Page 69 of Fighting Gravity

“Do me,” she demanded when she found her breath.

“Sounds like you want to do me,” Tate countered.

“I do,” Rosie agreed, sitting up. “I want to show you what you give me. How you make me feel.”

Sexy, raw, full, loved.

Tate stood and slowly undid his bow tie. Unbuttoned his shirt. Kicked off his shiny black shoes. Slid out of his snug pants.

He was gloriously naked and Rosie was panting again. With her gaze locked with his, she pulled him closer by his bobbing cock. The sound that came through his clenched jaw was animalistic as Rosie stroked him. Then his wild eyes met hers and he pried his jaws apart as he buried gentle hands in her hair. “Tonight has been yours since you walked into that ballroom. You own this night. You own me. So, own me.”

Rosie stood, brushing against his sculpted body. He didn’t give an inch. She trailed her fingers across his abdomen as she stepped around him. He turned with her, drawn like a magnet. Rosie kissed him as she slid her hands up his neck into his hair.

One hand traveled her bare thigh as he returned the kiss, while his other hand searched for the zipper that would free her from the stunning dress that looked like windows in a Gothic cathedral. She assisted him, stepping out of the dress nearly as nude as Tate. She kept the shoes.

With piles of fabric at their feet, Rosie moved closer. They shared breath. Shared space. Shared silent promises.

She moved first, pushing him backward onto the bench. The windows revealed dark sky beyond. She straddled his lap smiling, unable to hide her joy. They were heart to heart in every sense. She leaned her forehead on his while his hands found her hips.

“I love you,” she whispered. She impaled herself on his body and began to move. To writhe and break.

She repeated the words again and again, until she couldn’t speak for screaming.

39

Tate ran his fingers through Rosie’s fiery silk hair. He had no sense of time. It was dark in the cabin, darker outside, the stars clearly visible past the trees. Rosie was his—the only element of the night that mattered.

They’d come crashing into his cabin hours before after stopping for burgers at Dick’s in Seattle. Then he’d delivered orgasm number three, as promised, in the cold bed that didn’t stay cold for long.

And now a naked Rosie slumbered in his arms, her back against his chest. Not for a weekend, or when no one was looking. Rosie was here, with him, for good. For real.

She mumbled as she rolled onto her back. Tate smiled. Bonus round.

Repositioning himself, he trailed kisses up her stomach, past her breasts to her neck. When she opened her eyes, he saw only love. She stroked the stubble that had sprouted along his jaw. “You’re kinda cute.”

Tate chuckled. “You’re all right, too.” He dropped his mouth to her nipple, making Rosie hiss in a breath. “Will you let me love you one more time before the sun comes up?” He went back to her nipple in case she needed extra convincing.

Rosie didn’t answer with words. No, she was biting her lip too hard. She answered with her hands and her hips as she gripped Tate’s cock and guided him inside her.

Tate paused, his groan filling the room. He stared down at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “This is what I’ve wanted from the moment I met you. Us, right here. You, me, and the stars.”

Turned out, Tate could have it all.

“We might have to beg for our breakfast,” he told her several hours later. They’d both showered and changed. Rosie looked just as stunning in jeans and a thin sweatshirt as she had in the gown that was now hanging in the closet. She’d braided her hair over her shoulder, a small, personal act to witness that had Tate falling all over again.

“Where?”

“Next door at the Cases.” He brushed his fingers over her wrists. He didn’t know how she felt about Maisie and her family after the disastrous conversation at the villa. “You’ll love Jenn, and the boys might be home. I say boys, but they’re only a few years younger than you. They come home from college on weekends.”

She smiled. “I know they’re like family to you. I’d love to meet them.”

“They’re better than my family,” Tate admitted. “I chose them. They chose me.”

A pounding on the front door made them both jump. A deep voice followed the racket. “Bro, why is your fucking door locked? We know you’re in there. We heard your loud-ass Mustang in the middle of the night.”

Tate laughed. “Guess we won’t have to beg.Merde, I hope they have bacon.” He opened the door and both Maddox and Malone burst in. Both boys—men—wore sweats and tees and were barefoot. Malone, thankfully, carried a plate covered in foil.

Maddox stopped dead when he spied Rosie. “Oh, damn. Company. The beautiful kind. Explains the locked door.”

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