He took. She gave. The bed was their canvas, their bodies the brushes creating a masterpiece of pleasure.
When Trace felt the familiar trembles of her second climax approaching, he used all the strength he possessed to hold himself back long enough to make sure she fell off that ledge again.
“I’m close.” Emma panted beneath him breathlessly.
He picked up the pace. Each thrust growing faster and harder than the one before. Sliding a hand to where their bodies were joined, Trace found her clit swollen and ready, once more.
Moving his fingertips in small, tight circles, it didn’t take long for her to get there.
“Oh, god!” Emma’s nails dug into his shoulders.
Tingles raced down his spine, the tightening in his balls a signal that he was seconds away from losing control.
“That’s it, Ems.” He panted. Sweat beaded on his forehead from his efforts to hold himself back. “I’ve got you, baby. Just...let...go.”
“Trace!”
“Emma!”
Their climaxes struck simultaneously. Emma threw her head back as she screamed his name. Trace’s muscles locked up as he growled hers.
Minutes later, they were lying next to one another, their lungs and hearts working to return to a normal rate.
“You were wrong, you know,” Emma spoke with a sated, languid tone.
“About?”
Sliding to her side, she faced him with a smile. “That was the closest to Heaven I’ve ever been.”
Knowing she was referring to his earlier comment when they’d been outside on the patio, Trace tucked some wayward strands behind her ear and whispered, “Me, too.”
Hating to leave her for even a second, Trace made himself get up and go into the bathroom. After taking care of the condom and cleaning himself up, he walked back into the room and froze.
Emma was lying in the middle of the bed. Her eyes were closed, the sheets and blankets strewn about as evidence of their shared passion.
And out of nowhere, he was struck with an intense, emotional wave that damn near knocked him on his ass.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to him. Hell, he’d been thinking earlier about how impossible the whole insta-love bullshit was.
But as he stared at the woman who’d given him more pleasure in an hour’s time than all of the women from his past combined, he was no longer able to deny it.
He was Trace Winters. A coldhearted operative who didn’t need anyone but himself. Guys like him didn’t fall in love.
But damn, if he wasn’t already halfway there.