Page 61 of Cross-Checked

“What’s going through your mind right now?” he asks, and that’s when I realize that even though I gave him the go ahead, he hasn’t moved. He’s still got one hand wrapped around my throat possessively and his lips pressed to my temple.

In the mirror, I watch the way my chest heaves, certain he can feel the thumping of my heart beneath his forearm where it’s pressed against my breast.

“Nothing,” I whisper.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Alessandra. Not when you’re standing here naked, wrapped in my arms. If you’ve got any doubts about us having sex, we’ll wait.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished. “It’s not that.”

His other hand comes from my hip to toy with the ends of my hair, the backs of his fingers moving against my breast where it lays. “What is it, then?”

How do I tell him that I’m afraid sex with him will be too good? That instead of getting it out of my system so I can stop thinking about him, it’ll make me crave him even more?

“When you said you were going to ruin me for all other men, forever? I’m afraid you might not have been exaggerating.”

His chest shakes against my shoulders with a low rumble of laughter. The timbre of his voice is a soft caress when he says, “I wasn’t exaggerating. Why? Do youplanto sleep with other men after me?”

My gaze locks on his in the mirror, breath catching as I take in the vulnerability in his eyes. “How could this ever work between us?”

Without breaking eye contact, he presses another kiss to my temple. “How could it not?”

It’s a crazy thing to say.

Isn’t it?

Because there’s no way this can work, and we both know why. But at this moment, I’m having trouble recalling all the reasons. They feel like a problem for future me to deal with, because the way his hard cock is pressing into my back and his hot breath is warming my skin, the way he’s cradled my entire body in his embrace—the only thing I feel...is safe.

This is a man who will take care of me. And after a recent injury and a lifetime of mediocre sex, I could use a man who knows how to make me feel good.

My hips arch back into his as longing ripples through my core, and I take his hand that’s toying with my hair and move it to the apex of my thighs. And when the pad of his finger ghosts over my clit, still swollen and sensitive from my last orgasm, my entire body shudders.

“Taking care of your needs feels like the bare fucking minimum, Alessandra. And if doing that ruins you, then prepare to be spoiled senseless.”

I want to ask him what he means, because this is just sex. But the way he’s dipping his finger inside me and using my cum as lubricant to slide his finger over my clit has my good hand flying to his forearm, grasping it as I press my head back into his chest and look up at him with wide eyes. How am I already turned on again this quickly?

He presses his lips to mine in a firm kiss, and then asks, “Do you want me to use a condom?”

He knows I can’t get pregnant—something no guy I’ve slept with after my ex-husband needed to know, because I never let a relationship get serious enough that I’d share that information.

“Are you positive you’re safe?”

“Yeah,” he grits out as he flexes his hips forward, his cock sliding along my lower back. “But if you’d prefer, we can use one. I’ve never not.”

My eyes search his. How is that possible? “But . . . Abby?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Sometimes condoms break. And I’ve been tested, just in case. But again, we can use one if you’re more comfortable.”

His finger is still gliding over my clit, slowly working me up, and I press my teeth into my lower lip as I try to think clearly.

“Goddamn, you’re so sexy when you bite your lip like that. You do it all the time, and it drives me fucking insane.”

Letting go of his forearm, I slide my hand between us and grip him firmly, enjoying the grunt of pleasure he lets out as I move my hand up and over the fat head of his cock. I’m honestly not sure how this thing is going to fit inside me, but I’m looking forward to finding out.

He slips two fingers inside me and says, “Or we can do it this way. I’m pretty sure I’m going to last about two seconds anyway. I’ve got a fucking decade of pent-up sexual frustration when it comes to you, and you’ve already got me so turned on I’m about to explode.”

“I want to feel you inside me.” I give him a sassy little wink as I add, “I think you promised to make me come on your cock?”

“Put your hands on the mirror.” It’s a demand, not a request.

---