And it looked good. His pleasure looked amazing, sexy and gorgeous in a way she’d never fully understood before.
Hardly thinking, she extended her hand, slipping her fingertips over the head of his cock. The flesh was hot and achingly hard. “Let me—”
Before she could finish the offer, he gasped out a sound like he’d been punched, his body a tight bow, mouth open. “Kate, Kate, I—”
His come flowed over her hand, spattering down onto her hip in white streaks that felt like possession. She never would’ve expected it, but in that instant, being marked that way made a dark flare of satisfaction awake beneath her skin.
“Goddamn,” he groaned, taking a couple of last, slow pulls at himself before sliding free of his own grip. His damp fingers entwined with hers, and he squeezed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get you all messy.”
“It’s okay.”
Something in her chest turned over. Because it was. She didn’t mind.
She hadn’t been a virgin when she’d met him. They hadn’t had sex. But as she lay there, his body between her legs, her flesh wet with him . . . it felt like she had done something for the very first time.
Like she would never be quite the same as she had before.
chapter EIGHT
Rylan was wringing a washcloth out in the sink when he happened to look up. The bathroom was a little cramped, to be honest, but it was clean, the big plate-glass mirror over the vanity smoothly polished.
The man staring back at him from inside of it looked like he’d just had the best fuck of his life.
Balling the washcloth up in his fist, he ran his other hand through his hair, settling it down from where it had been standing up on end. Kate had done a number on him in that respect, tugging hard at his scalp—almost too hard in the moment right before she’d arched and screamed and pulsed against his tongue.
Just thinking about it made him lick his lips. He’d slept with more than his share of women, but he couldn’t think of any that had gone to pieces quite like that. He probably had nail marks all up and down his shoulders and his neck.
He’d been the first to make her come. And it had shown. God. She’d been wound up, and toward the end there, even he’d been starting to doubt if it were possible. She hadn’t seemed a stranger to the little death—and wasn’t that an image? The idea of her getting herself off? But either she’d been psyching herself out or he had lost his edge. Either way, she hadn’t asked him to stop, and she’d been so into it that he’d had to keep going, drunk on the sound of her moans. She’d clung to the edge for what had felt like forever, and when she’d finally let go . . .
He hadn’t even gotten inside her, and it had been one of the most intense sexual experiences of his life.
So intense, he hadn’t wanted to ruin it by pressing for something she’d clearly been uncomfortable with. Sex had been off the table, but he’d been so worked up. He’d thought it would take maybe a dozen strokes of his hand.
In the end, it had taken exactly one of hers.
Spent as he was, his cock gave a little twitch of interest inside his boxers. Which reminded him of what he was here to do.
Making a face, he got himself out and cleaned up the best he could. Not that he’d really made much of a mess of himself. His breath caught short at the image, seared into his mind, of his release on Kate’s pale skin. He hadn’t taken her, not yet, but that twisted animal hindbrain of his had enjoyed what claim he’d managed to stake.
A claim that had to be getting pretty damn uncomfortable by now.
He set the rag aside and ran a fresh one under the tap, as hot as he could stand, before squeezing it out and folding it up. He turned, stepping forward to face the open door leading onto the main room.
Kate lay there still, all creamy skin and the tumble of her hair against the white of the sheets. She was looking right at him, and for the first time all night, he felt self-conscious.
“You watching me?” he asked, putting on a smirk as he leaned against the doorway.
“You’re not the only one who can appreciate a view.”
It wasn’t ego stroking, and that was what made it hit him so squarely in the chest. He worked hard to look good—it was one of the only things he had to put effort into these days. It was nice to be appreciated. But it was also somehow something more.
The wryness to his smile melted away, leaving a curve to his mouth that felt entirely too genuine, and he’d curse himself later for being such a softie. But there wasn’t much to do about it now. Shaking his head, he crossed the room to her, sitting down on the edge of the bed at her side. She was still wearing that pretty blue lace bra, and it cupped her tits so perfectly. Made the soft pillows of the tops of them look all the fuller and more inviting. Resisting their temptation, he bent to nudge the sheet from where she’d draped it across her hip, leaving it high enough to hide her cunt without dragging through the puddle he’d left on her skin.
At the touch of the washcloth to her abdomen, she hummed. “Warm,” she said.
“Figured you’d like that.”
“Yeah.”
Once he’d wiped it all away, he bowed to press his lips to the hollow beside her hip. Planting his hand on the bed, he dropped another kiss on her navel and one on the top of each breast. He bypassed her lips, though, leaving a final one on her forehead.
He rose, pushing off to head to the bathroom.
“Thank you,” she said.
He paused. “You’re welcome?” It was an odd thing to say, right in that moment.
Apparently, she heard his confusion. “For everything. That, with the washcloth. It was nice. And . . . before. You were really patient with me.”
The insecurity dripping from her voice stopped him in his tracks. Forget the nasty rag in his hand. He rounded back toward the bed, dropped a knee to its edge, and probably with too much fierceness, insisted, “You do not need to thank me for that.”
What he really wanted to do was ask her what kind of assholes she’d been sleeping with. When you got a girl to be with you, you made damn sure she came, with your mouth or your fingers or your dick, and if she wasn’t cool with that, then by her own damn hand. Fuck anything else. And when you got a girl dirty, you sure as hell cleaned her up. Took care of her.
And just like that, he wanted to deck any guy who hadn’t done any of that for her before. She deserved better. So pretty and smart, so giving.
For a second, he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm down. Sure enough, when he looked at her again, she had a wariness to her expression, and no. That wasn’t okay.
He cupped her face and leaned down, covering her mouth with his as gently and as sweetly as he could. “It was a pleasure,” he promised. “Every single moment of it. A privilege.”
He slid his hand down her neck before pulling away.
On his way back to the bathroom, he flexed his fingers at his side, still feeling the warmth of her skin against his palm. More often than not, he went to bed with a woman once, and then he moved on. But he hadn’t been lying. She’d been beautiful in her pleasure, and it had been a privilege to give it to her.
A privilege he hoped he’d get to have again. At least once.
The man in the bathroom mirror stared at him, and he didn’t know who he’d been fooling. He hoped he could have her a lot more times than that.
As many times as he could before she left.
While the water was running in the other room, Kate took the opportunity to quietly freak the hell out. She’d only ever done the one-night stand thing once before, and that had been completely different. The guy had come to her place, and as soon as he was done, he’d left her there, sore and confused and desperate for a shower.
Nothing about this encounter seemed to be heading in that direction.