THERE WAS THUNDER and some sort of shattering explosion, but Devon didn’t care. All she wanted was to stay here in bed, over Chance, under Chance, submerged in mindless bliss.
Her nails raked over his back, his sculpted ass. Her mind knew her house was going to collapse, but she needed this. She deserved this.
After all, it was April Fools’ and she was having the very best sex of her life. Her back arched in ecstasy, and she felt the harsh bristle of his jaw against her neck, most likely drawing blood, and before the first orgasm passed, the second one began.
Her mouth flew open, trying to form words, a scream, a prayer, and the buzz of the alarm clock brayed in her ears. Chance threw it against the wall, hitting the mirror.
Breaking it.
Over and over he thrust inside her, the old wooden bed no match for what was apparently a lifetime of unexplored passion. First there was a crack, then a thud, and finally a splintering sound that meant disaster.
Right as the bed frame collapsed, Chance rolled them to one side just as they crashed to the floor. He took the brunt of the fall, one quiet oomph. Before she could call 9-1-1, he was filling her again.
Certain that this was her last, best sexual experience ever, she rained desperate kisses over his sweat-damp neck, the hard planes of his chest, willing him to stay, in case her thighs padlocked around him weren’t a big enough hint.
But somewhere in her mind, it dawned on her that he wasn’t running, he wasn’t leaving, he wasn’t even slowing down.
The unbreakable window shattered, shards of glass flying, but he picked her up and ran to the living room before she was hit.
“How you doing?” he asked, climbing on top of her, busy hands on her chest, and she loved the sound of his unruffled drawl.
“I told you I was cursed.”
He kissed her mouth, her neck, the tip of her breast, and she didn’t feel cursed. Quietly she sighed, a breathy, exhilarated sound that definitely indicated delight.
“And I told you I do my best work under pressure. Lay back and relax, honey. The night is young, and I want to hear all that dirty actuarial talk again. Assuming, of course, that the roof doesn’t fall in,” he added, tempting the fates.
Thankfully, he had her safely in the basement before it did.