Her hands slide down my chest, grab the hem of my T-shirt, and tug. I let go of her face to lift my arms and help her undress me. I let the T-shirt drop off the bed to the floor. Her warm hands are on my pecs, moving down, sliding over the growing bulge in my pajama pants, and I hiss, my hips lifting.
Fuck. I need her naked skin on mine right now.
Frantically, I pull on her blouse and lift it, uncovering her white bra. She pulls her blouse off all the way and leans over me again, our mouths coming together, the kiss growing deep and demanding. Our tongues clash and twine, and I cup her breasts and knead them, feeling her nipples harden under the thin fabric.
Her hair is loose, falling in waves around us, tickling my shoulders, my jaw. It smells of flowers and spring meadows. She smells like summer. Feels like summer. I smile against her lips and slide my hands around her back to unhook her bra.
She makes a sound in the back of her throat as I let it fall and replace it with my hands. I tease her nipples until she moans breathlessly. She breaks the kiss to gasp my name, and I take advantage to lick and suck on her breasts. She rocks on top of my cloth-clad erection, and my eyes all but roll back in my head with the pleasure of it.
“Shit.” I reach for her pants, try to pull them down. “Take these off.”
She sits up, rises on her knees, and pushes her pants and panties down her legs and off. I stare at her, unable to look away. So beautiful.
“Come here,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with need. My cock throbs in time to my heart, and my balls feel like rocks. “So fucking pretty. My girl.”
“Yours,” she whispers and reaches down to free my hard-on.
My hand closes over hers. Together we push down my pants and let my cock spring out, hard, heavy and so damn ready. She grips me tightly, and I groan as she guides me between her legs. The sight of her, her scent, her hold on me will never get old, I know that.
I let go of her hand as she sinks on me, slowly, enveloping me inch by inch in her heat. I fall back on the pillows, and I bite down on a cry when she takes me in all the way, my back arching off the mattress. She pulses around my cock, muscles rippling, massaging me. Holding me inside her.
Hot. Tight. Fucking incredible.
I grip her hips, thumbs smoothing over her warm, silky skin, and she begins to move. I need to move, too, thrust into her, but I’m holding back, forcing myself still so she can take her pleasure.
She rocks on me, her breath catching every time she comes down, letting my hands help her rise every time. She’s all curves and shadows, and she whispers my name as she starts clenching around me.
“Oh, fuck.” That feels fucking crazy, the way she starts coming, tightening her grip on my dick. I can’t hold back any longer. I lose control. I lift her so I can thrust into her, again and again, faster, harder.
She cries out, convulsing around my cock as my orgasm slams into me, an avalanche of sensation, a torrent of pleasure rushing from the top of my head to the tip of my dick. I let out a breathless yell, my hips rolling, drawing out the pleasure.
Sensory overload. Holy shit. The world dims.
She bends over me, panting, and I draw her down, to lie on my chest. I bury my nose in her sweet-smelling hair, put my arms around her and promise I won’t ever let her go.
Chapter Sixteen
Tessa
Sunlight pours through the window, cutting a bright square on the floor. I sit at Dylan’s beside and hold his larger hand between mine. I like watching him sleep.
The disease hit him hard. Turns out he’s had it way longer than his brother. He’s really lucky it was caught before any serious long-time effects set in.
For a while the guys and I seriously thought about taking him to the ER, as his fever wouldn’t drop. But even half-delirious, he refused to leave his brothers, and eventually the drugs worked, and the fever went away.
He looks much better now, his color high, and his skin cool to the touch. He’s recovering, and he looks more peaceful than I’ve ever seen him. Calmer. Happier.
It was yesterday he said he loves me and wants me to be his girl, to move in and be with him. The memory makes me smile, and I lift his hand, kiss his knuckles.
He makes a sleepy sound like sounds vaguely like a protest and quiets again. Still smiling, I place his hand back on the covers and get up to go. I’m ready for work, dressed in clothes borrowed from Erin this time.
The thought makes me frown.
I send Dylan one last look over my shoulder, wishing I could sit here with him until he’s fine. As I gather my purse, keys and jacket from the living room, I wish for my own underwear, my books, my tablet, my favorite earrings. My notebook, my photo albums, my favorite shoes, all left in my apartment. Like a war refugee, that’s how I’ve been living for weeks now, because I’m afraid to go back.