Love Bug (The Prescotts Book 3) by Tara Wyatt (electric book reader .TXT) 📗

second time that night and claimed her mouth in a hot, deep kiss. She could’ve stayed like that with him forever—his cock moving inside her in a steady, deep rhythm, filling her up so perfectly that she was terrified nothing else would ever compare to this. His mouth on hers, the sounds of his moans and sharp exhales, the scent of their sex filling the room. She wanted to pause time and stay here. Right here.

“Willa,” he breathed, his hips moving faster as he started to lose control. It was so hot, watching all of that careful composure melt away because of her. “God, Willa.” He buried his face in her neck, his mouth hot on her skin as he took her hard and deep. “Oh, fuck, Willa, sweetheart, I’m not going to last much longer,” he said, his voice a growl she felt in her stomach. “You feel too good.”

It was his words that sent her over the edge one last time, her orgasm sparkling over her skin like fairy dust. Max calling her sweetheart, telling her how good she felt meant more to her than she had the ability to process right now.

“Max!” She screamed out his name as the orgasm continued to pulse through her, making her ripple around him, as though her body were trying to pull him even deeper.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Come all over my cock. Fucking hell, Willa.” He ground out the last words, and she clung to him as he moved faster, thrusting into her harder and deeper, the sound of their tangled moans and the wet slide of his cock in and out of her clenching pussy the only sounds in the room. After a few more deep thrusts, his hips jerked and he slammed into her one last time. She felt his cock pulse inside her and he shuddered with his release, moaning her name. The sound of her name, said with a growling moan in that low voice of his, was one of the hottest things she’d ever heard in her life.

He held completely still and worry gripped her as she wondered if he was already pulling away. Without a word, he slid out of her and retreated to the bathroom, and she didn’t know what to think or expect or even feel. She knew what she wanted, knew how she felt about him. But her feelings weren’t the whole story here. Not by a long shot. A part of her reveled in the fact that she’d probably be sore. She wanted to feel him tomorrow. Wanted to keep that reminder of tonight, because she had a feeling all of the walls were going to come slamming back down tomorrow morning.

She’d never wanted so badly in her life to be wrong.

After a moment, Max returned, and still naked, he slipped into bed and pulled her into his arms, settling her against his warm chest. Exhaustion fell over her like a blanket, and with Max’s heart beating steadily against her cheek, she dropped into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

3

Max’s eyes popped open, and he knew it was 5:05 AM without having to check his watch or his phone. He’d been getting up early for so long now that his internal alarm clock was infallible. He liked routine and predictability. He liked the simple clarity of it, the regimented discipline. He liked having control over everything—his environment, his schedule, himself.

He’d lost that carefully honed control last night. Fuck.

He glanced over at Willa, her face relaxed in sleep, her light brown hair falling across her eyes. She was so tiny, so delicate that she seemed almost like something unreal. Like an achingly beautiful vision, haunting in its loveliness. Her chest moved up and down steadily as she breathed, and he allowed himself the brief luxury of watching her. The sky outside was gray, the sunrise still over an hour away, but there was enough light that he could see her. She was so pretty with her heart shaped face, high cheekbones, pointed chin and delicate jawline. She was even prettier when she was awake, smiling that brilliant smile, her enormous hazel eyes flashing with intelligence and humor.

As he watched her, his chest started to hurt, a burning from somewhere deep inside and he exhaled sharply, closing his eyes. Last night should never have happened. Under any circumstances, even the terrifying ones of yesterday.

Doing his best not to disturb her, he slipped out of bed and quietly padded into his closet, where he retrieved a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He quickly pulled them on and then left the bedroom, closing the door behind him with a quiet click, partly because he wanted to let her sleep, and partly because he wasn’t ready to face her yet.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and then took the stairs two at a time up to his workout area. The open loft was his home gym, stocked with expensive equipment that he used regularly. It was where he came to think, when he was puzzling out a piece of code that wasn’t working, or thinking through a new business strategy. The mindlessness of lifting weights allowed his brain to switch off just enough that the solution would appear seemingly out of nowhere. He normally started his day with a run on the treadmill, watching the sun rise over the Manhattan skyline through the wall-to-wall windows, but he didn’t feel like running this morning. No, this morning he felt like hitting something, and so in a rare deviation from his routine, he found himself pulling on a pair of boxing gloves and circling the punching bag in the far corner of the room. He jabbed at it a few times, the contact satisfying, soothing the buzzing restlessness inside him.

God, he was such a fucking asshole. Yeah, he’d wanted Willa in his bed last night—hell, he’d wanted her in his bed pretty much since the first conversation he’d ever had with her. Every time