Page 66 of Doing It for Love

“No rules broken?”

“Right.”

We stare at each other for exactly point five seconds before our bodies crash in the center of the room, fingers tearing and grappling at these stupid clothes. Our lips hit each other, miss each other, are practically all over each other, and he lets out a loud growl, snapping his hand around my jaw and holding me still.

Stroke one of his tongue makes me shiver.

Stroke two has my knees buckling.

Strokes three, four, five, and I’m moaning as Lady Liz tightens and heats and pulses. I rip his belt from his belt loops, wishing I could do it in one easy motion. But it gets stuck, and I jerk, and jerk, and jerk, till the damn thing pops loose.

“Bed. Now!” I scream at him in my new relationship sex voice. It’s back. I haven’t sounded like that inforever. He grins and hoists me by the middle, swinging me over his shoulder while giddy giggles rumble my lips. I almost sing “Here I Come to Chocolateville” out loud.

His zipper is the next thing to go once he flings me on the mattress. Lord Landon pops free, and I flick my eyes up to his face.

“How do you want it?”

“Huh?” he grunts. Better keep talking to a minimum—seems like his brain has already gone straight down.

“Um…” I point to my hand. “Or…” Then I gesture to my mouth. His eyes widen a bit and he lifts a shoulder.

“I—I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

“I’ll do whateveryouwant.”

He leans down, cups my face, and gently coaxes me to my back while his weight settles. I have missed this position.

“Well, I kinda want to do you first. Because if you go second, it’ll get me all riled up again, and we only get once, right?”

A whole bunch of reasons why once is totally ridiculous zip through my mind like they’re on a roller coaster. But I say, “Right.” If I give way too much, I’ll give in completely, and no tropical paradise sex for me.

He bends, kissing me sweetly on the lips. “Then what do you want?”

I breathe out as his mouth travels down the length of my neck. He kisses my cleavage, hands smoothing up the hem of my shirt.

“I…I don’t…Um, I don’t care.” I can’t even think. My legs are pressed together so tight I could crush a walnut.

His mouth leaves, but only to get my shirt off. My bra is in the same sweep. He usually spends time up top before going to my bottoms, but either he’s too impatient or he thinks I’ll suddenly change my mind—no way—because my yoga pants are off in the next second. When he has me completely naked, a relaxed smile hits his lips. He falls on top of me, making me squeak out an “oof!”

His hands hold tight to my shoulders before they roam down my sides, thumbs getting naughty with my breasts, and his lips press patterns all over my neck.

“I’ve missed your body,” he says.

“Really?” I ask, and he leans up, eyebrows slightly bunched in confusion. I get it. I’ve never questioned his attraction to me before. We tease and flirt and make fun of each other in bed. That’s us and it’s comfortable. But right now, after today, I’m wondering if he notices the extra pounds.

I sniff. My voice and nose have suddenly gone stuffy. “I…I couldn’t fit into my wedding dress.”

He hovers unmoving over me, and a small laugh seeps from my mouth as I watch him struggle with what to say.

“Sorry…I’m just trying to…” He kisses me, squeezes my hip. “You’re not fat.”

“Well, thanks.”

“I figured I was safe saying that.”

“They have to take the dress out…and it’s expensive. Like, out of the budget expensive.”

He takes in a breath, lets it out before planting kisses on the tops of my breasts. My skin puckers with goose bumps.

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