Commanding Her Seal (Plus Bonus Novella)(21)

Shedding clothes as fast as humanly possible, he grabbed the three nearest foil packets and tucked them into a hiding place on the couch. There was about to be a lot of movement, and he didn’t want to lose track of them.

He eased her down onto the cushions, stretching out next to her so he could gather her up in his arms. Red hair tangled around him as he settled into the angular lines of her fit body. They instantly softened to accept him, legs sliding together, and his thigh hit that honeyed spot he’d tasted moments ago.

It was heady, and he dove in with every fiber of his body trembling to inhale her. The first kiss was the sweetest as she slid her tongue across his, accepting the flavor of herself that was still fresh. Hot. He groaned, hefting her deeper against him, and then there were no words as she fisted him in her scorching hand and then notched him by the tip at her slick entrance.

She hooked a leg across his butt and pushed. So wet and ready, she swallowed him whole in one easy stroke. Rolling her hips, she pushed him deeper and he strangled over a sound that might have been a word or an homage to her perfection or nonsense because she was that affecting.

Overcome with sensation, he grabbed her face with both palms and held her mouth to his in a long kiss as the fire built on itself. Faster, their hips came together, and a haze blurred his vision, which meant he was about to explode, but he wanted to feel her come first.

But as he blindly sought that hard little nub between her legs, her own fingers were already there. She entwined hers with his and together they circled. She cried out, babbling his name. God, how hot was that, knowing that she was touching herself, giving herself pleasure?

It was nearly too much. But then her orgasm blasted down his length, detonating his, and he emptied himself for the second time into this woman’s sweet flesh.

All of his bones disintegrated. He melted, still inside her, and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her heaving breasts. And somehow that was the most intimate thing they’d done thus far in a long list.

That was a list he hadn’t expected to make. Or like.

“Worth the wait,” she whispered in his ear.

“Completely agree,” he managed to mumble back. “Let’s do it again.”

She laughed, and he felt it deep in his gut, but he didn’t pretend it was only because they were still joined. She crawled inside him, flowing effortless into spaces he hadn’t intended anyone to occupy.

“Anytime, anyplace, Charlie with no last name.”

Her voice flowed through him, convicting him of holding back from a woman who so effortlessly gave. Guilt crowded up against his warm post-orgasm glow, and that sucked.

Secrets were a part of his life. Yet he’d pried into hers. She hadn’t wanted to talk about her personal stuff—and he got why that was necessary. But she’d done it because he’d asked, all without forcing reciprocation. He should anyway. It was the right thing to do.

“St. Croix,” he said and sat up, taking her with him. “My last name is St. Croix.”

Curiously, she eyed him, her arms casually resting at her side with no shame in displaying her beautiful breasts for his viewing pleasure. “Oh, so this is our second date, I guess.”

A reference to the casual comment he’d made on the boat while parasailing, back when he’d had no idea if he’d see her again, let alone that they’d make it to a second date. He never had before.

“As in Blue Ridge, I’m assuming?” she asked.

“Yeah.” His father owned the largest communications company on the planet. The name St. Croix was as integral to cell phones as Zuckerberg was to Facebook, and it wasn’t a surprise that she’d instantly connected him with it. “Montgomery St. Croix is my father.”

Zero reaction. Not a flicker. Either she was a very good actress, or she didn’t care about the fact that Charlie was the heir apparent to a billion-dollar company. Not that he would ever touch one thin hundred of that tainted money, but she didn’t know that. Nor did he have an ounce of guilt in holding back the reasons why.

There were some secrets he’d buried deep, and they weren’t coming out to play today or any day.

Surely she understood why he didn’t throw his famous last name around, but for God knew what reason, he blurted out, “I’d rather find out a woman likes spending time with me because of me, not because she’s dazzled by the money. None of which is mine.”

And he still had the presence of mind to hear how that sounded out loud, even though it was the stone-cold truth. Money did things to women’s brains, short-circuiting them to the point where sleeping with your boyfriend’s fifty-eight-year-old father sounded like a good idea. “I’m not accusing you of that. I just—”