When she didn't think she could take it another second, he stepped backward until he hit the side of the bed and then sank down, bringing her with him to straddle his lap. She pushed up on her knees to give herself a little extra height and took control of the kiss. He ran his hands along her exposed thighs, up underneath her skirt, and then wrapped them around her hips. Her heart beat so strongly, she could feel the resonant thud through her entire body.
"Dylan," she breathed between kisses. She'd never wanted a man this badly before. Couldn't imagine ever wanting someone this badly again.
One by one, he undid the buttons on her blouse, and then peeled the fabric back to reveal her blush-pink demicup bra. He traced a finger around its lacy edges and over the slope of her breasts just before they disappeared into the cups. "So beautiful," he breathed. "Every inch of you is just so beautiful, Faith."
He hooked a finger into one of the cups, pushing down, seeking, and ran the back of his nail over her nipple. She shuddered. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he did it again, eliciting the same response. Then he pulled the lace down, exposing her breast, and her back arched.
His mouth closed over her nipple and she shuddered. He wrapped an arm around her back, holding her to him as his teeth scraped her skin, followed by his tongue licking her. Through the fog of desire, she was only barely aware of his free hand working deftly behind her to undo the catch on her bra. He finally pulled it down her arms and threw it to the side.
The knowledge that they wouldn't have to stop before they were carried away this time created an intimacy that stole her breath. After all the wanting, finally being together without the barriers between their skin was almost too much to comprehend.
She pushed his open shirt over his shoulders, kissing the skin she'd exposed. The muscles of his shoulders bunched and tensed as first her lips made contact, then her tongue. The scent of his skin was intoxicating.
He fell back against the covers, taking her with him. She was still straddling his hips but now leaning her weight against his torso. She had a semblance of control, but her options for touching him were limited because most of him was either covered by her or hidden against the comforter. He, however, had full access and was taking most delicious advantage, his hands exploring her back, her sides, wherever he could reach.
Her skin was scorching, everything inside her so hot she thought she might explode into flames. And if that happened, so be it-being with Dylan would be more than worth it.
Then he rolled them over so that she was beneath him, his glorious weight pushing her into the mattress. But before she'd had a chance to appreciate the sensation fully, he moved down the bed, lifting her knee as he went. He ran his lips along the inside of her calf, stopping to press a kiss and then to bite lightly at the sensitive back of her knee. Electricity shot along her veins. His hands moved higher, capturing her skirt as he went, taking the fabric with him as his fingers skimmed over her thighs, her hips, until it bunched at her waist.
His fingers hooked under the sides of her pale pink underwear, pulling it inch by inch down her legs. Once it was removed, he covered her with one hand, applying delicious pressure, moving in patterns that were designed to take her to the brink.
Without pausing his hand, he moved back up her body to find her gaze and placed a tender, lingering kiss on her lips. "I feel as if I've wanted you forever. I can't believe you're really here."
"I can barely believe I'm here, either." Her heart squeezed tight at his expression. "It's like a dream."
"It's no dream," he said with a wicked grin. "Let me show you how real this is."
Breaking contact, he disappeared for excruciating moments before reappearing with a foil packet. He ripped it open, but before he could put the condom on, she took it from him and rolled it down his length. When it was on, she circled him with her hand and, taking her time, let herself learn his shape, his secrets. Air hissed out from between his teeth.
Abruptly, and with a pained expression on his face, he grabbed her wrists, freed himself and knelt between her legs. As he lifted her hips, she held her breath. Then he guided himself to her and filled her bit by bit until she gasped.
"Okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed.
She smiled. "More than okay."
He returned the smile and then began to move. She met each stroke, wanting to make the most of every last sensation. But as the tension inside her climbed, she forgot to move, forgot everything but Dylan above her. His rhythm was driving her slowly out of her mind. She gripped frantically at his back, trying to find purchase, but it felt as if the world was slipping away and all that remained was Dylan moving above her, within her.
Heated breaths near her ear drove her higher, his whispered words telling her she was beautiful, higher still.
His hand snaked down to where their bodies joined, and as he applied pressure with his thumb, she called out his name and exploded into a thousand little pieces, every single one of them filled with bright, shining light. He groaned, and a few strokes later he followed her over the edge before slumping his weight on top of her. She welcomed the heaviness as if it could keep her grounded here on Earth while her soul wanted to fly away.
Whispering her name, Dylan rolled to the side, taking her with him, holding her close. She nestled against his chest, feeling more safe and secure than she could ever remember.
* * *
Faith woke slowly and stretched, deep contentment filling her body, down to her bones. And before she was even fully awake, she was wary. It was the contentment that made her suspicious-she'd learned young not to trust the feeling.
The night before came back to her in snatches, then in its entirety. The sensation of Dylan's hand caressing her face, the taste of him in her mouth, the sound he'd made at the back of his throat when he'd found his release.
She'd made love with Dylan, and it had been glorious.
And dangerous.
High moments had always preceded her lowest moments, and last night had been a huge high, meaning there was a low-just as huge-coming, whether she was ready or not.
She opened her groggy eyes to the early morning light and found Dylan lying a hand span away on the thick white sheets, watching her. No chance of sneaking away or not facing the consequences of what they'd done.
"Good morning," he said. His voice was sleep-roughened and his hair rumpled, but his expression was guarded. She couldn't get a read on him.
"Good morning," she replied and gathered the sheet a little higher to reach her neck, as if that could give her a buffer between what they'd shared last night and the reality of the morning after. They'd gone too far this time and crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed. She'd slept with the boss.
He arched an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the sheet she was clutching. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?"
Memories assaulted her-of seducing him, of begging him to touch her. Even as her skin heated with desire, she recognized that this mess they were in was her fault, and she had to find a way to fix it.
"Dylan-" she began, gripping the sheet more firmly.
Before she could say anything else, he interrupted with a false smile stretched across his face. "I'll make us some coffee."
He swung his legs out from the bed, the sheet dropping away to reveal six feet of toned perfection. Her breath caught high in her throat. Dylan in the early morning light was just as impressive as Dylan in the lamplight in the middle of the night. Her hand demanded a chance to touch, but that was what had gotten her into this situation in the first place, so she resisted. Barely.
He found a pair of jeans in his closet, slipped them on and then pulled a charcoal T-shirt over his head before turning back to her.
He indicated a door to the left that she remembered from last night was the bathroom. "Feel free to use the shower or whatever you need."
"Thanks," she said, not releasing the sheet even an inch. She would have loved a shower, but more than that, she wanted to be home, safe and cocooned. Away from temptation that could ruin everything and these messy feelings that Dylan seemed to evoke in her.
After he left the room, she jumped up and grabbed her clothes from the floor where he'd dropped them after he peeled them off her. Maybe once she was dressed she'd feel more in control, though she had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't be enough.
She'd been becoming more concerned about her attachment to this man every time she saw him. But in her experience, attachments didn't last. Her family had shown her that no matter how sincere people appeared, they'd drop you like a hotcake when someone better came along. And Dylan had had a reputation as a playboy before they met.