Pleasure. Nothing but mind-numbing pleasure. Reagan moaned when she felt the smooth sheet beneath her. The fabric slid against her bare back in a sensual caress…a cool contrast to the heat pressing against her chest and lower abdomen. Hot skin and the rasp of soft hair arrowing down to a taut abdomen blanketed her in warmth. Fucking hell, the ridges of his six-pack sent sparks of electricity straight to her sex.
Her nipples were hypersensitive, the faintest brush of air making her empty pussy clench in need. The clips pinching her nipples made them throb in time with every beat of her heart. The silky hair on his legs rubbed against the inside of Reagan’s thighs, as he pushed them farther apart. With her arms bound to the headboard, she couldn’t do anything to alleviate the pressure growing inside her, and it grew exponentially with every breath she took.
Calloused fingers moved over her ribs, tracing a path down her torso until they bracketed her hips. The feeling of being restrained made her breath catch as goose bumps raced over her fiery skin. “Like being restrained, do you? I will test that, Reagan. Tying you down and pushing your limits will be my greatest pleasure.”
When she didn’t respond, he tightened his grip. The hold might have seemed punishing if she hadn’t wanted him so badly she could barely think. “What do you want, Reagan? Tell me.” This wasn’t a rhetorical question. He expected an answer.
Tell him? Was he serious? Reagan wanted to feel him slide his cock into her wet sheath, the ridges and veins lighting up each and every nerve ending. She panted, her breaths coming so fast and shallow she worried she might hyperventilate. And with blood pooling in her breasts and sex, there wasn’t enough to feed the part of her brain responsible for coherent speech. He expected an answer, but she wasn’t sure her brain was getting enough oxygen to work properly.
“More.” She was elated she’d been able to string enough letters together to form a real word.
“More what? More of this?” His tongue lashed her left nipple, making her moan in response. “No? Then perhaps more of this?” He moved up to seal his lips over hers, his tongue ravaging her mouth, leaving no part untouched. This wasn’t a kiss of seduction; this was a claiming, and it sent her spiraling closer to release. By the time he pulled back, Reagan’s head was swimming. Damn, the man could make her come just by kissing her.
Even though she couldn’t see his face, she felt to her bones who was shifting lower, wedging his cock at her entrance. The smooth head was flame hot, and she squirmed in a futile attempt to press herself onto his length. The man chuckled, and the vibrations ignited every cell in her body. “Please.” Reagan wasn’t sure what she was begging for, but he seemed to understand what she hadn’t been able to put into words.
“How can I say no when you ask so sweetly?” With a swivel of his hips, he pushed in far enough to make her gasp at the sudden stretch of her swollen tissues. The burn was exquisite, and she tried unsuccessfully to tilt her hips up and force him deeper. “So very greedy. I knew you’d be perfect. Your body responds perfectly to my touch; it knows we were matched by the heavens.
“Mine.” His voice was gruff…his own desire challenging the usual smoky tone as he growled the word against her ear. The resonating timbre ratcheted her desire higher each time he made love to her. “Say it. Say you are mine.”
“Yes. Yours.” And she was. Everything in her realized the truth. As soon as the words crossed her lips, he thrust into her depths. The scorching stretch launched her over the edge straight into a blinding orgasm where brilliant white lights singed the insides of her eyelids. Every muscle in her body contracted as electricity blazed over nerve endings like lightning. She smothered her scream against his shoulder, but his continued thrusts were stealing her ability to think.
The sound of his harsh breathing against her ear, the sweet words of encouragement, and the soul stealing orgasm she could feel building in her core were too much to assimilate. “You belong to me. Don’t ever doubt that. You are mine, Peach.”
The minute he called her by the sweet nickname he’d given her, Reagan came awake with a start.
Sitting up in bed, she clutched the sheet to her chest. She gasped for breath as her mind slowly surfaced from the fog of the dream and drifted back from the edge of the release she’d been so close to. Dammit to all. Holy fucking fudge, she’d wanted that second orgasm. Her body was practically vibrating off the bed with the need to find the relief she’d been so close to.
She’d had the same dream for the past several nights, each one progressing further into intimacy they shared. What did it mean that she was suddenly dreaming about the man she’d been watching for several months?
Looking at her bedside clock, Reagan sighed in defeat. She needed to get up and take another shower. Maybe she could wash away the memory of how his hands felt as they skimmed over her bare flesh. Hopefully, the scent of her body shampoo would wash away the lingering scent of his musk from her memory. She was embarrassingly wet, but the feeling that she’d been denied something special taunted her as she shivered in the cold room.
While she waited for the water to warm up, Reagan sent a quick text to Kelsey asking for a ride. If she had to shower in a sixty-degree bathroom, she needed the water as warm as possible. Since her co-worker had to drive by Reagan’s apartment, she didn’t ordinarily mind stopping. Promising to be waiting outside in fifteen minutes, Reagan finished her shower in record time. There wasn’t enough time to dry her hair. She’d be lucky if she didn’t catch her death standing on the curb this early in the morning in the flimsy jacket she called a coat.
Rushing out the door, she wondered what the dreams meant. Rafe Newell had barely spoken to her beyond polite greetings and telling her she smelled like peaches. Pushing the questions to the back of her mind, Reagan climbed into Kelsey’s warm car and settled in to listen to the other woman recount all the intimate details of the date she’d had the previous night. The woman had no filters. Reagan wished her own car wasn’t on the fritz again, but wishes didn’t change facts, and they damned well didn’t pay the bills.