Page 209 of Dagger in the Sea

He leaned over me, one hand planted in the mattress. “You ready for me, Grace?” he breathed. I tilted up my chin.

I was beyond ready.

He positioned himself and drove inside me. My body arched off the bed. My hands gripped his arms as I struggled to adjust to his thickness filling me, stretching me. I raised my hips to take him in further.

I wanted all of this, all of him, needed him like oxygen, like water.

“Shit, you feel good.” Miller let out a groan and hooked one of my legs around his hip. He rocked deeper inside me, and my eyes flew open. My fingers rubbed into the base of his skull as we moved together and against each other quicker and harder. The glorious wave actually built inside me again.

“Grace—you got it?” he asked. “I’m not going to last much longer. You’re making me fucking crazy.”

How considerate of him to communicate.

I had learned how to be self-sufficient. There hadn’t been much real communication with the men I had slept with over the years, just a lot of show on their part. I ground up into Miller and chased my peak. I tightened my inner muscles around him and circled my hips. His mouth hung open, his forehead furrowed with the strain. Then his gaze darted down my body. His hand dug into my hip, his teeth sank into my shoulder.

Miller stroked faster, over and over. The only thing left was to succumb to that rolling storm of sensation. It finally burst and crashed over me. My fingers dug into his back, and I released myself into that sweet, crazy haze. His grip on me tightened, his body suddenly stiffened. I held my breath as he jolted into me. He buried his face in my neck where he muffled a string of curses. Our bodies were veiled in a sheen of sweat. He raised his head, his eyes were fierce. His mouth crushed mine, and I hooked both my legs around his, my fingers raking through his short hair.

Miller’s hand slid down my damp skin, stopping at my hip. “Babe, you are some kind of hungry,” he said, his breathing shallow.

“Oh?” My nerve endings still vibrated with electricity. “You were pretty enthusiastic yourself.”

“You fired me up.” His fingers teased one of my nipples. “Has it been a while?”

Was I that obvious?

“Yes.”

“How long is a while?” His voice was gentle.

“Does it matter?” I closed my eyes against the tingles his fingers created.

“Tell me.” He pressed his pelvis against mine. I squirmed at the sweet pressure. My hands slid over his smooth contoured chest barely visible in the glow of light. Disappointment crept over me that I couldn’t see that tattoo. “Grace?”

“A year. . . or so.”

“Or so?” His eyes flashed through the shadows, his lips brushed mine.

“Hmm.” My body shifted underneath his, but he didn’t unpin his formidable weight from me.

“Why, babe? You’re beautiful, you’re. . .”

I put my fingers to his lips. “Needed a vacation from the bullshit, that’s all.” I didn’t want to continue in this line of conversation. His lips sucked my fingertips into his mouth, and my defensiveness melted into a puddle at his feet.

“There is plenty of bullshit out there.” He let out a sigh. “Plenty.” His tongue traced a wet trail around my nipple as his fingers caressed my other breast.

“It’s just not worth it most of the time,” I whispered. My gaze was riveted on his mouth taking in my aching breast and sucking on it. My body tightened and released to him all in one wave.

“But you took a chance on me?” The edges of his lips curled against my delicate skin.

“Yeah.” My fingers burrowed into his crop of very short hair.

“Was I worth it?” Miller rubbed my wet, aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then pinched it. I gasped, and my foot dug into his rear. “Did I make up for what you’ve been missing?”

I lightly kicked at the firm muscles of his sublime ass and smirked. “You made a dent.”

His eyes narrowed over me as his thumb grazed my swollen lips. He didn’t laugh, smirk back at me, or return with a clever comeback. He didn’t take the bait. My ribbing, my jokes to distract and deflect from any kind of serious inquiry into me didn’t seem to work with Mr. Miller, like it always had with other men. He remained still and studied my face, his warm fingers stretched out over my throat and around my neck, my heart thrumming at his touch. We studied each other in silence, our shallow breaths mingling.

“I’m honored,” he whispered.

---