“I do love f**king you.” He pulled a fresh condom out of the nightstand drawer and rolled it on. “When I’m not inside you, I’m thinking about it.”
Setting his hands on her inner thighs, he pushed into her. She whimpered, her tender p**sy tightened by her recent orgasms.
“God, you feel good,” he breathed. “I’ve needed you so much.”
His size, so long and thick, was perfect. As if he’d been made for her. Pushing onto her elbows, Robin watched his glistening c*ck pull free. The heavily veined length was as brutal looking as the rest of him. The sight of it turned her on further. It made her feel powerfully feminine, like a freakin’ sex goddess, to incite the raging lust of a man who was so potently masculine and primal in his sexuality.
Robin’s tongue traced the curve of her lower lip. “Please,” she whispered, feeling empty without him. She’d been feeling empty since she walked out on him, physically and emotionally.
He sank back into her with a low hiss of pleasure. “You’re so sexy, baby. So damn perfect and beautiful. I have no f**king idea what you’re doing with a guy like me, but I’m grateful. Every damned day.”
God help her. She loved him so much.
He tugged the tie at her waist and pushed the two halves of her dress open. He released the center clasp of her bra, freeing her br**sts into his waiting palms. Her p**sy tightened around him, echoing the gentle rolling of her n**ples between his talented fingers.
“I’m so sorry.” He was flushed and shiny with sweat, his beautiful hazel eyes as red as hers felt. “So damn f**king sorry that I ever let you think, for even a moment, that you were nothing but a convenient piece of ass to me. I loved you the moment I saw you. I should have told you—”
“I need things from you.” She wrapped her hands around his wrists, anchoring herself as the pleasure threatened to sweep her away.
“I know.” His h*ps rocked in a slow and easy tempo. “I need things from you, too.”
That caught her. She wanted him to need her. She wanted to be valuable to him, to serve a purpose in his life. To share his life. “Such as?”
“I need your travel schedule.” His lips kicked into a smile when she scowled. “So I can plan my trips to match up with yours. And I need you to move in with me. Your jewelry business is you, right? You can design your pieces anywhere?”
Robin nodded, unable to speak while he was saying everything she’d longed to hear and f**king her so perfectly. The fluid, rhythmic plunges of his c*ck were driving her half out of her mind. Her entire body was straining with the need to come, her h*ps lifting to meet his downstrokes. He was so hard and it felt so good to be with him again. To smell the scent of his skin and feel his flesh beneath her hands.
“I’m stuck for now with the brewery in Portland.” His words slurred slightly as the pleasure built for him, too. “But if you don’t like the city or the house or anything, I’ll go where you’re happy. I just need time, time I don’t want to spend without you.”
“Harder,” she urged, grabbing his taut perfect ass in her hands. Her neck arched, her head pressing into the bedding as her cli**x hovered just out of reach. “Fuck me hard.”
Gripping her waist, Paul gave her what she needed. His aggressive strokes set her off in a rush.
“I’m right there with you,” he groaned, driving powerfully into her. He made that sexy little noise that made her hot, a cross between a grunt and a hum that said more than words how much pleasure she gave him. “Right there… Right. There.”
His gaze locked with hers as he came, the heady rush of pleasure shared between them.
“I love you,” he grated, shaking with the force of his cli**x.
She couldn’t look away, daring to believe.
* * *
Paul got her nak*d. Robin missed how he accomplished the feat while in her euphoric postcli**x haze, but she was grateful for the result. She lay curled against his side, her legs tangled with his. Her head lay on his chest, her fingertips tracing her name imprinted in his skin.
“I was going to f**k you and walk out,” she confessed.
“I caught that.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I wouldn’t have let you leave. I would’ve followed you with my junk hanging out if I had to and hauled you back.”
She lifted her head. “Like I’d ever let other women get an eyeful of you.”
Paul smiled. “I’m all yours, honey. Flaws, baggage, and all.”
Her hand stilled and settled over his heart. “You’re not ready, Paul. I wish you were.”
“The counselor I’ve been talking to says otherwise.”
Robin’s heartbeat skipped. “Counselor?”
He nodded. “I’ll need to keep seeing him for a while, but I know enough about what losing Curt did to me to have my head on straight again.”
Her heart ached for the tragedy he’d suffered. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to outlive your child.
His fingers linked with hers. “I should have talked to someone a lot sooner, most especially after I started seeing you. It wasn’t fair to you that I didn’t.”
“You can’t take all the blame,” she said softly. “When we started out, our arrangement was perfect for me, too. No strings, hot sex, and a guy who listened to me ramble on about jewelry. Things were fine until I changed my expectations.”
He reached over with his free hand and opened the nightstand drawer. She thought he might be reaching for a condom, and her pulse quickened. Then a dark blue velvet box appeared in her line of vision, and her heart stopped altogether.
Paul set the box on his washboard abs and took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to buy an engagement ring for a jewelry designer who’s kicked your ass to the curb?”
Unable to help herself, she reached for the box.
“Wait,” he said, staying her. “Going back to the list of things I need from you… I need you to marry me, Robin. The next time we leave this room, I want us to come back to it as man and wife. I promise you’ll have the wedding of your dreams, with our friends and family and doves and swans and whatever the hell you want, but I’d really like the vows now—today—and getting married here in Vegas feels like it fits us.”
Us. She looked at him with wide eyes, her mind telling her how crazy that was. There were so many courtship steps they were skipping. What they’d had in their year together—not counting the four miserable months apart—was emails, phone calls, six days a month of the hottest sex of her life…
…and a sharp, pure feeling of connection that had hit them both like lightning the moment they’d laid eyes on each other.
“I know it’s crazy,” he said, reading her mind as he so often did. “But we’ve been crazy over each other from the start. I’m lovesick over you, baby. I swear you’ll never regret taking a chance on me. I’ll make you happier than you’ve ever been in your life.”
Swallowing hard, she thumbed open the box.
“Oh, Paul,” she breathed, her fingers shaking.
“Do you like it?” His rich, deep voice was laced with a rare note of anxiety. “We can exchange it if you don’t. You can pick out whatever you want. Something more traditional maybe—”
“Shut up.” The ring was perfect. It was unusual, almost quirky, with a massive diamond—around four carats was her educated guess—surrounded by irregular swirls of multisized rubies.