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“Well, let’s see what we’re working with.” She smirked as she climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs. She worked his belt open and then his fly, and he was only too happy to help push the fabric down his hips. Grabbing the waistband of his boxer briefs, she tugged them out of the way. The air hit him, and he bit his tongue as she took him in hand. Warm slender fingers and brush of thumb over the slit. God, it had been so long since anyone had touched him like this. Looked at him like this. “Oh,” she said. “This is very nice.”

“Glad you like.” It came out shivery and strained.

“Very much so.” Starting up a slow rhythm, she leaned over to nip at his bottom lip, and he arched up into it, the kiss and the heat of her hand. “Just might have to take it for a ride.”

“Oh fuck, yes.”

That sounded so much better than a hand job.

Shifting her balance, she worked his clothes farther down his body. When she hit the middle of his thighs, she rose up onto her knees and sat back. He didn’t waste any time getting the rest of the way undressed, kicking off his sneakers and peeling his socks away as he rid himself of his underwear and shorts.

It took her a little longer. Her boots were blue today, nearly a match for the shock of dye in her hair, and unlacing them seemed to be a bitch. He moved to help, but she batted at him, undoing the knots with deft fingers. She finally got them gone and shoved her bottoms down, and then she was naked. Gorgeous. And urging him down, climbing on top of him. His slick tip nudged her thigh, and he choked on her name, wanting in, in, in right now.

“One second,” she muttered.

And oh thank fuck she was a smart one. Somehow, she’d ended up with a condom in her hand. As she tore the wrapper off and tossed it aside, he gave it a look. It wasn’t one of his.

“Shut up, I keep one on me, okay?”

“So much more than okay.” Kind of a turn-on actually.

But not as much of one as her grabbing at him and rolling the latex on, lifting the length of him and lining him up.

“Holy shit.” His whole spine arched as she sank down onto him. She was searing hot inside, smooth and tight around him, and he grabbed at her hips, blindly holding on to her while he fought for some kind of control over himself.

Hell if she was having any of that, though.

“Thought you said I could do whatever I wanted with it.” She braced herself over him, hands on his shoulders and spine wickedly arched as she started to move, sending tremors through every inch of his nerves.

“Not complaining,” he gritted out. There wasn’t any keeping her still, just the torturous pleasure of the way she gripped him. He slid his hands up and down her sides, cupped her ass and felt it bounce as she picked up the pace, taking him, riding him. “Oh, Christ.”

She had the balls to smile, wicked and sharp, and then she was leaning in, kissing his mouth. “Feels even better than I thought,” she said. “Nice and full.”

“You feel amazing.” The smooth skin beneath his palms, the brush of her breasts as the tips of them scraped his chest, the way the piercing dragged. And being inside her like this, having her over and surrounding him…

For a moment that seemed to stretch on and on, everything else faded away. It was just her and him and the connection between their bodies. The fire of their initial confrontations, the heat of her spark, and how it had flowed into careful touches. Cracks in her exterior. And then this. Now.

In this room, on this island, with this girl.

He closed his eyes and held on.

Time sped up again a second later when she bit her way down the column of his throat. The sucking pressure of her mouth had a familiar warmth gathering in his gut. She was going to leave marks.

“Lower.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, and she made a sound of displeasure but allowed herself to be moved. The next bite was beneath his collarbone, and the next on his biceps, and he fucking loved it. Bending his knees, he got his feet on the mattress, finding some leverage to shift his hips into hers, and she groaned, low and throaty, just like she had before she’d fallen apart the first time.

He’d already been about to do it, but she grabbed his wrist and dragged his hand to the place where they were joined. It wasn’t easy with the way she was moving on him, but he curled his hand into the crease of her thigh, got his thumb up into all that softness. The edge of his thumb slid along the length of his own cock before he found her clit, and she made this beautiful sound.

“Can you come again?” he asked, because he didn’t have a whole lot left in him, not the way she was taking him apart, but he’d hold out if it meant he got to feel her.

“Guess we’re about to find out.” She dropped down onto her forearm as she rode him with prejudice, slipping one hand to tug at her own breast.

He joined her, twisting the barbell through her nipple at the same time he rubbed her harder with his thumb.

“Oh—” She clenched up around him, her mouth dropping open, and if she’d been gorgeous in orgasm before, it was nothing compared to this. Her skin was slick with sweat, a hot flush covering her chest, and she groaned like she was dying.

And he couldn’t take it anymore.

He left his one hand between her legs and slapped the other to her thigh, keeping her steady as he thrust up into her. Pounded into that tight, wet heat, let himself really feel it…

His eyes snapped shut and he threw his head back as the pleasure overtook him. He emptied himself into her in a rush, turning inside out with the sheer expansiveness of it, the connection.

The inevitability. For all that they’d spent so long working up to it.

It felt, somehow, that they’d always been meant to end up here.

Chapter Twelve

Jo’s whole body thrummed with satisfaction as she gave in to the shakiness in her arms and legs, letting herself collapse onto Adam’s bulk. They were sweaty and disgusting, but he smelled good and felt better, and when she clenched around him, wringing out the last licks of pleasure, he twitched inside her in the best way.

He let out a soft, embarrassed laugh and wrapped his arms around her, and that was… different. He didn’t slap her ass or thank her for the fuck and show her the door. Instead, he held her like she was precious, like he had no real intention of moving anytime soon. It made something uncomfortable and warm unfurl in her gut.

She refused to think too much about it, lying there on top of him, working to catch her breath. Finally, though, the swelter got to be too much. Fucking in the tropics was going to be such a pain in the ass. “God, you’re like a furnace,” she muttered as she peeled her chest from his.

He was a good, responsible sex partner, easing his hand between them to hold on to the condom as he slipped free. Collapsing to the side, she got out of his way as he rose to deal with the cleanup. She craned her neck to watch him stumble across the room.

Hot damn but the boy had a fantastic ass. He’d looked good from the front, but the bare expanse of flesh he showed her when he turned was another entire level of hotness.

“You don’t have any tattoos.” She said it without really thinking, letting her gaze sweep over miles of virgin skin.

“Nope.” He made a soft sound, then drew a couple of tissues from a box.

“You ever thought about it?”

“Not really.”

“You sure seem to like them, though.”

He dropped the trash into a wastebasket in the corner of the room before facing her again. And maybe she’d been wrong. The front of him looked damn good from this angle, too.