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  “What do you mean?”

  They reached the shore as she answered, Russell’s footsteps eating up the sand on his way to the closest cabana. “I’m still figuring it out. But . . . I know when you tied me up, I realized that’s what I’d wanted all along.” She rested her forehead against his. “Does that make sense?”

  His heart squeezed, then boomed louder. Faster. Some part of him had known all along she was made for him. These unfamiliar impulses she’d woken inside him corresponded to hers. They couldn’t be wrong if she needed them, too, right? “Yes . . . I think it does make sense, angel. I hope like hell it does.”

  They reached the cabana, and Russell shouldered past the hanging canvas that kept the inside private. Side-by-side beach chairs, reclined to their flat position, were just inside, and he quickly picked the left one, laying Abby down. When she kept her arms wrapped around him, he had no choice but to descend with her. Their positions stayed the same, but when laid vertical, his dick shoved between her thighs with five times the pressure and friction.

  “Ahhh, fuck.” He captured her wrists and locked them over her head, giving her a tight twist of his hips. “I’m not a duke, Abby.”

  Her eyes popped open on a moan. “W-what?”

  No way. No way he’d just said that out loud. Russell dropped his head into the crook of her neck, using the opportunity to feel her pulse against his lips. Because any second now, she’d realize she’d entrusted her virginity to a guy who took pointers from imaginary noblemen. “I, uh.” She ran her fingertips up his spine, and nothing had ever felt so amazing in his life. “My brother’s wife leaves these books lying around. Romance novels. And this duke—his name is Sebastian, but that’s not important—he . . . it was his girl’s first time. He went so slow, letting her get used to his . . . manhood.” Russell reached between their bodies and palmed Abby’s breasts. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

  “Manhood?” Her body vibrated with laughter. “You read a romance novel for me?”

  Slowly, he shook his head. “I’d kill for you, Abby.”

  When her smile vanished, Russell wished he could snatch back the words, bury them back down where they belonged. At least, he wished it until she pushed up on her elbows and kissed him. Her tongue licked against his, slow and sweet, the teasing action making his dick thicken, an effect she felt right between her thighs, if the sexy purr she let out was any indication. “Russell,” she said, in a shaky whisper, “there might also be such a thing as going too slow.”

  “I’ll remind you of that in a few minutes.” He slipped his hands down her rib cage, snagging the edges of her bathing suit. “I need a hit of that pussy first. It’s had me on edge all fucking day, wondering when I’m going to get a lick.” Russell moved to a kneeling position, growling at the way her bathing suit’s material hugged her core. Was it possible to be jealous of a piece of clothing? Yeah. When it came to her, anything was possible. Russell stripped the black suit down her legs and tossed it aside, every ounce of his blood rushing south at the site of her. Bare and waiting. “Come on, angel. I want those knees pointed at opposite ends of the beach.”

  His harsh speech started her tits rising and falling with deep gulps of breath. A naked, beautiful, goddamn sight he could feel branding itself in his memory bank. But she hesitated. “I’m . . . are you supposed to put your mouth there when I’m already so wet?”

  Praying like hell he wouldn’t come in his board shorts, Russell pushed her thighs open and fell on her with a groan. A groan that didn’t stop as he lapped at Abby, delved his tongue inside her heat and worshipped that tiny bud with his lips. He swore he could taste her shyness, and it cranked his lust to a fevered state, giving him no choice but to release his cock, the hungry weight of it dropping down onto the reclined chair. “Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone down on you.” He licked up her belly, over the taut flesh between her tits. When he reached Abby’s neck, he scraped his teeth up and down the sensitive skin, his way of comforting her while his knuckles dragged over her pussy. “How am I going to hold off on fucking you hard when I can taste how much you want it?”

  “I don’t know.” She arched her back. “P-please keep doing that.”

  Russell braced himself to have his fingers inside Abby for the first time. “You know how many times I’ve fantasized about slipping my hand into your panties and giving you an orgasm?” He rotated his finger and added another, pushing into her tight entrance with a curse. “The one that always gets me off is picturing you on my lap in the bar, while I stroke your clit under the table.” He followed through on his words with a rough thumb, gritting his teeth as she jolted on the chair. “Would you have played along, Abby? Let me finger-fuck you beneath one of those loose skirts?”

