She took a deep breath and dismissed the ugliness of the memories. She was clean. Inside and out. And she only wanted to focus on the good—for now.
“Well, that’s not entirely true. There’s one thing I wouldn’t mind discussing.” She leaned into him, her nipples brushing over his chest as she whispered against his ear, “You told me you love me.”
“Yeah, I did.”
A warmth raced through her and settled in her newly freed heart. “Did you mean it?”
“Never been more serious about anything in my life.”
Her throat tightened, and she knew she had to give him something back. Say something. But the words were stuck inside. As though what she felt was too big, too overwhelming to express. Or, she had just as much trouble admitting her feelings as she had apologizing.
Nuzzling the curve of his throat, she gave him what she could. “Make love to me.”
“I think you should make love to me.”
“Yes. That’s a much better plan.” She kissed along his jawline to his lips, teasing the fullness of them.
“Rachel,” he whispered against her mouth.
And she heard it. The love overflowing from her name. Harvard’s love for her.
“I’m not an easy person,” she told him, leaning back to search his gaze for the honesty of his reaction. “I won’t ever be any other way.”
His hand cupped her nape, his fingers threading through her hair. “I like you fine exactly as you are.”
“That’s now.” She felt she had to give him the brutal truth. “But after a while, people tend to find their patience wears thin with me.” She wasn’t apologizing for it. She was how she was meant to be, and she liked herself just fine too. But he deserved a warning. Just the one.
His smile was wicked. “Lucky for you, I’m famous for my patience.”
“Mmm,” she said, closing the distance to his lips. “Lucky for me indeed.”
Their kiss, slow and sensual, was full of things Rachel might never be able to voice. But she could tell him with her lips, her body, her desire.
Slowly, thoroughly, she kissed her way from his lips, down his throat, and across his chest. She slid out of his lap and knelt on the floor between his knees. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she took her time unbuttoning his jeans.
“You’re beautiful,” he told her, sounding awed.
He was the beautiful one. Inside and out. “Lift your hips.”
It took seconds to remove his jeans and find he wore nothing underneath. She ran her hands up his solid thighs to the proud erection waiting for her. Tracing the thick vein that ran from the base to the head, she looked up at him.
“I was sure I didn’t want this relationship,” she confessed.
He sifted her hair through his fingers. “And now?”
“I never want it to end.” She leaned forward and took him in her mouth, reveling in the gasp her touch elicited. Feeling deep satisfaction in the way his hand tightened in her hair and his thighs clenched around her shoulders.
As she loved him with her mouth, enjoying his musky taste and scent, her eyes drifted up to his face, only to find him watching her intently.
“Come back up here, Rachel,” he purred her name. “If you keep doing that, I won’t last. And I want to be inside you. I want us to be connected.”
She moaned around his thick width. Yes, she wanted to feel connected too. But she also wanted to keep him where he was—at her mercy.
“Rachel,” he rumbled as he gently tugged at her hair. “I want to touch you. Come up here so I can make you feel good.”
Shivering at the promise in his voice, she reluctantly released him. As soon as she freed him from her mouth, strong hands slid under her arms, and he lifted her back onto his lap. Her knees slipped into the space either side of him, between his hips and the chair, and she felt his hard length slide through her eager wetness.
With a gasp, she tried to get her hand between them, to guide him into her, but Harvard had other ideas. Using his strength, he kept her on her knees while lavishing attention on her breasts.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned, clasping his head to her.
The room spun around her as his lips teased, nibbled, and sucked. Each delicious sensation shot through her body like a pinball in a machine, hitting all the best spots and ringing bells.
Panting, she tried to lower her hips and slide onto him, but he held her tight. A firm, steady hand moved down the length of her back and over her behind before cupping and kneading. She arched her body, pressing her rear into his hold.
“Yeah, push out some more, just like that,” he said before engulfing a nipple in the heat of his mouth.
Rachel did as she was told and felt his hand slide down between her cheeks and lower to her aching wet core. Wicked fingers petted and teased, making her moan and beg and gasp in desperation. “Please, please, please…” she wailed, clutching him to her, straining against his tight grip as he kept her hovering above him. She’d never begged a man in her life. Not for something she wanted so desperately. She’d always seen it as weakness.
But Harvard was different. It wasn’t a game he played with her. This was no battle of egos. He wasn’t trying to prove anything by holding her on the edge of release. This was all about pleasure and trust and…love.
His merciless fingers teased her clit, dancing around it in ever-decreasing circles until he reached the very center and pressed. Her back bowed. Her muscles clenched. A long wail resounded through the room. Inside her head, lights flashed and danced in rhythmic explosions. And just as it began to ease, she felt him grip her hips and lower her onto his waiting length.
“So good,” she cried out as he slowly filled her. He lowered her until she was sitting flush with him and they were completely joined.
“Connected,” he said as he brushed kisses across her cheeks.
Rachel soared, flying high above them. Tethered only by the sensations rippling through her body. All she could feel, see, taste was him. His scent engulfed her, drugging her senses, leaving her desperate for more.
“Ride me, Rachel,” came the gruff order as his hands moved her hips in a rhythm that pleased them both.
Once she started moving, she couldn’t stop. Feeling the delicious stretch and rub as he filled her up, teasing nerves that only he could reach, giving pleasure only he could give.
Touching him was an addiction. One that made possessiveness rear its head and roar. “This body is mine,” she declared, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
“And is this body mine?” His strong hands lifted her hips before slamming her down onto him again.
“Yes,” she screamed. “Yes, it’s yours.”
He clasped her nape. “Then give me all of it.” And covered his mouth with hers.
Their kiss was desperate, hungry, and lacking in finesse. But Rachel didn’t care. All she could think about, all she wanted, was all of him. She moved faster, grinding her hips into his, gasping her pleasure into his mouth. Swallowing his sounds of need in return.
His arm tightened around her as she climbed again. Her limbs were weak, her movements uncoordinated, as thoughts fled and sensation took over. Giddy, she spun around inside her mind, trusting him to keep her safe.
His hips surged, pushing himself deeper. Once. Twice. Three times and they exploded together. His body tensed, his muscles clenched beneath her, around her, inside of her as they fell over the precipice, safe in each other’s arms.