Page 120 of Unfaithful

"Is this really happening?" he asked, almost as if he couldn't believe it.

I smiled, even as my pulse thrummed. "Yeah... I wondered that myself."

He bit his bottom lip, trying to hide a grin. And damn, it was so gorgeous I had to fight the urge to climb him right then and there, crushing him with my weight.

Shedding his jacket, he tossed it aside without care. I watched him, mesmerized, as I rose to my knees and reached for my top, lifting it over my head. But the way his eyes followed my every movement—so dark, so ravenous—made me freeze, momentarily forgetting what I was doing.

Still holding my gaze, he reached behind his head, gripping the fabric of his shirt, and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion, revealing a sculpted chest, chiseled abs, and tattoos etched across his smooth skin. Then he paused, waiting. The look on his face sent a simple message—your turn.

Swallowing hard, I snapped out of my trance and quickly shimmied out of my pants.

With the confidence of a man who knew exactly how to tease, he slowly popped open the button on his jeans, then dragged the zipper down, revealing the dark fabric of his underwear beneath.

My turn. I reached behind me, unhooked my bra, and let it slip down my arms before tossing it aside.

Then, without thinking, both my hands lifted to cup my breasts.

His breath hitched. His lips parted. His pupils were wide, dark, drowning in need.

That was it.

Shame burned at my lack of self-control, but I couldn't hold back anymore. "This is taking too long, Archie..."

He chuckled darkly before lunging at me. The speed at which we tore off the rest of our clothes deserved a damn medal. I wanted to see him—every inch of him—but the desperate insistence of his hands roaming my body was so overwhelming that I couldn't even react. I was utterly boneless, surrendering tohim and the pleasure he unleashed. The helpless moans spilling from my lips only made his smirk deepen in satisfaction.

His hands were everywhere. His mouth was everywhere—kissing, licking, biting—never pausing, never relenting. And then, abruptly, he cursed.

"Fuck, I don't have a condom."

In a flash, he slid off the bed, grabbed the hotel phone from the side table, and barked an order for a box to be delivered to the room. When he returned, his gaze was molten with intent.

He resumed his assault on my senses, exploring every dip and curve of my body, discovering where he could ignite pleasure and where he could drive me absolutely wild. His mouth and hands claimed every inch of me. My fingers roamed over his shoulders and chest, savoring the heat of his skin beneath my touch. His every move was confident. His kiss was possessive, reverent, an unspoken vow, a seal of promise to both of us. I was his, and he was mine. And I reveled in it, surrendering to his touch, his devotion, the pure, dizzying pleasure.

He mumbled against the side of my breast, "While we wait, I'm going to eat you."

"Oh, my God," I breathed.

I watched as he slid down slowly, his lustful eyes locked onto mine. My breath hitched, anticipation coiling tight in my chest. He lifted both my legs and draped them over his shoulders.

And then I felt it. I gasped loudly. One slow swipe and a surge of pleasure shot through me. I was already on the edge, more turned on than ever. He kept teasing, taunting, his touchrelentless. And when a long, breathy moan escaped my throat, I felt his lips twitch in satisfaction.

I whispered his name over and over, and when the climax hit, it stole my breath from my lungs. My eyes slammed shut as a breathless cry escaped me, every sense consumed by the overwhelming pleasure, and nothing else existed but him and the bliss he unleashed within me.

"It's here," I heard him say, his voice distant through the haze of my daze. Then I felt his warmth leave me as he hastily pulled on his boxers and, despite the bed being out of sight from the door, draped the comforter over me as if shielding me from the world.

I didn't even realize when he returned, my senses were still slowly piecing themselves back together. By the time I did, he was already naked again, his body pressed flush against mine as he gently parted my legs.

Then he whispered, "I love you, Peaches. For eternity."

And with that, he kissed me—deep and consuming—and I unraveled, surrendering completely. His lips never left mine as he slid inside me, filling me inch by inch, and I held my breath, taking a moment to adjust to the fullness of him inside me. When he was finally buried to the hilt, stretching me so deep I could feel him in my belly, I rolled my eyes back, digging my nails into his skin. Our destiny brought us to this moment, binding us together completely. He owned me as much as I owned him. Loving his heart, claiming his soul.

He moved—faster, harder—and I met him with equal intensity. I whimpered, squirmed, panted, lost in the feverish rhythm of us. We were flesh to flesh, molding into one, body and soul entwined in a dizzying, intoxicating dance.

And when we finally tumbled over the edge together, it was mind-blowing—shattering, melting our bones, stealing every breath.

It was nothing short of perfection.

I tried to speak through the pleasure between breathless kisses. My voice trembled, but it came from the very depth of my heart, of everything I felt, of the certainty that this was forever.

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