  “Yes.” Her belly hollowed and shook, her hands grabbing at his wrist, pressing his touch closer. “I would have done anything. I’ll do anything.”

  “Do anything for what?”

  Like she’d been transported straight from his filthiest subconscious, she threw both arms over her head and begged him beneath heavy eyelids. “You know what I need, Russell. You always know.”

  That was the end of going slow. He slid both fingers from inside her, using them to circle her clit, faster and faster. “Come. Come so I can give you the real thing.”

  As always when she climaxed, her heels dug in, hips lifting. He fucking loved knowing that about her. Loved knowing that no one else would ever know but him. Dampness met his fingers as she twisted on the chair. “Russell. Feels so good.”

  A drumbeat ricocheted around his skull. He didn’t even register positioning himself between her thighs until he was there, running the head of his dick through her wetness. Need need need. With one hand, he shoved the confining shorts down and felt a hard slap against his thigh. His wallet. Condom. Condom. Jesus, what if he’d forgotten? Hoping Abby hadn’t noticed his almost slip, Russell drew out the leather wallet and ripped out the single condom, opening it with his teeth.

  She shifted beneath him. “Do you always carry those with you?”

  He marveled over the touch of self-consciousness in her voice. Had he not made it clear as crystal that other girls might as well be invisible for all the attention he paid them? If she hadn’t gotten the message, they weren’t moving forward until she did. “Give me your hand,” he demanded, rising up over her. When she did as he asked without question, he curled her fingers around his dick. “I bought them the night you hurt your ankle.” He watched that sink in. “I knew I’d never be able to say no if we got here. And what is my job, angel?”

  “Worrying about me,” she murmured into the near darkness. “Protecting me.”

  “That’s right.” Slowly, he thrust his cock into her grip. “Abby’s. That’s Abby’s.”

  Eyes unfocused, she grazed his sides with her knees. “Show me.”

  Russell rolled on the latex, then fisted his hardness. He pushed the tip inside her, stopping when a shudder wracked him. “I’m afraid to hear you scream. I don’t want to know what a bad scream sounds like from you.” He aligned their bodies, both of their skin having grown slick in the summer heat. “If you need to, do it into my shoulder.”

  Abby nodded and placed her lips where he’d indicated. They plumped against his shoulder, reminding him they’d been on his dick just hours earlier. Don’t even think about a replay, or you’ll never last. The anticipation, the excitement in her eyes, the churning need for release clawing to get out became too much, and he shoved deeper, wincing at the tight fit. Something else was happening, too. A bone-deep impulse to ram himself home and lay claim to her in an irreversible way. Dammit, this is what he’d been terrified of. This ever-present conflict when it came to Abby. Never—ever—wanting to harm her while experiencing the sense that she wanted an unknown amount of . . . force.

  “Russell, more plea—”

  He drove his remaining inches inside Abby, her choked cry splitting the air between them. His instincts propelled him forward to cut it o
ff with his mouth. Comforting words tried to find their way up his throat, but the pleasure choked him, made it impossible to speak. He hadn’t been ready. Never would have been ready for the tight clutch of her pussy, the sensation of her feet digging into his ass. Was she struggling or attempting to move, to get closer? He couldn’t hear or discern a goddamn thing over the rushing between his ears. Wake up, asshole.

  “I won’t move. I won’t. Just tell me when—”

  “Now. Now, please.”

  “Thank fuck,” he growled, rearing back with his hips and fucking into her with a satisfying slap of damp flesh. “Ahhh God. Am I hurting you?” How would he stop if he was? It would be worse than losing a limb. Getting impatient for a response, he pushed her knees up toward her elbows and bore down. “An answer, Abby.”

  “A little. It hurts a little.” Her teeth raked over her bottom lip. “But if you stop, it’ll hurt worse. Please.”

