“Oh fuck,” he rasped, ducking his head against the crook of her neck. “Oh fuck, sunshine. You’re so tight and hot and wet and good. You’re so good. Always so good.”
She arched in pleasure at the words as much as the feel of him inside her.
“That’s right. That’s so good.” He pulled up slightly and grabbed her right thigh, pulling it up his body so her leg was higher. “Wrap your legs around me. We’re going to make this so good.”
She did as he said, whimpering again as the move deepened the penetration and made it even better.
When she managed to hook her heels, he moaned against the side of her neck. “That’s so good, sunshine. Just like that. Hold on to me tight. I’m gonna make you come so hard.”
“Yes. Yes please.” She tossed her head back and forth against the pillow. “I need you so bad, Robert. Please.”
He lifted his head so he could kiss her, and as he did, he made a slow, deep thrust. Out and in.
He started that way. Slow and deep and torturously good, stimulating all her nerve endings as he matched the motion of his tongue with his thrusts. She clung to him with her arms and legs, making a lot of embarrassing, helpless sounds as an orgasm built at her center.
It went on a long time. So long she wasn’t sure she could handle the pleasing torment of it. Eventually she had to pull out of the kiss so she could sob and beg for him to give her more.
He did. He accelerated the rocking of his hips, moving faster and more shallowly and hard enough now to shake the bed. She cried out from the pleasure of it, eagerly riding him from below as their motion intensified.
By the time her orgasm reached the edge, she was sobbing way too loud for a predawn hour in a hotel, but she couldn’t hold anything back. It felt like she was giving him everything. She came just as hard as he promised, her whole body convulsing with waves of pleasure.
He didn’t stop taking her even then. He kept up his hard thrusts, grunting now like an animal on each instroke.
She clawed lines on the back of his neck as she came again before she knew to expect it. And then again, like her body was perfectly primed by him and didn’t know how to stop.
She was hoarse and sore and still tingling with pleasure as she finally whispered, “You come too. I want you to come now too. Please, Robert.”
His face twisted, and his eyes flared. He jerked against her with a long, raspy moan as she watched him build up toward climax and finally let go. The wash of complete satisfaction on his face was like nothing she’d ever seen before.
She loved it.
All of it.
And she loved as he came inside her with a series of short spurts.
He collapsed on top of her when he’d worked through everything, and she held him tightly with her arms and her legs. Everything was sore. Everything felt amazing.
They lay tangled together, hot and sweating and shaking with a few lingering aftershocks, for a long time.
Until a random thought hit her. She gasped and stiffened. “Your wrist!”
“What?” He lifted his head and blinked at her, groggy and flushed and rumpled as hell.
“Your wrist. Your sprained wrist. Did you hurt it just now? I didn’t even think of it, and you probably ended up hurting yourself even more.”
“Oh. No. No. It’s fine. I put my weight on my other hand. It’s fine.”
She relaxed. They stared at each other for just a minute, and she giggled from the sheer joy of what had happened.
He smiled back. Nothing dry or ironic or guarded about it. Nothing but a real smile.
Strangely, that moment might have been the very best part of the morning.
THEY ENDED UP DOZING off again and sleeping for a couple of hours. When Amanda woke up the next time, the room was light and her cheek was pressed tightly against Robert’s chest.
His skin was rough against hers. His body was as hot as an oven. One of his arms was wrapped around her, holding her snugly against his side.
It wasn’t a bad position to be in.
She tried not to move, not wanting to wake him up or change positions. His breathing was deep and even.
Never in her life would she have imagined Robert Castleman would be holding her like this. In his sleep. That she’d be cuddled against him and like it.
That she wouldn’t want it to end.
But she could feel his heart beating in his chest, and it made her feel strangely protective. Possessive. Like he was hers to take care of, and the beating of his heart beneath her ear proved that somehow.
Maybe she was rattled by the car accident yesterday and not enough sleep, but she couldn’t fight the feeling. Didn’t even want to.
When she had an itch on her back, she shifted slightly, trying to scratch it without moving too dramatically and waking him up.
It didn’t work, so she tried again, attempting to move against his arm in a way that got to the itch.
“What are these strange contortions you go through first thing in the morning?” Robert’s dry voice broke the silence. He sounded clear. Articulate. Fully awake.
“I thought you were asleep!”
“So you decided wiggling against me like that in my sleep was an appropriate behavior?”
She giggled at his tone. “I had an itch on my back and was trying not to wake you up.”
“I was already awake.”
“Oh. Well, I didn’t know that.” She raised her head to check his expression. He looked even more rumpled than he had last night—his hair a mess and thick stubble on his jaw—but his eyes were alert. Not groggy at all. “You’ve been awake all this time?”
“All what time? I haven’t been awake all morning. I went back to sleep just after you.”
“Oh, I know. I meant you’ve been awake all the time I’ve been awake just now.”
“Yes. I figured you were trying to doze again, so I didn’t say anything.”
“That was very nice of you.” Her back still itched, so she made a face as she reached around to scratch it.
She couldn’t get to the spot very well, but Robert reached over and ran his fingernails up and down at her right shoulder blade. “Here?”
“A little lower. Yes, there! Thank you.” She gave an exaggerated groan as he scratched. Then she flopped down on top of him again. “I’ve got to get up and going soon, and I don’t want to.”
“Why do you have to get going? The wedding isn’t until two.”
“I know. But Michelle has hired a stylist to do our hair and makeup. That’s at ten thirty. And I need to shower and wash and dry my hair before then so I’m ready to be made beautiful.”
“You’re already beautiful.” He stroked her hair back from her face very gently.
She snorted. “And you’re full of crap. My hair is a mess. I’ve got bruises all over from the accident. And these pajamas are not the most flattering outfit in the history of the world, you know.”
“What the hell does any of that matter? You’re beautiful anyway.”
Her cheeks warmed, but she made a face at him for good measure.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked with a little smile. “Then see how fast it takes me to get hard again. I’m not a teenager anymore. It doesn’t happen at the drop of a hat with me. But with you, looking like you do right now...”