Wilder

“Then why don’t you?” I challenged him, needing him inside me, a part of me.

He kissed my mouth softly as his thumb drew a lazy circle around my clit. “Because the first time I’m inside you, it will be because you’re running toward me, to us, not away from something else.”

I gasped as he lightly stroked me, dragging his thumb at the most sublime pressure. “Paxton,” I begged. I just wished I knew exactly what for.

He switched his angle and slid one finger within me. “Tight. So damn tight. How long has it been?” he asked, stroking my inner walls.

“Years,” I answered truthfully.

“God, I can’t wait to be here.” He stroked me again, sending spirals of fire through every nerve in my body. “You have no idea how good it’s going to be between us.”

“And you do?” I asked, gasping as he pressed on my clit.

“The way you respond to me? How wet you are? Your body is practically begging for mine, Leah. Here?” He inserted another finger, and my back bowed off the bed. It felt so damn good. “You’re going to squeeze me perfectly, and I’m going to make you so glad that you said yes.”

I rocked my hips against his hand, moving his fingers within me. “And you?” I asked with what brain power I had left.

He took my other hand and placed it on his erection. I squeezed his length gently, my eyes widening at the size of him.

“I’ve never been this hard for a woman. This desperate. I’ve never had to hold myself back and not take exactly what I wanted, and I’ve never wanted anyone the way I crave you. That’s how I know we’ll be good together. Because what we have right here is better than anything I’ve ever had.”

Then he kissed me, his tongue moving in rhythm with his fingers below, stroking, teasing, giving me just enough to keep me on edge, but not enough to tip me over.

“What do you want?” he whispered again. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Paxton,” I begged.

“Say it.”

“Let me come,” I pleaded, knowing he held it back on purpose, loving that he had that control over my body as much as I hated it.

“God, yes,” he groaned. Then he rubbed my clit, giving me the perfect amount of pressure and friction to curl my toes. When he stroked his fingers upward inside me, that blessed pressure tightened in my belly, so sweet I could taste it with his tongue moving with mine.

He worked me expertly, keeping the pressure steady, the rhythm perfect until that tightening grew unbearable and my body took over, riding back against him, my hands in his hair, desperate to hold on to whatever of him I could.

“Paxton!” I cried out his name as the tension broke in beautiful waves over me, releasing parts of my heart into his keeping with the same breath.

“You’re exquisite,” he said as he stroked me back down, kicking back the orgasm with skilled motions.

My heartbeat slowed along with my breathing, a peaceful lethargy stealing over my limbs. “You,” I said, my hands moving down the rigid muscles of his abdomen.

He trapped my hands. “Nope. My control is one touch away from snapping.”

It was ridiculously selfish, but the gesture made me feel separate from his conquests, like I was special—like we had something special.

He brushed a damp tendril of hair from my forehead. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not a martyr.”

“Really?” I teased, rubbing my hips gently against his hard-on.

He eased off me and then turned my body in his arms, spooning against my back. OMG, and he spoons? Paxton Wilder spoons.

“Really. I have devious plans for you, Miss Baxter. They just won’t happen here. But trust me. Very devious. I’d be bold enough to say nefarious.”

I groaned. “Talk vocabulary to me, baby.”

He laughed, the sound warming me even more than his raging body heat. “Downright diabolical, my little Firecracker.”

Through the sliding glass door next to our bed, I watched a shooting star streak across the sky.

I wish that I could always feel like this.

Had there ever been a more romantic, perfect setting?

Sure, back on the ship…where you’re supposed to be.

“What did you wish for?” he asked.

I turned in his arms and traced the lines of his face. “I wished I could be as fearless as you,” I said, my hand absently stroking the head of his dragon tattoo.

“I’m not fearless. There are plenty of things that scare me.”

I looked up at him, his features softened by moonlight. “Like what?”

“Snakes,” he answered with a self-deprecating half smile. “They’re slimy little fuckers who move without feet. It’s unnatural.”

My lips turned up. “What else?”

His forehead puckered. “The first time I bungee jumped. I didn’t like that someone else had measured the line, decided how far I’d go. It wasn’t fun, putting my life in someone’s hands like that.”

“But you did it.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” My fingers slid along the dragon’s spine that curved outside his pec, and down the tail that outlined his abs. I stopped short of the spiked ending that led to his incredible fuck-me lines, remembering not to torture him more.

He sucked in his breath as my fingers moved back up. “Because I knew it would haunt me if I didn’t. Because I knew there was something exquisite waiting just past the fear if I could get there.”