  Not helping. She was as conflicted as him. “I waited too long. Let it build up too much. All this fucking want.” Another tether inside him snapped loose, setting free the enveloping need to shake the confusion out of them both, force a decision. Russell lost his grip on control, or maybe he did it voluntarily. In one hand, he pinned Abby’s wrists over her head, bringing them face-to-face. A flicker of relief and encouragement made her eyes sparkle. Please don’t let me be imagining it. With the opposite hand, he gripped her jaw and tilted her head back in a single, rough movement. When he spoke, it was right up against her ear. “What did I tell you in my house that day, Abby? What do I want to do to you?”

  He could feel the pulse in her neck racing, beating against the base of his hand. Trapped. He had her trapped, but she liked it. Her hips moved in restless figure eights beneath him, entreating him to thrust. Those heels were doing their thing, trying to find purchase on the backs of his thighs. “You . . .” She sucked in a breath, pushing her pointed tits into his chest. “You said you want to bang my little virgin brains out.”

  “I meant it.” Attempting to bring himself down from the insane high of hearing those forbidden words out of Abby’s innocent mouth, Russell licked past her lips for a searing kiss. It didn’t work. All he could feel was the hot sensation of her pussy contracting around him. Pulse. Pulse. “Are you doing that? Are you . . . stop.”

  “No.” Her swallow was audible because of the angle he still held her jaw. “You’re thinking too hard. We both know what . . . what you need. I need to be the one who gives it to you. Don’t take that away from me.” She writhed on the chair, gasping when he tightened his hold automatically.

  “Stay still.”

  He hated the almost total darkness and loved it simultaneously. Wanted to see her face in the light but didn’t want her to see his. As he released her jaw and used both hands to pin her, he had to look like an animal. He felt like one. He jerked his hips back and slammed forward, groaning at the welcoming slickness. The narrow perfection of her. Abby’s cry was absorbed by his chest, and fuck, he loved that. Loved looking down and seeing her beneath him, feeling the vibration of his name as it passed her lips.

  “Yes,” she moaned. “Again.”

  If any remaining reservations still had a foothold, they slipped down the slope on which he’d been desperately attempting to balance. He didn’t recognize the words or sounds that left his mouth as he fucked Abby, the girl he loved. Their bodies slid up and down against one another, moving in a frantic rhythm. His cock felt so full already, ready to spill, and Abby did nothing to help postpone the inevitable, wrapping her long legs around him and begging, begging. God, she was so gorgeous he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t deal with her beauty on top of the driving demand to claim her body. Satisfy her. Himself.

  Knowing he only had a small window to get her off, Russell released her manacled hands and wedged a forearm beneath her hips. “Tilt them up, angel. Same way you did when I used my mouth. We’re going to find that sweet spot, aren’t we? I might be banging my little virgin, but I’m going to make her come, too. Always. That’s another one of my jobs, and I love it. Your come is mine.”

  He broke off into a groan as Abby angled her hips with the aid of his lifting forearm. The new angle brought the base of his length into contact with her clit, and fuck . . . the unsteady whimper of his name almost made him bust. She threw her head back on the chair and started to roll her body, meeting his pumps with incredible accuracy.

  Meant to be with her. This was all part of some plan. His thoughts collided with his heart, sending it speeding out of control.

  Abby buried her fingernails into his ass, her thighs beginning to tremble around him. “I’m going to . . . oh my God, don’t stop. I’m . . .”

  Russell dropped his head forward and closed his eyes, putting all his focus into staying right where the fuck he was, not deviating from what was pushing her toward a climax. Just a little longer. Just a little—

  “Russell.”

  Holy shit. His eyes flew open in time to witness Abby’s tits shaking between them, her teeth buried into her bottom lip as she arched on the chair. Her heels had a firm hold at the small of his back as she rode it out, her pussy squeezing him in tiny spasms that he would crave like air for the rest of his time on earth.

