Page 101 of Can't Get Enough

He pushes in.

He used the word “worship,” and that’s exactly how it feels when he comes inside, like my body is a tabernacle and he’s awed by the privilege of entering. Pleasure explodes from a hidden part of me no one else has ever discovered. With his patience and care, Maverick tunnels through my defenses and excuses, clearing a passageway to my heart with every kiss and each touch. I’m not saying it’s love. It’s too soon for that, but it’s… something I didn’t think existed.

The rhythm of his breathing roughens the longer he fucks me. The erratic non-pattern of pants and moans every touch draws from me. He grabs my throat and holds my eyes, pounding into me. The bed rocks, knocking my nightstand, and the lamp rattles from the force of it. I swear the walls tremble when I come. And the boundary I’ve always maintained with every other lover begins to fissure, webbing and widening until it cracks. Until it collapses, surrenders to the tenderness in his eyes and the urgency of his hands.

It falls.

And, dammit to hell, so do I.

CHAPTER 31

HENDRIX

Morning, Gorgeous.”

I pry my eyes open to find Maverick beside me in bed, propped on one elbow and leaning over me wearing nothing but a cocky grin and a pair of boxers.

I peruse the sculpted wonder of this man’s body. He’s sun-bronzed brown, corded with muscle, striped with sinew, dusted with just the right amount of hair in the places I like, and little to none in the places I don’t. I’ve never obsessed over a man’s chest, but his pecs have me kind of riveted.

“I feel very objectified right now.” Maverick laughs. “Don’t mind me trying to hold an actual conversation while you ogle me from head to toe.”

I force my eyes above his neck to meet his amused stare.

“I was just thinking it’s a shame I didn’t get to fully explore all this,” I say, gesturing up and down his long body. “Since last night was the last time we’ll ever have sex.”

His smile drops and his brows jerk together.

“What the hell, Hen? If you’re having regrets, we can talk about—”

“Oh, my God! Your face! I’m joking.” Laughing, I drag myself up to rest my shoulders against the headboard, tugging the sheets up over my breasts. “But I get it. My pussy has that effect on people.”

He leans forward to cup my jaw. “I don’t want to hear about the effect you have on anyone but me.”

I lift my brows and let out a throaty chuckle. “So this is happening againandit’s exclusive?”

He pulls himself up to sit beside me, his shoulders against the headboard and pressed into mine. He threads our fingers together to rest on the sheet in my lap. He kisses my knuckle, eyes fixed on mine.

“I guess I assumed… if you felt any of what I did last night… Shit.” He runs a hand over the back of his neck, the uncertainty on his face out of step with his usual self-assurance. “I’m not doing a good job of this, and you’re right. I can’t assume anything, so I’m saying to you very clearly I want to make love to you as many times as humanly possible. I only want to do it with you and I would appreciate it if you would consider only doing it with me.”

My heart melts around the edges. This supremely confident man, who has achieved more in forty years than most will in a lifetime, humbling himself this way humblesme.

And that is no mean feat.

“I’d like that, too. Both of those things, but,” I say, holding up a hand before we skip past some important steps, “we have to tell Zere.”

We stare at each other and the implications of what we’ve done suck some of the air from the room.

“Do you want me to talk to her?” he asks. “Do you want to? Should we do it together?”

“Not together. I think I should talk to her alone first, but let me think about it some.”

He nods, leans in, and drops a kiss on my lips. Splaying one big hand over my throat, he moves to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into my mouth. He tastes minty. I do not.

I pull back and ask, “You found the spare toothbrush?”

“Yup.”

When I stretch the sheet falls around my waist, and he’s looking at my breasts like they’re drenched in syrup and butter. “Now who’s ogling?”

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