Somehow we’ve arrived in my bedroom. I’m not entirely sure how; once Tynan finally, finally kissed me, my world has been nothing but his mouth, his hands. I don’t want it to be anything else ever again.
I wanted him with me in that hospital. And afterward, in my bed, while I slept away the pain and fear and exhaustion. Not for what we’re currently doing, but simply to be there. To hold me in his strong arms, which I believed for so long might be gone forever.
Telling him that is impossible though. No one can know he’s alive, so there’s no way he could be out with me even in semipublic. And he’s made it clear he’s leaving again, so being together solely for comfort isn’t happening.
I can have what he’s giving me now—and oh God, is he giving it to me—and that’s all. So I’ll scoop it up with both hands, greedy and desperate for more, more, more.
“Hey, slow down.” He laughs softly as I tear at the hem of his shirt, needing it gone so I can feel his skin against mine. “You don’t have anywhere to be.”
A deep shiver runs through me. He makes it sound like he’s going to keep me in this bed until right before I have to dash out for my meeting. And honestly, it sounds so delicious I might let him.
“I have right here to be,” I say, running my hands down his chest. He’s lean, but humming with strength, a vibration that shakes me down to my core.
“Damn straight,” he growls in a way that makes my toes curl. “I’m not letting you up for…” His hand slips under my shirt, trails up my waist. He takes a firm grip, as if I’d ever think of trying to get away. “Hours,” he finishes right in my ear.
My nipples go tight. All of me goes tight, an aching knot. Only he can undo me.
Our clothes are gone in a few moments, each of us working on the other. Somehow we don’t collide in our urgency. It’s a sign of how in tune we are. How we always were.
Tynan tips me back onto my bed, coming over me. When our bare bodies touch, I make this indescribable noise. Because it’s an indescribable feeling to finally be with him.
He kisses his way down my body, starting with the underside of my jaw, lighting up nerves I never knew existed. Nerves that are directly connected to my clit, making it plump, begging for his fingers.
“I used to fantasize about you,” I say as he licks my collarbone. My voice is husky, almost unrecognizable to me. “When I first met you. I’d lie on my bed in my room—you know the one, you’ve seen it—and I’d…”
My face heats as I remember. My clit pulses too. Me and a younger version of Tynan doing exactly what he is now.
He pauses near my navel. “Did you finger yourself while thinking about me?”
Oh God, the way he says it, so dirty, so surprised. I whimper and try to snap my legs together, but he’s between them, so I only pull him closer.
“You did.” I hear the smile in his voice, feel it against my skin. Moving lower. “I should make you show me. I’d imagine you too, those long, pretty fingers of yours wrapped around my cock, jerking me off. But I think those fingers would look even better working your clit, dipping inside your sweet pussy.”
It’s like an inferno coming out of his mouth, obliterating everything inside me except for distilled lust. I thought I might get some dirty talk, maybe something about how beautiful I am, but I was never prepared for this.
“I…” Can I even still speak English? Or can I only make feral sex noises?
He raises himself up on his arms. The set of his mouth is almost mean, and it makes something inside me twist furiously. “That’s all you have to say?”
He waits, so terrible and dark my heart feels like it could explode. This is nothing like my fantasies of him and yet so much better I feel lost inside myself. I can’t catch hold of my thoughts.
“Mmm.” It’s like the rumble of a big cat. Tynan sits back on his heels. “Go ahead then. Show me.”
I’ve never in my life been shy, and I’ve certainly done it before with other guys, but when Tynan orders me to show him, I feel seventeen again. A virgin dreaming about her father’s protégé, a man completely forbidden to her. I had to touch myself, because he never could.
My hand slips between my legs. I’m shocked at the wetness I find there. I’m going to leave a damp spot on the sheets. My knees come together, hiding what I’m about to do from the world.
Tynan shakes his head, then dips to kiss my calf. I jerk like I’ve been electrocuted. My clit swells to meet my fingers, slippery and needy.
“Don’t be ashamed.” Gently he pries my knees open, baring all of me and my naughty fingers and their work to him. “Show me. Or else I’ll make you narrate.”
The threat sends a bolt of hard lust jamming through me. I moan and twist around my hand.
“That’s right.” His gaze is fixed on my pussy like the secrets of the universe are within it. “Show me.”
I’m a grown woman, modern as hell. I know my own body. But as I stroke myself under his hot gaze, I realize there are things still to be discovered. Like how it feels to finger myself to a crashing orgasm while my fantasy man watches, urging me on with low, fevered words. He’s telling me exactly how this is making him feel, nothing held back, and I can hold nothing back myself.
As the climax rolls over me, my feet slide over the bed, scrabbling for purchase. He catches my ankles, holds me down, kisses my calves and shins as he tells me how fucking turned on he is. How gorgeous I am when I come. How he wants to make me come all night.
