Page 91 of Careless Whisper

“For what?” she asked, looking up at me.

“For letting me see what I never let myself imagine before.”

She looked at me, her expression serious. “You want to thank me?”

“Yes,” I replied sincerely.

“Well, Dr. Graham”—her eyes danced with mischief—"I’d like for you to pay up in orgasms.”

The second my apartment door clicked shut, I had her against the wall.

We’d been all over each other the whole way up—three flights of stairs, and neither of us was out of breath because of theclimb. Her breath was rising fast, lips parted, eyes locked on mine like she was daring me to keep pretending I could take this slow.

I stepped in close, hands on her hips, gripping tighter than I meant to. She didn’t flinch. Just leaned into it.

“Eli,” she breathed out—barely a word, more like a challenge.

I kissed her hard. Not the gentle kind, not the kind with questions.

Her hands were in my hair, under my shirt, tugging me closer, like she wanted me inside her already. And I wanted the same.

I got my shirt off, and she didn’t waste time. Her fingers were on my chest, tracing over skin like she was relearning it. I grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head, letting her feel the weight of me. She arched up, pressed tight against me, nipples peeking through that dress that was hanging on by a thread.

“Fuck, Gigi,” I muttered, my voice rough.

Her dress came off. Black lace panties underneath, soaked through. I dropped to my knees, hooked my fingers into the waistband, and dragged them down.

She was already shaking.

I didn’t hesitate. My mouth was on her before she could think, before I could. She tasted better than I remembered. And I remembered too damn well.

She moaned my name, one hand in my hair, the other gripping the wall. I flicked my tongue over her clit until her knees gave out. I caught her, held her through it, until she was panting into my shoulder.

Then I stood, kissed her slow this time, and asked, “Bed?”

She nodded breathlessly.

We didn’t say anything else. I pulled her into the bedroom, stripped the rest of the way, and watched her eyes go dark with want.

When I slid inside her, everything else dropped away. She clenched around me so tight it stole the breath from my lungs.

“Jesus, Gigi,” I groaned.

She wrapped her legs around me, urging me deeper.

I found a rhythm. Fast. Hard.Us. It clearly said we’d been apart too long, and I wasn’t letting go this time.

Her nails dragged down my back. Her breath hitched in my ear. I felt her come—tight and shaking beneath me—and I didn’t stop. I chased mine until I hit it hard, hips stuttering as I emptied inside her.

Afterward, I lay on my back, catching my breath, her heartbeat echoing against me.

“That’s two,” I said quietly.

She chuckled, breathless. “Two thank yous.”

“Yep.” After all she had said she wanted to be thanked in orgasms.

She laughed airily, happy, whole, content. “We’re not keeping score, Eli.”

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