His breath is warm peppermint against my mouth, he smells of sweet sandalwood, and I’m reminded of us. Everything in the world turns right side up, just as it should be.
He kisses me softly, sensually. Both of our mouths are closed, yet the kiss is full of passionate abandon that presses a needy ache in my core. The elevator slows to a stop and it also means the end of our embrace. He leans his forehead down to mine. “Only ever you,” he says quietly, and a shudder of desire leaps in my stomach.
He pulls away and I follow him into his penthouse.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Sex.”
I laugh. “You’ve mentioned that once or twice.”
“I feel good, Reese. I’m ready.”
“I know you are. And I am, too.” I wander toward the windows. “But we have a lot of little details to think about.”
“Like what?”
“I know I’ve already jumped the gun and agreed to move in with you, but we’ve barely even dated. We’ve spent all of five days together. How do I date a rock star?”
He stands next to me by the windows but doesn’t touch me. “I’m just a regular guy, babe.”
I laugh. “No you aren’t.”
“Fine. A regular guy who’s maybe better looking than the average guy.”
“Maybe?” I gesture toward him. “Definitely.”
“What else?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you fishing for compliments again?”
He lifts a shoulder. “No. I just want to know what makes you think I’m any different from any other guy you’ve dated.”
My heart stutters a little at that thought considering his brother happens to be another guy I dated.
“You’ve got talent, fame, fortune, looks, and,” I glance down at his stomach, “Jesus Christ, those abs.”
He laughs.
“Seriously, though. You’ve got millions of adoring fans. You’re gone all the time on tour. You can’t just take me to dinner and a movie like a normal guy could.”
He nods, conceding. “I could rent out an entire theater for you and have dinner brought in.”
I laugh. “I know you could. But that’s not what this is about.”
“I get it. Being with me...it won’t ever be normal.” He turns his gaze back out the window. “That birthday present you gave me was the best gift anyone has ever given me, and it took that to show me something I’d been blind to.”
I so badly want him to turn toward me, to let me see his eyes. Instead, he’s focused on the people walking the sidewalks forty-seven stories below us.
“What?” I ask.
He turns toward me. “I may not be a regular guy. Our relationship may never be ordinary. But I’ve never known what normal was until you showed me. That’s what you are for me.”
“Normal?” My brows furrow down low and my voice comes out with a bitter twist to it. I’m not sure why, but I feel a little insulted by his words. I don’t want to be normal for him. I want to be special.
He nods. “You provide order in my disorderly mind. You provide logic in an irrational world. You give me a sense of home just in being who you are. Routine. Structure. Tradition.” He finally turns his head to look at me, and the genuine affection I see there blows me away. “I’ve never had those things, Reese, but now that I’ve had you back with me for a few days, I realize how much I need them.” He closes the gap between us and pulls me into his arms. “Need you.”
His eyes focus on mine, hot and full of hope, lust, love, and pure fight, and that’s the moment I know I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work with him.
“I want you naked in my bedroom,” he says. “I want to show you what you mean to me, and I want to do it this time knowing it’s not to say goodbye.”
* * *
After everything we’ve been through, it’s finally time. This is how he asked for me, so this is how I stand. I’m completely naked, my back against the windows overlooking Las Vegas Boulevard in his bedroom. It’s just after nine at night. The sun has gone down, but the city is enveloped in lights on the other side of the window.
I twitch nervously as I wait for him. A lot rides on this moment. We’ve spent the day together doing normal things after the very unusual activity of flying on a private jet from Chicago to Vegas. Having a conversation, eating at Denny’s, stopping at the doctor, running to my place...all things that normal couples might do even though we’re far from normal.
And now, this. Another thing normal couples do, but somehow it will be extraordinary as well.
When the door finally opens and he emerges from his bathroom, he’s wearing just a pair of jeans. I want to kiss him and worship him. I want to run my tongue along every single centimeter of his body.
I take a tentative step toward him, but he holds up his hand as if to say I should stop and stay where I am. I freeze and wait for him.
He strides across the room toward me leisurely, as if a mountain of pressure doesn’t hang on this exchange between us, as if we haven’t both built this up in our minds to be something bigger and better than it was before.
But he’s the one who can ever maintain his cool, the one who can put on the act like he’s in total control. He is in total control, always disciplined despite his flaws and the occasional mistakes that he assured me won’t happen again.
His fingertips skim my jaw. I close my eyes and let out a soft sigh.
