Bidding on Her Boss(17)

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.