I toss the phone on the bed and bound across the room, snatching open the door and leaping into a stunned Xander’s arms. The bouquet of red roses he was holding drops to the carpet, and his arms encircle by back, pulling me snugly against him with a warm chuckle. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and inhale a large gulp of sin. Everything I feel for this man slams into me like a ton of bricks. It’s been a long six weeks, and he’s finally here.
“Surprise!” he says, his large hands roaming the expanse of my naked back. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Ivy. I didn’t want our first holiday as a real couple to pass with hundreds of miles between us.”
I tighten my hold on his neck and sigh. “Me either.”
“Are you gonna let me look at you?” he asks with a chuckle.
I shake my head, refusing to lift my face from his yummy smelling neck. My voice is mumbly when I reply. “Just a few more minutes.”
He chuckles, but it turns into a groan as his hands move to cup my ass. “How about I make you,” he rasps, a lone finger slipping down to glide through my wetness. “Persuasion is a powerful tool.” His finger circles before slipping inside. “That’s it, baby,” he croons as I stiffen. “Lift so I can see those pretty eyes.”
His mesmerizing voice coaxes my head up, and I meet his lusty gaze. “It’s sooo”—I trail off with a moan—"damn good … mmm … to have you here.”
His feet start moving. After only a step inside the room, he kicks the door closed and continues toward my bed. His eyes are so intent on mine that I’m unsure how he navigates the space, but he does it perfectly—just like everything else. He pauses at the foot and places me on the edge, dropping to his knees and throwing my legs across his shoulders.
It’s such a sudden move that I want to object, but his mouth is on me before I can, and now I wouldn’t dare. His lips, tongue, and fingers work like a well-oiled machine; they lick, suck, thrust, and tease me into frenzy and just when I think I might burst, he pulls back and lifts his dark, hooded eyes to mine.
“Not just yet,” he grunts. “I don’t want to ever forget your taste again.”
Even though he’s slowed his movements, his words are enough to catapult me into orgasm. His eyes widen when he realizes I’m convulsing against his fingers, but like the gentlemen he is, he jumps into action right away, tripling his efforts.
His fingers thrust.
His tongue flicks.
His mouth sucks.
And
Then
His teeth tug.
My dying orgasm reignites and fresh waves pulse through me. I can barely catch my breath before another is crashing over me. My mind is empty of everything but this man. His smell. His touch. His very essence overwhelms me in the best way.
How could I have forgotten the things he’s capable of?
How will I ever go another six weeks without him again?