Her Last Goodbye (Morgan Dane Book 2)(95)

Yes.

Definitely yes.

Breathless, he lifted his mouth from hers. “As much as the thought of making love to you on my piano is hot, the actual orchestration eludes me.”

She laughed against his mouth. “We would probably wreak havoc on the keys.”

“It would be worth it. I can get a new piano. But as it’s our first time, I’d rather have some room to do my best work. I’ll only get one chance to make a first impression.”

“Wow. No pressure, right?” A sudden burst of nerves shook her. It had been so long for her. She splayed a hand over his heart, taking comfort in the steady thud of it under her palm. “I haven’t had sex in years. I hope it’s like riding a bike.”

“I hope it’s nothing like riding a bike.” His brows shot up with mock indignation. “I want to rock your world.”

“OK, then.” She slid off his lap. She’d seen Lance almost every day for months. Her sudden shyness was unexpected.

Smiling, he stood and offered her his hand. “Trust me.”

“I do.” She took it and let him lead her to his bedroom. Standing next to his bed, he turned her to face him. He switched on the nightstand lamp. The glow was soft, just enough to see the intensity of desire in his eyes.

A flush heated her skin.

She stepped forward, crushing her body to his, feeling his warmth everywhere she was cold. His mouth roamed from her lips down her neck and to her shoulder without coming up for air, as if he couldn’t taste enough of her.

Leaning back, she grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, pulled it over his head, and tossed it aside. His body was thick and powerful, with heavy ridges of well-defined muscles on top of muscles. His sweatpants rode low, exposing an impressive V of lower abdominal muscles.

She wanted to run her hands over every inch of him. “Can I touch you?”

He made a choking sound and then cleared his throat. “You can do anything you want.”

For once, she let impulse have its way like a teenager after prom.

She reached out a hand and placed it on his hip, running her fingertips over his abs. His skin was smooth and warm, solid under her fingers. His body vibrated as she stroked her way to his broad chest, and she reveled in the sheer masculinity of him.

Then he moved.

His hands were on her biceps, sliding up to her shoulders, cupping her face and stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs. His mouth came down on hers. No hesitation this time. The kiss was all hunger and need and months’ worth of pent-up desire.

Pulling his mouth from hers, he lifted the hem of her shirt and drew it off her body. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the sweatpants and dragged them down her legs. Then he leaned back and took a good, long look, licking his lips in anticipation. “You’re perfect.”

He backed her against the bed and eased her onto it, stretching his body out alongside hers. His lips roamed from her neck, down her collarbone, and across the tops of her breasts. Every touch of his mouth, every stroke of his fingertips, stoked her need higher.

He lifted his head, watching her with intimidating concentration as he slid a hand between her legs. Her body arched under his touch, and he smiled, obviously pleased by her response.

“That’s it,” she said.

When she reached for him, he pulled his hips out of her reach. “Ladies first.”

Tension built inside her, spiraling higher and higher, until she writhed.

“Now,” she gasped. She’d been waiting for what seemed like forever for this moment.

“But you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her face. “I could watch you all night.”

But Morgan couldn’t wait another second. Her body and her soul wanted to be part of him. This man who had turned her life around. He’d shown her she could be happy again.

That she could live instead of simply existing.

She reached for him again, her hand trembling with need. This time he didn’t resist. Her fingers closed around him, and his eyes practically rolled back in his head.

“Now,” she said in a firmer voice.

His chest shook with a low chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”

His confidence settled her nerves, and she clung to him.

He reached for the nightstand, opening the drawer and removing a condom. After sheathing himself, he slid on top of her, nestling between her thighs. His hands cradled her face, framing it, and his gaze studied her, as if he was deliberately preserving this moment in his memory.

He slid inside her, filling her body and soul. Fully seated, he froze and stared down at her. The connection between them seemed to transcend time for a few seconds.

“I’d love to stay like this forever.” Sweat broke out on his forehead. “But I can’t.”