  He was aching and swollen inside her, seconds from going off. There was no explanation for what he did next, only knew that it felt like a travesty to release into a condom. A waste of what she’d done to him. He wanted to mark her, brand her in a way that she might not understand or might find confusing, but as he pulled out of her still-convulsing body, tore off the condom, and expelled his pleasure on her tits, his brain registered it as something beautiful. Seeing Abby wearing the evidence of how much he’d wanted her for so long, how much he’d want her forever.

  After that, his muscles would no longer support him. He went down on an elbow beside Abby, kissing her shoulder until she turned on her side. His eyes searched in the darkness for something to clean her, making out a stack of towels just over their heads. He grabbed the terry-cloth material and ran it down Abby’s front, neck to belly, all the while rubbing his lips over her heated skin.

  “Russell?” Her sweet voice glittered in the darkness.

  He draped the towel over her body. “What is it, angel?”

  For long moment, he could only count her breaths. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

  His pulse tripped as he pulled her close, curved his body around her smaller one. I’m going to sleep with my girl next to me. “Yeah. I guess we do.”

  Understatement of the year. The list of things they needed to discuss seemed endless. The status of their relationship. Why he’d been pushing her away. How he planned to stop doing that and never let her go. Ever. There was also the nature of their sexual attraction, how they acted on it. He felt an urgency to ensure that his need to . . . dominate Abby was always done safely, because if he hurt her—

  No. He would never hurt her again.

  Not if he could help it.

  Chapter 15

  ABBY WOKE UP feeling a little sticky. And a lot amazing.

  She lay still without opening her eyes for long minutes, trapping all the sounds and sensations inside a net of coveted recollections. Russell warmed her back, one heavy arm thrown over her hips. Of course, he snored. Like his having chest hair, snoring seemed like something she should have known. But hadn’t she always been the one to fall asleep on him? Maybe she snored and didn’t even know it. She’d have to ask him when he woke up.

  Anticipation purred in her bloodstream at the idea of talking to Russell while they were both naked. Hearing what his voice sounded like upon waking.

  The smell of ocean and suntan lotion filled her nose as the events of last night projected themselves on the backs of her eyelids. Each image was sharp, their outlines carved out with a box cutter. And each one had the subtitle, I love Russell. She did. She’d loved him in different ways for a long time. But acknowledging it—defining what she’d been harboring for him all
along—made the feeling expand like a fleet of balloons. Big, colorful ones with the ability to carry her across the beach and ocean . . . anywhere she wanted to go.

  Abby pressed her fingers against her lips, felt the smile there. Her mouth parted on an intake of breath when the sensitivity between her thighs registered. Finally, her eyes opened and immediately fell upon the light bruises circling her wrists. Why did seeing the shaded marks send a feather tickling down the center of her belly? No, she knew now. Knew the reason imagining gentle, straightforward sex had never excited her. Why she’d always felt safer with her confusing fantasies of being taken hard. Restrained. They weren’t confusing anymore. At least, they were beginning to define themselves with every experience between her and Russell.

  Were his sexual preferences the reason he’d been keeping her at a distance? Abby brushed her lips over a thumb-sized bruise on her wrist. Of course, this man who spent an inordinate amount of time worrying for her safety would hate the idea of being aggressive with her. Or, hate the idea that he liked it, more accurately. Abby let out a relieved breath. Now that she knew what he’d been battling, she could play defense.

  Testing her well-used muscles, Abby felt a flush infuse her neck as she encountered the sticky feeling once again. Another, larger feather licked down her middle. Russell looming above her, growling as he marked her. She couldn’t wait to do it again. Today. This morning. Now.

  She lifted Russell’s arm off her body and sat up, noticing traces of blood on her inner thighs. Before they talked or touched each other again, she needed a shower. Maybe it was ridiculous to feel self-conscious around the man who’d been present for the cause. She’d have to work on that but felt no pressure to accomplish any more milestones at the moment, having reached a huge one last night.

  Abby laid the towel over Russell, muffling a laugh when his snoring amplified. She picked up another towel and wrapped it around herself, hoping no one would spy her on the short trek back to the house. Southampton residents typically didn’t rise this early, so she was probably safe. She’d shower, change, grab a set of clothes for Russell, and be back with coffee before he even woke up.