Page 68 of Tempting Irish

“Please,” I whimper, needing more than the gentle touches he’s giving me. Needing all ofhim.

Owen shifts off thebed.

Standing at the edge of the bed, he shoves his jeans and boxers down his legs, so he’s standing naked in front ofme.

His erection strains towards me, in all its glorious length, and he smirks down at me, like he knows how freaking beautiful heis.

I soak him in. Every delectable inch. Memorizing every line of his beautifulbody.

Mine, my heart criesout.

He crawls back onto the bed, his gaze never leaving my face, watching, studying,consuming.

“Ye’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs, his rich Irish brogue wrapping around me like anembrace.

He captures my mouth again. His lips are warm, demanding, and his palms slip across my wanting flesh. Dragging a finger through my wet center, I jerk towardshim.

“Fuck,” he hisses a groan, his finger plunging deep inside me, pulling a strangled cry from mythroat.

I hear the tear of plastic, feel him moving as he rolls the condom over his cock, and I shiver, an overload of sensations blazing through me, infusing every cell in my body withheat.

“Bree,” he croons against my lips, the thick head of his cock nudging against my opening. “Ye wantthis?”

More thananything.

“Yes,” Iwhisper.

He fills me with one hard thrust and I let out a smallcry.

Falling.

Drowning.

Flying.

My body stretches, a slight burn of pain as I adjust to his size. But he doesn’t give me much time before he pulls out, then plunges back in, to thehilt.

He unravels me with every touch, every thrust, every kiss. Heat blazes like an inferno across myskin.

Waves ofecstasy.

Pleasure coils inside me. My head swims in the bliss, my body riding the tide ofrevelry.

His movements are frenzied, wild. And I match him, my hands grasping, touching, memorizing every part ofhim.

He breaks our kiss, fastening his gaze on me, his gray eyes stormy with the desire that rages between us. Every caress pulls me deeper, every thrust sending me tumbling further over theedge.

“So damn beautiful,” he rasps, his fingers fisting in myhair.

Intensity rises between us. Desperate. Feral. I see it in his eyes. The connection. His lust, my love, wrapping us up, and making us one in thismoment.

I shatter beneath him, bursting into a million quiveringpieces.

“Owen,” I cry out, holding on to him as desperately as I want to hold on to thismoment.

“My God, Bree.” He says my name with reverence. Like it means something. LikeImeansomething.

With a strangled grunt, his body goes rigid. He shakes and jerks before collapsing on top of me, gulping forair.

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