“God, Reese,” he whispers, the strain evident even in his quiet voice. I open my eyes to him just like I’ve opened my heart to him—only him. I stare into his green depths, and I see everything I need to see. Most importantly, I see a future for us.
His mouth moves down to mine and he kisses me slowly, his tongue circling mine. He rocks his hips against me, the full hardness of his erection through his jeans grinding against my most sensitive skin.
He massages my breasts in his palms before he runs his hands along the tips, grabbing them in a decadent twist that causes me to cry out with pleasure before he lets go. He soothes the ache with the pad of his finger before repeating the process over again, every twist and tug sending a delicious ache through to my core.
I’m panting, breathless, and he’s only kissed me and touched my breasts. As his tongue continues to brush against mine, his fingers trail down. He slides a finger through my slickness, grunting when he feels how wet I am. He pulls his finger to the front to massage my clit before gliding back through. He doesn’t push it in, and my needy body aches for him.
I grind my hips down on his hand as I search for some sweet relief, but he drops his hand instead of giving me more. I moan in deprived disappointment, and I feel his grin against my own lips.
“You’re impatient tonight,” he murmurs. “Guess I better get moving.”
I chuckle, but truth be told, I don’t want him to go any faster. I want this to last forever.
He grabs me up into his arms and carries me to the bed. He sets me down softly then he gets rid of his jeans and climbs over me. He hovers above me for one sweet moment before he lowers his head to kiss me. Our bodies aren’t connected yet apart from our mouths, and I feel my release sneaking up on me. The buildup not just from today but from the all the days since the last time we’ve done this come between us. I push it all to the past as I focus on him and me and this connection we share.
“Are you sure about this?” he asks. I know he’s talking about sex without a condom, that conversation we had at Denny’s.
I nod. I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life, but the emotions in the back of my throat prevent me from saying that.
“Thank fuck because I’ve never been so hard in my life,” he says, reminding me how long it’s been for him, too.
He glides his swollen head through me, and I jerk forward in anticipation. He strokes himself a few times against my clit, and the illicit feeling of skin on skin pushes me over the edge. I’m about to come when he glides down and slips inside me.
The raw feeling is unbelievably smooth. He pumps his hips back and forth, driving into me and pushing me closer to release.
“God, I missed you so much,” he murmurs. His voice is laced with all the same emotions I feel.
He grunts at the same time a low moan rumbles out of my chest, a sound I can’t control even if I wanted to. I gasp and pant for him as I claw my nails into his back and dig my heels into his ass, anything to draw any part of him closer to any part of me. I push my hips up to meet his thrusts. He’s in control and disciplined when I just want him to hammer away at me, to push me into the headboard and into next week, but I know he won’t because he wants to draw this out. It must be beyond painful for him, but if he goes fast, we both lose. Instead, he’s slow and deliberate, each powerful thrust punctuated by a low groan.
“It’s so fucking good, Reese,” he says. “I could fuck you like this forever.”
His words are broken by the grunts of his thrusts. He groans out a loud growl when I scratch my nails across his skin, but my body is acting totally on instinct at this point. I try to respond, try to tell him I want that, too, but all that comes out is some broken moan followed by a series of gasps.
He starts to drive in a little faster, pushing me closer and closer to my release. His thumb comes between us to stroke against my clit, and that’s when I lose all control. I yell out his name or something like it along with a series of words that might sound something like Oh-fuck-fuck-Mark-shit-fuck-oh-oh-oh, and he matches my sounds with a series of his own oh-fuck-fuck-Reese-shit-fuck-oh-oh-ohs. He thrusts in a little more forcefully a few times before he stops and holds himself still as he spills into me. The feeling pushes me right into my own orgasm, my body pulsing around him and contracting, prolonging his release. We match each other’s moans, an erotic soundtrack of pleasure playing in my ears as we both lose ourselves in the carnal perfection of the other.
He hovers over me for a beat, his eyes hot on mine, before he pulls out of me and collapses beside me, tossing one arm over my chest.
“Holy fuck, Reese,” he mutters after a few quiet minutes pass between us. He doesn’t move, and his voice is muffled by my shoulder. “That was...”
He doesn’t have the words. The man who writes words for millions of people to hear every single day doesn’t have the words.
I supply the phrase he’s looking for. “Even better than bacon.”
He laughs. “Wow, that means a lot. You even bacon-moaned for me.”
“Damn right I did. But I think you have it backwards.”
“I do?” He sits up to rest on his elbow.
I nod. “I Mark-moaned for bacon once.”
He laughs and covers my mouth with his.