and a floor-to-ceiling mirror with distinct possibilities.
She released his hand long enough to rummage through three drawers and a cabinet under the sink. He would have laughed at her frantic search if he weren’t practically crippled from wanting her so badly.
When she straightened the disappointment in her eyes vindicated what he was about to do.
‘Doesn’t matter.’
Her mouth down-turned. ‘Yeah, it does. I don’t do unprotected sex.’
‘Neither do I.’ He reached out and touched her collarbone, then let his fingertip trail downward, around one breast, then the other, in slow concentric circles, until she sagged against the vanity. ‘But there’s loads we can do without the grand finale.’
Her eyes lit up as she registered the meaning behind his words and before he could say anything she’d whipped off her tee-shirt, giving him an eyeful of demi-cup black satin and pushed-up cleavage.
‘Well, I guess that answers my next question—whether you’d be up for it or not.’
In response she reached for his zipper, tugged it down and slid her hand inside.
He gritted his teeth as she stroked him through the cotton of his boxers, until she reached the tip and he damn near exploded.
‘Turn around.’
Her hand stilled at his command and her eyes widened, but he didn’t see fear. He saw excitement and heat and yearning. Major turn on.
He missed her touch when she eased her hand out of his pants and swivelled towards the mirror but this would be worth the wait.
He wanted to watch her come.
He wanted to watch her watch him.
With surprisingly steady hands he popped the snap on her jeans, unzipped her and slid the denim down to mid-thigh-level.
Man, she was wearing a thong. Black satin. Same as the bra. He liked black. Some would say it matched his soul, but he didn’t agree.
Right about now his soul was red. Fire-engine red. Crimson. The colour of passion and sin and debauchery. Maybe he’d buy her red lingerie for next time.
Her gaze was riveted to his hands as he hooked his thumbs into the elastic riding low on her hips and tugged, revealing her to him.
That expletive spilled from his lips again as he pressed against her—a gentle pressure that had her head falling back to rest on his shoulder.
But she didn’t stop staring at his hand as he slid a finger between her slick folds, circling her, her wet heat driving him slowly but surely insane.
‘Do you trust me?’
‘I’m watching you pleasure me. What do you think?’
He grinned. Even now she was feisty. He liked it.
‘Okay, then.’
He made quick work of tugging down his pants and boxers, biting back another curse when his hard-on made contact with her butt.
‘Spread your legs a fraction,’ he said, and slid between them when she did. The exquisite contact of his shaft with her moist heat almost undid him.
Amazingly, she didn’t stop him or ask questions. She trusted him not to enter her and that knowledge, after all he’d been through over the last year, turned him on more than anything she could have said or done.
‘Watch.’
He pushed forward, his erection fully between her legs, and she gasped as she saw him appear just beneath his hand.
‘Keep watching.’
And she did, as he slid in and out between her legs, mimicking what he’d give anything to be doing deep inside her now.
As his finger picked up the tempo she started moving, her hips pushing back against him, urging him to go faster.
So he did. The torturous friction was building. Peaking. Crescendoing.
She arched a second before she screamed, riding his hand as he’d have liked to be riding her.
He eased away, shocked by the intensity of her orgasm, and even more suprised when she dropped to her knees.
‘What are you doing—?’
‘If you have to ask, you’re not as good at all this as I thought.’
He would have laughed if she hadn’t taken him into her mouth. All the way.
It was his turn to watch, but he didn’t know where to look. At his fantasy come to life or in the mirror, where what she was doing was reflected back to him in eye-popping erotic detail.
He settled for watching her—the golden sheen of her hair beneath the bathroom lights, her lips surrounding him.
Then she started using her tongue and he lost it. He’d been close when she came, and all it took was three sweeps of her tongue around the tip.
His orgasm ripped through him with the force of an explosion and he swore loudly.
As residual shudders of pleasure rippled through him he held out his hands to help her stand.
She ignored them, pulling up her jeans as she ducked down to the sink.
Uh-oh.
He made himself decent, waiting for her to finish and look at him. The tap eased to a drip, she used a handtowel, still didn’t glance up.
‘Look at me.’
After a few moments her reluctant gaze met his.
‘Don’t go having second thoughts now.’ He snagged her hands, grateful she didn’t pull away this time. ‘What we just did blew my mind.’
Relief eased her drawn-together brows. ‘You’re inventive. I’ll say that for you.’
He laughed, and thankfully she joined in. He liked that she hadn’t clammed up on him or gone distant. He would have hated that.
‘But for the record—next time I’m bringing a box.’
‘To stand on?’
‘Of condoms.’ Buoyed by her sense of humour, he pulled her close, enveloping her in his arms with his chin resting on her head. ‘Guess I should be grateful you didn’t say there won’t be a next time.’
She nuzzled his neck in response, and if it wasn’t the damndest thing he was ready to go again. ‘There’ll be a next time. Count on it.’
He was. What he wasn’t counting on was the dazed anticipation in his eyes as he stared at his reflection.
For a guy used to being in total control, a guy who liked his sex without commitment,
