She winced when I moved her backward toward the bed, and I remembered her bad ankle. I lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs around me. But instead of placing her on the mattress, I turned toward the wall next to the stove and put her back against it. And without stopping to think, I pushed inside her.
She cried out with every deep, powerful thrust, her nails clawing at my back. I buried my face in her neck and my cock in her body and lost every ounce of control I’d ever had. I knew I should stop, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. God help me, I didn’t want to. The feeling of being inside her with no barrier, nothing between us, was so incredible I actually didn’t even fucking care what the consequences might be. I just wanted to be that close to her. I wanted to fill her body with mine. I wanted to do something I’d never done before—and I’d never had sex without protection, ever—and share something with her I’d never shared with anyone and fuck, fuck, fuck, it was so good and she was so hot and she wanted me, she wanted me badly enough to give in like this, and move like that, and make those sounds and say those words . . .
“Don’t stop,” she begged, her breath hot on my lips. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop . . .”
I cursed and groaned and fucked her harder, so hard I was afraid I’d hurt her or we’d take out the wall or possibly shake the foundations of the Pineview Motel so violently the whole place would be reduced to rubble and we’d die here.
I did not want to die here.
But I didn’t want to stop either.
“Fuck!” I spun around and moved toward the bed, where I deposited her onto her back. “Don’t move.”
“Hurry,” she panted.
I ran over to my bag and tore open the new box of condoms. As I rolled one on, the touch of my own fingers threatened to push me over the edge, and I prayed she was as close as I was. Vaulting onto the bed from where I stood, I stretched out above her.
She wrapped her arms and legs around me, her lips parting, her breath quick and shallow. I lowered my mouth to hers as I eased inside her again, thinking the condom was probably a good thing—maybe the barrier would take away just enough sensation to grant me an extra minute or two before I lost control.
This time, instead of pounding inside her like a maniac, I went a little slower, reveling in the feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips. If I never had this with her again, I wanted to remember every little detail.
The way she rocked her hips beneath mine. The way she clung to my shoulders. The way the dark, damp strands of her hair spilled onto the pillow. The soft whispers, the sharp cries, her head falling back, the arch of her spine, the tightening of her body around my driving cock.
And then I couldn’t hold back anymore, and the room went silver as I plunged into her again and again, until I was empty and breathless, nothing but hammering heart and shuddering muscles and warm, tingling skin.
“Good idea.” Her voice was muffled, and I realized it was because her face was buried under my chest.
I lifted my upper body off her. “This was your idea.”
“I meant about the condom,” she panted.
“Oh. That. Yeah.” I still couldn’t catch my breath, and I wasn’t sure if it was from exertion or from the way her warm brown eyes were looking up at me with actual affection.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“Me neither, at least not at first. I was in shock.”
“I bet.” She laughed. “I figured that would surprise you.”
“It did. I thought you said—”
“I changed my mind.”
“What was it, the ice? The sweatshirts? The cooking?”
“It wasn’t anything in particular. I just thought it would be fun.” She pushed against my chest. “And it was, but let me up now.”
“No.”
“What? Gianni, I can’t breathe.”
I rolled onto my back but kept my arms around her, pulling her closer to my side. “There. Now fucking snuggle with me, dammit. I know I haven’t showered in thirty-six hours, but deal with it.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re insane.” But she pulled the covers over us and stayed where she was, laying her head on my shoulder. “And you actually still smell good.”
I didn’t, but I liked that she thought so. “See? Isn’t this nice?”
“I suppose it’s kind of nice.” Then she gasped. “We didn’t leave the stove on, did we?”