come help him. He tipped her hips up and withdrew, gritting his teeth when her body tried to pull him back in. She moved her hand out from underneath of her, but he grabbed it. “No. Keep touching yourself. Don’t stop.”
She whimpered, but did as told. As soon as she had her fingers on her clit, he moved his hips, driving inside of her again. She was even tighter now, and she made those whimpers that meant she was close to coming already. Reaching around her, he added his fingers to hers, helping her get herself off.
His other hand covered hers, entwining their fingers on the bed. She stiffened beneath him, clinging to his hand tightly. “I’m going to—yes.”
The words died on her lips, and she came. Her walls squeezed him, and she tried to pull back. He pressed down on her, leaving their hands against her clit, and fucked her. Nonsensical words escaped her, words that made no sense.
He’d never heard anything more beautiful.
Burying his face in her hair, he groaned and moved his hips faster, resting his weight on his elbows. “Fuck, Lydia. You’re going to kill me, you know that?”
She nodded frantically. “I can’t…no, don’t stop. More, more, yes.”
Her entire body went hard, and she came again, clamping down on his cock with heavenly pressure. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and he lost all control. What little he’d had left, anyway. The faster he moved, the more she cursed and cried and strained to get closer to him. By the time he came, she was right there with him again.
Spent, he collapsed to the mattress, rolling and taking her with him. They ended up lying diagonally across the bed, her hand on his chest and a leg thrown over both of his. He covered her hand with his and kissed her temple. It was quiet and still…
And he had something he needed to say.
Chapter Thirteen
Lydia sighed, feeling more at peace than ever before. Ever since her brother had dropped the bomb on her that, through his buddy, Ian, he might have found a position for her down at a hospital in Delaware, she’d been a mess of emotions, not sure what she should do, or say, when Ian called her later today, as promised. And when Holt had asked who Ian was, she’d frozen and refused to answer, refused to tell him he was her potential boss…all the way down in Delaware. If she told him she might be leaving, and he didn’t give a damn, it would hurt.
And she wasn’t kidding herself. He wouldn’t give a damn.
He played with a strand of her hair, his body gradually tensing beneath hers. Eying the clock, she saw it was close to eight-thirty in the morning. How it could be so early in the day, when so much had happened already, was beyond her.