I had a moment of hesitation and then, “Skylar?”
And that was all it took. Him saying my damn name in that sexy as fuck voice.
I whirled around, letting exactly how much I wanted him blaze from my eyes. His hands clenched at his sides and his nostrils flared.
Then we rushed each other. Our bodies collided seconds before our mouths did.
It wasn’t a sweet romance-movie kiss.
It was lips, tongue, need.
Killian’s hand fisted the short strands of my hair as he held my head to his; my fingers bit into his biceps. I grasped onto him for what was nothing short of a ravaging.
The kiss tasted of longing, frustration, desperation, and punishment. A punishment of each other for having feelings we knew we shouldn’t have.
I whimpered against his tongue as his other hand gripped my ass hard to pull me against his thick erection.
The sound made Killian grind his hips harder into me. He ripped his mouth from mine to ask on a groan, squeezing my ass, “Where the hell did this arse come from?”
I laughed, reaching for his face, wanting his lips back. “I grew it just for you.”
His chuckle rumbled in my mouth as we kissed harder, the need inside me flaring toward combustion.
I needed him inside me.
I didn’t want foreplay. Or to be teased and stretched and taunted.
I wanted to be filled. Overwhelmingly filled. I wanted him inside me. Now.
Fumbling for the button on his jeans, I made that very clear.
Then we were on the floor, hands pawing and ripping while lips and tongues found any naked spot they could find. I’d frantically shoved Killian’s shirt off but before I could get to his T-shirt, he was pushing the hem of my dress up. His longer fingers curled around the elastic waist of my tights and he tugged so wildly, I heard them tear.
Neither of us cared as he yanked them and my underwear down my thighs. They got caught around my boots and Killian cursed as he managed to yank one boot off along with the torn leg of my tights and underwear.
But as he struggled with the other, my patience fled. “Fuck it,” I panted. “Just get inside me. Killian, now.”
Whether it was my saying his name or my pleading or both, he abandoned the other shoe and moved back over me. His kisses were even hungrier as I fumbled to pull the zipper down on his jeans.
He slipped his hands between my legs, sliding his fingers into me. The wet he found there made him grunt into my mouth. He tore his lips from mine and my chest rose and fell in frenzied breaths as he stared into my eyes with more hunger than any man ever had.
And the fact that it was Killian looking at me like that only increased my desire.
“You’re soaked.” His face hardened with need and he sat up straddling me, the movement forcing my hands to fall to my sides. I watched him, watched his shaking hands, all composure gone, as he tugged out his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open impatiently, and removed a foil package.
Anticipation made me squirm beneath him as he threw away the wallet and tugged the zipper on his jeans down the rest of the way. He never broke eye contact as he shoved down his jeans and boxers just far enough to release his thick, swollen erection. It saluted me as he tore open the condom packet.
My fingers clawed the carpet beneath me. Every second he took felt like torture. But to be fair, he rolled that condom on in record time and fell between my legs, his elbows braced on either side of my head as he kissed me.
I let my legs fall open, wide, and as he nudged against me, I moaned into his mouth only to break the kiss to beg. “Killian.”
He pushed into me. Hard.
My desire eased his way considerably but he was big, thick, and that overwhelming fullness I’d been desperate for shot electric sparks of pleasure down my spine.
I needed more.
“Killian,” I breathed, sliding my hands down his ass, pushing his jeans further out of the way so I could curl my fingers into his silken, hard muscle.
“Fuck, Skylar,” he growled, his head bowing into my neck as he pushed up onto his hands and moved his hips.
If everything was out of control before, it turned to animal chaos. Everything we were, wanted, and needed, centered around the hot, fast, hard drive of him inside me. My hips rose in shallow thrusts to meet his, my cries filling his ears as his groans filled mine.
I held onto him so fiercely, I probably left bruises.
The tension inside me tightened, tightened, tightened every time he pulled out and slammed back in. So full. So overwhelmingly full.
It was bliss.
Coiling bliss.
“I’m close,” I gasped.
He reached for my thigh, wrapping his big hand around it, and pulled it up against his hip, changing the angle of his thrust.
The tension inside shattered, lights flickering behind my eyes as I flew to some before unknown physical nirvana. I think I might have screamed.
It rolled through me, my inner muscles rippling and squeezing around Killian. His hips pounded faster against me and then momentarily stilled before he cried out my name, his grip on my thigh bruising as his hips jerked with the swell and throb of his release.
As his climax shuddered through him, he let go of my thigh and slumped over me. I felt his warm, heavy weight and closed my eyes, enjoying the sweetest, most contented satisfaction I’d ever felt.
Our labored breathing filled the apartment.
My heart was thumping so hard.
Finally, the blood rushing in my ears calmed and I became fully cognizant of our situation.
I was sprawled on the living room floor with Killian on top of me, between my legs, still inside me. My dress was pushed up around my waist, my underwear and ripped tights were stuck around my right ankle because I was still wearing a shoe, and Killian was still fully dressed.
It had been frantic.
Animalistic.
A base need to have him inside me after weeks of foreplay.
And it had been the best sex I’d ever had.
So I lay there hoping he wasn’t going to ruin it by letting reality intrude.
Finally, Killian lifted his head so our lips were inches from each other’s. He wore the amused, soft look of a man who had been deeply satisfied. It made my lips twitch with relief.
“Well, we’re definitely doing that again.”
Laughter bubbled out of me, making me shake beneath him. We grinned at each other as I replied, “Yeah, we are.”
* * *
“BLAME IT ON THE DRESS.”
I rolled my head to the side to stare at Killian incredulously. “Seriously? It was the dress?”
We’d graduated from the living room floor to my bed. I’d changed into a tank top and fresh underwear while Killian cleaned up in the bathroom.
When he came out, his eyes drank in the sight of me sitting on the bed waiting for him. He lingered on my bare legs and then shucked off his shoes. The T-shirt followed, and I got all warm and tingly again as he removed his jeans. I’d felt his lean muscle while holding on to him for dear life as he moved inside me, but seeing it made my girly bits very happy.
Although broad-shouldered, he wasn’t bulky muscle. I knew that. But I hadn’t anticipated how defined his physique would be. That six-pack. Dear God, I might swoon. That came from more than swimming. The man had to work out every day to look like that.
“Enjoying the view?” Killian asked, smirking as he clambered over me and onto the other side of the bed. He laid back on my pillows, one arm stretched above his head, and watched me.
It was weird how comfortable this was.
I’d stretched out beside him. “I am. I’m also waiting for you to start freaking out. What happened to that tight control of yours?”
That’s when he said, “Blame it on the dress.”
“Seriously? It was the dress?”
“It was the dress.” He nodded, completely unabashed.
I wrinkled my nose. “God, even smart men can be so easily undone by a dress.”
He studied me, suddenly serious. “Only if it’s on the right woman.”
Stupidly pleased by that, I bit my lip to stop my huge grin.
Killian’s eyes dropped to my mouth and darkened.
“So, you saw me in the dress and all your rules and ideas about us went out the window?”
He scrubbed a hand down his face and let it drop limply at his side. He looked resigned. “I can’t fight how I feel about you anymore. Clearly. It’s fucking exhausting anyway.”