He stretched her wide, without a hint of resistance.
Pressing his brow to hers, he groaned. “Jesus, you feel incredible. I’m not going to last long. I’m sorry. You’ve got me torn in two here.”
She pulled him into another impassioned kiss, sighing when he began to thrust in soft bumps. “You don’t have to,” she whispered against his lips. “Not if I can press my cries into your skin all night.”
He pulled back, his gaze seeking. “Is that a dare?” he asked, holding her up with one arm and reaching between their bodies to thumb her clit.
“Yes,” she gasped, her orgasm building, beginning to break through. “It’s a…dare.”
When it hit, she clung to him, muscles jumping, skin sizzling, body pulsing around him. The world shrank to just the two of them, narrowing to the point where they were joined and nothing else. His words were hot in her ear, his tongue in her mouth, his teeth on her skin, all seeking to stretch her pleasure until it teetered on the edge of pain.
He held her through the fury, his thrusts gentle until she’d ridden out the storm.
Then he was mad with it, his hunger threatening to eclipse hers. His speech unintelligible, his kiss uneven, his thrusts desperate. Though they moved in a balanced show of beauty, two bodies in flawless alignment.
Atthe end, with an oath, he lifted her off the door when it began to violently creak.
When they finished on the floor, his tremors rippling through her, skin slick, breathing ragged. Seconds passed as they gasped, a clock somewhere in the room ticking off time. When Fontana began to laugh, he joined in, collapsing beside her.
“You're going to kill me, Quinn,” he whispered, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Seriously. Dead. Thank God everyone else is on another floor of this damn house.”
She rolled to face him, propping her head on her hand. His hair was tousled, his cheeks flushed, his pupils—when he turned to look at her—so large they nearly swallowed the gold. He was resplendent. And for the moment, he washers. “I think I have another in me. If I give you, say, an hour, can you do it?”
“Did you not hear the killing me part?”
Fontana trailed her finger down his chest, smiling when his body arched into the touch. “Any way you’d like me, how about that?”
Campbell caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. His eyes were wide, filled with lust and interest. “Any?”
She tilted her head. “Let’s say I’m willing to negotiate.”
chapter
eighteen
Karma Police –Radiohead
CAMPBELL
He knew this was more.
Home.
Not the house or the fields surrounding the Rise. Not his condo in Atlanta. Not anything as tangible as acres of land or goddamn photographs.
Being wrapped in Fontana’s arms—or rather, her inhis—was starting to feel like home.
An unparalleled notion for a man who’d spent the last fifteen years in transit.
The slightest hint of twilight blue, not far from the color of her eyes, mingled with the dusky pitch outside the window. Dawn was almost upon them, and Campbell admitted to a sensation uncomfortably close to fear.
But not for the usual reasons.
He didn’t want to let this woman go.
“I can hear you thinking up there,” she whispered into thevoid.
He twisted a strand of her hair around his finger, lifted it to his nose, and inhaled—pure magic. Lemons and honeysuckle, earthy,her. “This haircut is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
