her, tell her she was beautiful or he cared about her. But he couldn’t think of a damn thing that wouldn’t sound fake or forced, and his mouth was full of cotton, anyway.
So he scrapped the idea of trying to be romantic or chivalrous and simply leaned in to take her lips. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers through his hair.
Keeping his mouth firmly on hers, he laid her back along the seat of the cab and knelt between her legs. A small shift of her skirt and his pants, and he was inside her.
She was gloriously tight and wet and felt like heaven. He let out a groan of pleasure, resting his brow against hers for a moment until his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal. Well, as normal as they were likely to get when he was this close to Emma, this close to pure bliss.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained. He sensed rather than saw her nod and felt her slick inner muscles tighten around him in assent.
It was all he could do not to moan in sweet agony.
She was amazing. Open and eager. Fluid and graceful, but at the same time wild and uninhibited.
Holding her was like holding a live wire. And that charge, that jolt of high-voltage electricity, rocked him to his core.
He’d been celibate ever since he found out Suzanne was cheating on him, so it was no small wonder he was ravenous for a woman’s touch. It had almost been easier to simply grit his teeth and white-knuckle his way through the lack of sex in his life.
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