Page 59 of Give You Up

Brunch? I’m starving, but my head is not on the food.

“We did it.”

“Hell yeah, we did. Best sex of my life.”

“This is a dream.” I pinch myself. “The aftermath of a dream.” I pinch harder. “I’m dreaming in my dream.”

Masculine laughter. My attention swings back to Taron. His dark eyes gleam.

“Syn, babe, you are sexy when you panic.” He sets the tray on the bed and picks a grape off the vine, rolling the green ball between his fingers. His eyes hanging on my breasts, he pops a grape in his mouth and moans.

I bunch the covers in my hands, freaked out of my mind I’ll start tweaking my nipples and beg him to suck on them again. Or worse, sliding my hand between my legs and touching myself while watching him pop more grapes in his mouth, Taron moaning as though they are the best things he’s tasted since chocolate was discovered.

“Syn.”

Gravelly. Low. Seductive. The place between my legs throbs anew. My face heats. Taron hunches over the foot of the bed with his hands planted on the mattress. He is ready to pounce, and God forbid if he takes too long. I am ready to collar him around his neck, shove his head between my thighs, and demand he lick me until I come apart from the force of my climax. Instead, I remember I have a brain and come to my senses.

I stick out my hand. “Don’t you dare get any closer until we talk through what happened. And panic is an understatement. I’mmortified, Taron.”

I throw off the covers, and balanced on my knees and my hand, I point a finger at him.

“We had sex and you weren’t wearing a condom. For the love of all that is holy, you have partners in the high double digits!”

“I gloved up every time.”

“Not with me you didn’t.”

“My one exception. Anyway, I get tested regularly.”

“When was the last time?”

“After I saw you at Bayside.”

“And sex? When was the last time?”

Lopsided grin. “You and me in the wee hours of the morning.” He pops another grape in his mouth. Moans.

I will not be distracted.

I will not think of his mouth wrapped around my nipples.

Or how my toes curled every time he sucked on the little balls.

“Aside from me, how long ago?” I ask, out of breath from the vivid images of his mouth and his hands all over my body. And his cock? God, he filled me full. Made me feel so special with how tenderly he took care of me afterward. Safe, too, wrapped up in his arms.

“Tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

He waggles his brows. This guy. I hurl a pillow at him. He ducks, and it sails past his head.

“Eight months ago.”

“Damn, you got me beat, Pixie Dust. Six for me.”

“Weeks or months?”

“Do you have to ask?”

“Yes.” I climb off the bed and stand with my hands on my hips. “Yes, I do. You are prolific.”

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