DEVON STARED DOWN at Becca’s face, trying to judge her sincerity. Did she really want this? Had he somehow manipulated her? Shouldn’t he just wait one more week until Clarice was back—
Her finger brushed the tip of his erection, and things went hazy, really hazy.
“Please Devon?” She leaned forward and bit his neck, flicked her tongue against the tiny hurt.
And how in the hell was he supposed to resist that?
He tucked his hands under her ass — not minding the grip in the least — and stood. She gasped, held on tight to his neck.
“Your side,” she said, worry in her tone.
Yeah no. Worry was not what he was going for. If they were finally taking the plunge in this, then he wanted her boneless and limp, satiated and flushed. He walked to the fireplace and set her down on the rug.
But he had to be certain.
His mouth hovered an inch above hers. “You sure?”
A nod made him grin. “Kind of need the actual words, sweetheart.”
“I’m sure, Devon.” She touched his cheek. “I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve got a condom in my pocket. Can you get inside me already?”
Not a naughty word in sight, and yet that was the single sexiest thing a woman had ever said to him.
“Yes. I can do that.” Slipping his fingers under the hem of her sassy little button-down, he reveled in the silk-like texture of his skin. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember ever having touched something so soft. He lifted the material, pressed a kiss to her stomach, loving the way her breath hitched.
“Devon?” she asked when all he did was stroke the exposed skin.
“You’re overdressed,” he murmured and slipped the bottom button free. He touched his lips to the space just above her navel.
Another button. Another kiss. Another. Another. Another.
Until all that creamy skin was visible. Her breasts were swathed in pink lace. Pink see-through lace.
“I really want to curse right now,” he said, running a finger under the flimsy material, “in a good way.”
Becca’s cheeks were flushed, and she arched up, reaching behind her and unhooking the strap of her bra. “Me too…” A pause as she shrugged out of the lace. “…in the absolute best way.”
Then her breasts were in his hands, and Devon was spinning, curse words forgotten, nothing filling his mind except the drive to please Becca.
He flicked the button on her slacks and slid them down as she kicked off her shoes. The lace below wasn’t the same pink, but he couldn’t care less. He swept it off, stroking and caressing, kissing and licking every inch of her. Only when she was writhing and begging — and uttering his favorite curse word — did he pull off his pants and roll on the condom.
“Last chance,” he said, sweat beading his brow, his body aching… and not because of his healing wounds.
Becca was everything. If she said stop—
She grabbed his hips and pulled down, and fuck yeah, he was there.
The world went blank, nothing existed except the two of them and their race to the peak. He tried to go slow, wanted to draw their first time out, but it was impossible to fight his rising desire. Not when Becca was so sweetly sensual below him, meeting him thrust for thrust, holding on tight and making the hottest little moans in the back of her throat.
And when she screamed his name, convulsing around him, that was it for his self-control.
He exploded.
AWHILE LATER, THEY forced themselves to move upstairs, and Devon coaxed Becca into a repeat performance in the shower.
He had set her on the marble countertop and was patting her dry with a towel when he noticed the red abrasions on her skin. His brows pulled together. Damn. He touched his face, felt the sandpaper-like texture of his unshaved face.
He’d done that.
She glanced down at where his hand rested against the abused spot and smiled. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt.”
“I’m going to shave.” He tucked the towel around her then bent and pulled his razor from the cabinet. But just as his fingers wrapped around the handle, his stomach growled loud enough to shake the foundation of the house.
“It doesn’t matter.” She touched his chest. “You’re hungry. Let’s go eat first.”
“No,” he said and flicked the switch, filling the space with buzzing.
“Dev—”
“Are we going to play a game of Who’s More Stubborn?” he asked, running the electric razor along his neck. “Because I’d put your bet on me.”
She stared at him before sighing. “I’d bet that too.” A kiss to his chest. “How about I heat up something to eat?”
He used his free hand to tug her ponytail. “I could get on board with that.”
“And a salad? Since you’re getting so fat?” Her eyes danced in amusement.
His lips twitched. “Touché.” He set the razor aside and helped her down before giving her a little tap on her butt. “You can wear my robe if you want. It’s on the back of the door.”
“Thanks.”
She dropped the towel, and he almost sliced his carotid.
“Hurry down,” she said as she slipped into the robe and then walked through the door, hips swaying as she went.
He said that word again, and meant it again, in the best way.