She smiled. So much for slow.
He lifted his head; his own smile was wicked. He kissed her again and his hands went to her breasts. She gasped at the touch. He didn’t dive straight for her nipples, instead he cupped the full weight of her breasts, gently pushing, fingers circling. She felt the tug deep inside as he kissed her again. The guy had the most incredible sense of rhythm—sweet, carnal torment.
Suddenly she couldn’t stand any more. Literally. He caught her as her knees sagged and he lifted her to her hideously narrow bed. She breathed out in relief, her legs parting, holding her arms out to him as he knelt over her.
But he didn’t put his weight on her, didn’t line up his pelvis with hers the way she really wanted. Instead he put his mouth and hands to work in tandem again—repeatedly, rhythmically sweeping over her until she was hot and writhing and so ready. She arched her hips, thrusting them against him again and again.
‘Liam,’ she begged. ‘Please.’
He leaned back on his arms to look into her face. ‘I’ve always wanted you,’ he said, his expression strained. ‘Always wanted this.’
‘Me too,’ she confessed shamelessly. ‘Please, please, please get on with it.’
To her immense relief, he left her, efficiently scooping his trousers from the floor and pulling a new pack of condoms from his pocket. A minute later she heard the snap as he sheathed himself.
She lay back on the bed and spread her legs in welcome. But he wrapped a hand around her ankle and started all over again—kissing from her toes, all the way up the length of her leg. It was torture. But it was bliss.
Why had she thought this wouldn’t be a good idea? This was the best idea she’d ever had. She writhed beneath him, almost in tears, almost laughing, and totally furious that he could still hold back from plunging into her. She rolled, deciding to take matters into her own hands—to mount him and initiate the ride herself.
He let her on top—but he didn’t let her slide onto him. Instead he laughed and caught her hips, using his insane, superior strength to keep her in place just above him. But still he didn’t penetrate.
‘Tease,’ she groaned.
‘Not ’til you come first.’
She closed her eyes. ‘Not without you inside me.’
He laughed. ‘Then we’re at a stalemate.’ He bent his knees and slid down the bed while lifting her so she remained in place—now higher above him.
‘You know how much I like to win,’ he muttered, lifting his hands to palm her breasts again. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to win.’
He shifted a little more so he could kiss her right where she needed him to. His tongue swept into her.
She cried out, her head falling back at the extreme intimacy. ‘Liam.’
‘Come on me,’ he muttered. He licked again and then fastened his lips around her clitoris and sucked.
Her thighs quivered and she pressed her fists onto her knees. He reached up, filling his hands with her breasts. She breathed hard, knowing there was no way she could beat him at this.
‘If I come…’ she panted.
‘Yes.’ He broke the rhythm of his tongue for only a split second to answer.
‘If…’ She couldn’t get it out. ‘Yes.’ He manipulated her breasts more—perfectly in time to the sweeps of his lips and tongue.
‘I…’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh—yes!’ She shuddered as the orgasm hit. Unstoppable. Delightful. Her prolonged groan escaped through gritted teeth.
A satisfied sound rumbled from his throat as he kept tormenting her, so the waves of pleasure kept rippling through her in intense contractions.
She gasped, panting for breath. ‘Please.’
He released her and she slid, bumping her head on the wall as she tumbled to the side of him.
‘Careful.’ He pulled her into his arms, moving to slide her beneath him, but her stupid bed was too small.
They gave up on it, falling to the floor in a tight embrace. Victoria felt consumed by fire. Hooking her legs around his body. Her hands knotted in his short hair.
He looked down at her. His eyes gleamed. Wide, focused. Desperate.
A sense of power filled Victoria. ‘Now,’ she commanded.
Immediately he bore down on her, driving so deep it almost hurt. And it was so incredibly good she wanted more. She arched, urging. He pulled back and pushed into her again. Again. She grunted as she took the brunt of each powerful thrust.
‘Okay?’ he asked, his face creasing in agony as he paused.
‘Don’t stop,’ she begged, grabbing his butt in her hands and squeezing to push him closer. ‘More…’ She groaned again. ‘All.’
He resumed his punishing, perfect rhythm. She wound her limbs round him and just hung on. She couldn’t stop the feral moans as he ground into her, closer and closer with every pounding motion.
‘Liam!’ She screamed as she was tossed into the intense waves of pleasure. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her heels into his lower back.
He roared. His body stiffened, his hands gripping her hard and painfully tight as he shouted again as the tension mirrored in him was released just as violently.
A long moment later he lifted his head from where he was slumped over her. ‘Don’t go to sleep.’
In answer she tightened her grip on him so he couldn’t lift away from her. She didn’t think she’d ever sleep again. Every cell and nerve in her body was so wired she didn’t think they’d ever calm enough for sleep to claim them. She was so hypersensitive she was afraid she might cry. She really didn’t want to do that.
He lifted his head again and looked at her—nose to nose. ‘I’m starving—you?’
His easy return to reality made her laugh. Relief swept through her as she relaxed. ‘You didn’t eat at the wedding?’
‘Funnily enough I didn’t feel like eating much after I got your message. Too tense. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.’
His honesty kept her smile wide. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but there’s nothing in the pantry.’
He rose up from the floor and walked over to the kitchenette area of her studio. He opened the one cupboard and sighed. ‘That’s because you don’t have a pantry, you have a shelf. But—’ he turned and winked at her ‘—you’ll be amazed what I can conjure out of nothing.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘I’ve come up with some desperate options in my time. Bet you’ve never had frozen-pea sandwiches the way I make ’em.’
‘Nice.’ She laughed but her heart tugged at the same time.
But he was laughing easily. ‘Especially with stale bread.’ In the end he found some rice and cooked it up with the few vegetables he found lurking in her fridge. They had some almond biscuits for afters. It was an odd meal for one in the morning. She didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to miss a minute.
She watched him as he ate, wondered how many dinners he’d thrown together out of limited supplies in isolation. ‘You don’t get lonely when you’re alone at sea for so long?’
‘No. I’ve always been alone. That’s the way it is.’
‘But you wanted