Both moaned.

“Bailey,” he growled. “Fuck. You feel so good.”

All those nights he crawled into my bed, tasted me, touched me, kissed me, licked me. He made me come, his fingers sliding inside of me, sometimes his tongue, and I would gasp, then explode, and in the mornings he would be gone. He never let me reciprocate. He had been waiting, and I was half worried he wouldn’t let me this time, let himself, but as he began grinding on me, I knew what he wanted.

I was burning for it. My skin was buzzing, goose bumps all over. My blood was boiling, washing through my body, warming me until I was at a dizzying heat level.

“Now.” I pushed my hips against him, jerking back so I was pushing off from the cupboards.

His hand clamped on my hip, and he caught me, rocking with my motion. I was going hard, desperate, and a guttural sound left his throat as he opened his mouth, moving down my throat. Kissing. More tasting. More licking.

He knew every inch of me, had explored there for hours at times. He knew how my pulse would flutter when he lingered over my carotid or swept down the arch of my throat. How my body would jerk and kick up when he would pause between my breasts. Tonight, though … Tonight he didn’t have the control of those nights. Tonight he was hungry and just as wild as me. His kisses were harder, more primitive. More crazy. His lips closed over my nipple as I kept my hips rubbing against him. He was pushing back, pushing hard into me, his body arched over mine on the counter.

“Fucking hell,” he gasped. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

This was—He was in me. He was under my skin, and what we were going to do next meant something. There were words I wanted to spill, but I didn’t know if I dared. I didn’t know if I could. We hadn’t gone there. But then he groaned, his eyes black now, and he bent down. His mouth found mine in the gentlest but most soul-consuming kiss I’d ever felt. I opened for him. There was no resistance in me, just hunger.

Just need.

I whispered against his lips, “I want you.”

Another groan, and he bent over me, his knee settling between my legs. His hand went down my back, shifting so it was under my hip, and he lifted me, carrying me to the bed.

He crawled over me, holding himself above me, and he dipped down, his mouth meeting mine again. I met him halfway. A kiss. A second. A third. We kept kissing, tasting each other.

He moved back, taking his pants off, his boxer briefs next, and he sprang forward.

My eyes opened wide at the size, but I knew it was like that. I had felt him pressing against me for so many nights.

He caught my look, a grin appearing. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I’d never want someone else. He would ruin me, but he didn’t ask, and he reached for a condom. Sliding it on, he paused, his eyes twinkling. “Next time, you put it on. That’ll be a different sort of fun game.”

More groaning. He was going to be the death of me.

Then he was on the bed again, his fingers making quick work of my pants. He tugged them off, my underwear next, until I was stretched out for his viewing pleasure. He paused, taking me all in, and he nudged my legs wider, bending quick to press a kiss there before moving over me. I felt him line up, and he paused, our gazes holding.

“Ready?”

“God yes.”

At “God,” he pushed in, and I arched, my back leaving the bed, my breasts pushing against his chest. I was so full. He paused before moving even further inside of me.

I was seeing stars.

I was feeling stars.

He began to move, and I couldn’t hold it in. The sensations. The lust. He was moving slow, taking me deep, pulling me, pushing me, owning me, and I was holding on for my life. He began to move quicker. I was with him, my hips rocking. I raked my nails down his back and he gasped into my neck, his head rearing up.

He paused, rasping out, “Slow or rough? You choose.”

His hips pressed down on mine. He swiveled them, grinding inside of me, twisting both ways, and I could barely breathe.

“Choose.” He said it softly, falling to place a lingering kiss on my throat. “Or I will.”

I couldn’t choose. I was shaking my head, just needing him. “Both.”

“Oh, you’re getting both, but you choose the first one.”

I felt it building, and feeling it coming up, erupting out of me, I cried out, “Rough! Rough, please.”

He grunted, his hand coming to my hip. He pulled out till his tip was just inside, then he thrust in, and he thrust in hard. He picked me up, his hand under my ass, gripping me, and he went fast, he went rough, until I was seeing those stars all over again.