Page 70 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
His eyes dipped to where my bikini bottoms still hid the rest of me, and he looked ravenous. I could see his pupils flare in the dim lighting. With light fingers, Beck traced the edge where it hugged my hip. My legs nearly buckled at the desire that throbbed between them. His eyes caught mine, a silent question, Is this still okay?
I nodded. I would let Beck do just about anything to me. His fingers curled around the strings. He tugged, then peeled them off and let the bottoms pool at my feet. I stepped out and watched him consume me with his eyes.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” he said.
“Since the other night?” I shivered as he moved a strand of wet hair over my shoulder. “When we went dancing.”
I pressed Beck backward to the bed, and he let me, nearly stumbling over a floor cushion in the process, and then he took charge, easily hoisting me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, relishing the warmth radiating off his torso, burning away the biting rainwater.
He set me on the bed, spreading my legs so he could stand between them. His thumb brushed against my clit, and I arched off the mattress, the slightest movement both alleviating the need between my legs while simultaneously intensifying it.
“Oh, I was definitely turned on the other night,” he said, rubbing me with steady circles. “But I’ve been wanting you for months. In your living room when you worked on that mirror.” He bent to press a light kiss on my ribs. “When I confronted you for being a fraud at the office, and we stood so close, alone in that room,” he said into my skin. “Honestly, I think I was a goner when I first saw you in your swimsuit, telling me I was in your lane. I’ve been thinking about your thighs—dreaming about being between them ever since.”
Before his admission could fully hit me, he dipped a finger inside. I gasped.
“God,” he said thickly. “You are so wet.” He pushed the finger in until he was knuckle-deep, and at the same time, a flash of lightning lit beyond the canvas of the tent, matching how I’d felt, lit from within. He slid his finger out, only to add a second one, and I whimpered with the pressure. “And so tight.” He curled his fingers in, and I clenched against him, my body taut with pleasure and need.
I couldn’t get enough air, and my heart pounded so fast I thought it would leap out of my chest. While I tried to gain control of my vitals, Beck fished his wallet out of his discarded shorts. He ripped the corner of the condom package with his teeth.
I crawled backward, and Beck joined me on the bed, placing himself between my legs. One thrust, and he’d be inside. The emptiness in me was desperate to be filled. Before he did, Beck leaned over. Either arm braced on the side of my head. And then he kissed the bridge of my nose softly, tenderly.
“Do you still want to do this?” he whispered against my lips. That deep voice could be my undoing alone.
“Yes, Beck.” It came out as a beg. “Anything. Everything,” I managed.
His lips melted against mine. Then, he dipped his hips, thrusting into me. Slowly, so slowly, he entered. I marveled at his size, at how well he filled me.
“Fuck! Emily, you feel—” Beck pulled out then pushed back in, filling me to capacity and then some. “—Fuck!”
Lightning flashed outside the tent and behind my eyelids. He pulled out again, diving even deeper this time, stretching my core. I gripped his back, biting back a moan, not wanting the others to hear us. Then thunder cracked again, and I realized the rain was pouring so hard that we wouldn’t be audible over the storm.
Which was good, because when Beck picked up the pace, it was no use keeping quiet. His size, his strength, was an all-consuming pleasure. When I cried out, he immediately halted.
“Are you okay?” he rasped.
I ground against him, desperate for his friction. “Please,” I begged. “Please don't stop.”
I saw the comprehension snap into place, and Beck was quick to please. He pulled one of my thighs higher on his hip. The angle made me see stars. There, he pounded in me with that same stamina he showed every morning at the pool. I thought of how long he said he'd wanted me. Months of pent-up energy powered him. All the tension we’d harbored between us, all that competition, with each thrust, I paid for it in the most mouth-watering, mind-melting way.
I gripped the pillow, desperate to cling onto anything, to ground myself, but it didn't take long before that perfect pressure and rhythm began to build into aching need. “Beck!”
“I know, Emily.” He brushed a kiss against the underside of my jaw. Sweat dripped off him and trailed into my hairline, mingling with mine. “Come on,” he panted. “I’ve got you.” He threaded our fingers together, then squeezed my palms. He had me pinned and filled so completely. The tension pulled—knotted—tighter like it couldn’t stretch any further until the entire thing unraveled. The orgasm tore through my body, and as I clenched around him, his own pleasure followed. He buried his face in my neck, groaning my name, and I didn't think I'd ever heard a better sound.
Then, he collapsed, shifting his weight so the mattress took the brunt of it, but I savored how he relaxed into me—the way his breath tickled the baby hairs, how his arm draped limply across my breasts.
While we caught our breath, I ran my fingers through his damp curls. After a long moment, he surfaced, kissing my chin, nose, and forehead before rolling off me. “Jesus Christ, Lane.”
I shook my head, still in disbelief at the nirvana we’d just been through.
“I think I get it now,” Beck said, staring at the ceiling.
“What’s that?” I finally managed.
“Pura Vida,” he said. “Because that was pure life.”
Chapter 20
My mouth slid against Beck’s, and he pressed his body against mine. Nothing but skin beneath the sheets—no barrier of clothes. I’m not sure if he’d initiated the kissing or if I had done it in my sleep. It didn’t matter. I just knew I had to have him again. His hand gripped my ass and then trailed to my thigh. He hitched it up over his hip. I ground against him and found him rock hard.
