She glanced up to see me watching her, drinking her in. Her eyes flared, and she carefully set the necklace aside and moved around the table to sit in my lap. Her hands went into my hair. I loved her hands in my hair. She’d changed hers a few weeks ago—the microbraids were replaced by thicker ones she called box braids.
More for me to grip.
“Bibi went to visit a friend down the street,” I said. “We have twenty minutes.”
Shiloh’s fingertips traced my lips. “Mmm, you can do a lot of damage in twenty minutes. Shut the door.”
She stood up while I did as she asked, and then we reached for each other in the dim space, the lantern casting a yellow light. I took a handful of thicker, soft braids and gently pulled her head back, exposing her throat. Her pulse was a flickering beat in the hollow of her collarbone. I put my mouth there, savoring the taste of her that was salty and sweet.
“God, Ronan… How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make me want you so bad.”
Her fingers raked through my hair, cradling my head, and she moaned as I worked over the delicate skin of her neck, biting, grazing, licking, until I was at her mouth again. I kissed her deep, my tongue exploring every corner, tasting her until we were both out of breath.
Our eyes met, and she nodded.
I spun her around and held her to me, my mouth on the delicate skin behind her ear, biting. She gasped and braced herself on the table.
“Please, Ronan. Hurry…”
I slid my hands down her back and hiked up her dress, a lacy thong the only thing between me and what I wanted.
“Take that off,” I ordered, reaching for my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans and retrieving the condom.
“Bossy, aren’t we?” she breathed and stepped out of the thong.
“You wear a lot of skirts,” I grunted, freeing my rock-hard erection and rolling the condom down.
“You’re just now noticing? I don’t own a single pair of jeans.”
“Don’t start,” I said and pushed myself inside her.
Shiloh moaned, and her entire body shuddered. “Oh God. So good. So good…”
I took hold of her hips, trying to restrain myself, though I wanted to take her hard. To try to do the impossible and satiate my hunger for her.
“Harder,” she breathed. “Make it rough.”
Her words fueled me, driving me senseless. I ran my hand up her spine, over the bunched material of her dress, until I found skin. I gripped her shoulder and pulled, arching her back and holding her there, halfway out of my mind with how good it felt to be inside her. Sometimes, I thought Shiloh letting me into her body was the only salvation I had.
“Yes…” she managed, and I moved harder, faster. She began to moan, then cry out at each thrust.
“Your neighbors will hear…”
Shiloh glanced at me over her shoulder. “Then you’d better do something about it.”
My hand moved to her mouth, covering it and stifling her cries. She whimpered, and then I felt the hot, wet softness of her tongue sliding between my fingers.
Fuck.
I held her pinned, one hand on her hip, the other clamped on her mouth, yet Shiloh was fucking wreckingme.
We came almost together, my hands falling away to brace myself on the table, my chest molded to her as we shuddered.
“Jesus Christ,” Shiloh breathed.