Page 145 of One Night Only
“No.”
“I told you about mine.”
I shake my head, trying not to make a sound as his fingers skirt the sensitive skin of my rib cage.
“It will help,” he says.
“With your ego?”
“I want to know what you like.”
What I like? Honestly, whatdon’tI like with this man? I feel like I’m going to burst apart and he’s barely touching me.
“You can’t tell me? Can you show me?”
It’s like I forget how to breathe. Declan watches me carefully as his hands move slowly to cup my breasts.
“Sarah?” he asks when I don’t do anything. “Show me.” His thumbs brush over my nipples and just like that my resolve snaps.
I push him back against the sofa and straddle him, relieved I’m wearing a skirt as he grips my bare thighs, flexing his fingers. But it’s not enough.
I lean down, kissing him as hard as I dare.
The intensity of my need for him overrides any semblance of rational thinking. It makes me bolder as I try to entice a reaction out of him, try to make him act again like it’s not just me who feels this way, who wants it this way.
“More,” I mutter between kisses, sliding my hands under his shirt, almost groping him. He shows no sign he’s heard me.
“More,” I say and when I kiss him again, he finally,finally, takes control. One hand tangles in my hair, holding me to him as he sits up. I feel his stomach muscles contracting under my hands as he brings us both into a sitting position. His fingers drop to the hem of my blouse and I help him whip it over my head and onto the floor. We barely break the kiss for a second and then suddenly I’m in the air. A whoosh comes out of me as he stands, my body sliding down his until my toes touch the floor. I scramble to push my skirt down my legs, kicking off my sandals as he does the same, making quick work of his shoes and shirt. He flings it behind him as he pulls my nearly naked body to his, kissing me hard as we stumble backward and into his bedroom.
He pushes me down onto the bed and I reach back to get to work on my bra, but he stops me, pinning my wrists to either side of my head.
We both pause, staring at each other. My breath comes out in exaggerated gasps and the movement draws his attention to my chest before his eyes drop lower to my navel and back up again, looking at me in a way that has me squirming. I buck my hips, a not-so-subtle sign that I need him to move, and he releases me, dipping his head to lick and kiss my jaw, my cheeks, my lips. He groans into my mouth and suddenly I can feel him everywhere as he presses my body into the mattress. He rises only for a moment as he reaches over to the nightstand, opening a drawer so hard it almost falls to the floor.
I raise my neck to kiss his throat as he grabs a condom and for a moment, I’m able to catch my breath.
Somehow my bra comes off along with the last few scraps of clothing between us and finally he is mine again.
I have been with men. Many men, some might say. A healthy normal amount, other, kinder people would. I am a woman who likes sex and who isn’t afraid to seek it out.
I’ve had sex with men I’ve loved. With men I’ve liked. And with men I met a few hours before who had a nice smile and didn’t want anything more from me.
But never like this.
I’ve never felt like this.
And suddenly I’m furious. Furious I let myself settle for a pale imitation of what I’m feeling now. Furious that that was all I thought I could give; all I could take.
Neither of us is in the mood to prolong the moment, weeks of buildup and flirting and fighting meaning I finish far quicker than normal. Declan isn’t too far behind.
Afterward, he presses a long, wet kiss to my neck and lies down beside me, our arms touching, his breathing ragged. I stare up at the ceiling, still light from the fading summer’s day.
“Holy shit.”
Declan shifts beside me. “You okay?”
“Do that again.”
“I’ll need a minute.” I can hear the smile in his voice, echoing the one on my face.