I reach for him, needing to touch him. To give him some of what he gave me. But he eludes me, his head dipping between my thighs.
When his mouth touches my folds, I buck. I’m too sensitive still. His next taste is gentler. His hand comes to my thigh, squeezes, as if he’s saying I can’t help myself. I have to taste you.
I can’t deny him. Not when it makes me feel like I’m flying out of my skin all over again. I didn’t think he could push me into another orgasm this fast, but he is. One that won’t be as sharp, but more sustained. A wave that will pull me out to sea and leave me there.
His mouth is glorious, his tongue wicked, but this isn’t how I need him. Not this time. “Tynan.” I make his name into a plea. “I want you with me.” My fingers find his hair, trace the line of his skull. I don’t have the strength to make him do what I want, but I can ask with my touch.
He sighs into me, soft and hot. Not quite regret, but a cousin to it. It makes me feel like a goddess.
But I’d rather be more earthly. With him.
I twist my fingers in his hair. Come up. Come inside me.
He climbs up me then, long and lean, power in the flex of him. I catch a glimpse of his cock, thick and full, more than ready for me. But when I reach to feel the silken heat of it, he dodges again.
“Condoms,” he demands. “You can drive me out of my mind with your hands and mouth next time.”
My heart trips at the idea of next time. “Side table.”
Once he has it on, he doesn’t bury his cock in me. Instead, he puts his mouth to my breast, licking the underside, teasing my nipples with his lips, his tongue, and finally his teeth. He’s tormenting me in the best way, my pussy clenching with every pass of his tongue, each sweet tug on my nipple.
I hook my knee over his hip, lift up so I can slide my wet folds over his hard length. I’m so empty, so aching, and he’s making me this way with his hands and mouth and body. And he’s the only one who can make it end.
“Patience.” But there’s a smile there, hard and triumphant. He’s reduced me to begging shamelessly, mindless in my need.
When he pushes himself up, presses forward, I see his arms tremble, strain. Now it’s my turn to smile, hard and savage, because he’s as far gone as I am, just hiding it better.
The first thrust is exactly what I need, quick and sharp and full. No hesitation now, just raw, driving desire. The next thrust shoves me two inches up the bed.
Oh my God, he’s going to fuck me right into the headboard. I plant my heels on the mattress, although I already know I’m not strong enough to resist him.
My hand lifts, reaches for the anchor of his chest. When I feel the scar, I go still. I follow it, so heavy and thick, down and down and down. Where the hell does this end?
Somewhere near his stomach it turns out.
My eyes lock with his.
“Morgan.” His tone is as stern and steely as his gaze. “Don’t even ask.”
I don’t need to, not after that. This is from the crash. He had to survive this terrible wound, all alone and on the run. Thinking the people he was closest to had tried to kill him.
My fingers can’t help but run back up it, tracing this past pain.
“Don’t.” He growls it this time.
“I won’t.” I promise it with all my heart because even though the wound is healed, I can see how tender it still is.
He waits a moment as if weighing my promise. Then he moves within me, deep, rolling, calling my body back to the moment.
He’s here and he’s alive and he’s inside me, and it’s too carnal, too gritty to be a miracle. It feels like it’s just us, where we were always meant to be.
He pumps into me like his life depends on it. I meet his every thrust with my own need, my own desperation. It’s coming, a wave of—
When we shatter, we shatter together. My pussy clenches in hard, rhythmic pulses, and he spends in an answering tempo. I am lost, gone, given up to the pleasure.
“Oh my God. My God.” I’m babbling, but I can’t stop myself. “I don’t think I can get up again. My legs won’t answer me.”
Tynan is smiling and he looks so young. So free. And sweaty and happy and well pleasured too. “I’m not done with you,” he warns. “It’s not even dark yet, and we’ve got the entire night to get through.”
Oh, I very much hope he isn’t. But I also need to be able to walk tomorrow. “I need some sleep.” My tone dips without me meaning it to. “I have to succeed. Everything is riding on tomorrow.”
He puts his hand to my face, watches me for a long moment. His eyes are so dark, so deep. Filled with strength, resolve, an endless resource if only I could tap it.
If only I could make him stay. Help me make Dad’s dream reality.
“You will.” He brushes his mouth over mine. “No other outcome is possible.”
It’s not true, but I’m comforted all the same. “You’ll be there?” Some wild, impossible hope has me asking.
He hesitates. Of course he won’t be there. Tynan marching into the middle of the board meeting, very much alive, would be like a mushroom cloud of confusion erupting. Exactly the opposite effect we’re going for even if he wanted anyone to know he’s alive.
Stupid of me to consider it, but I’m feeling very muzzy with feelings right now.
“You don’t need me there,” he says softly. “But I’ll be waiting for you afterward.”