Page 76 of The Knockout Rule

He stilled. A sheen glossed his eyes. “I love you, milaya. I’ve never felt this before. Can’t even describe it.”

“I know. Me, too.” A guy she’d disliked at first sight. A connection she’d fought so hard he’d been forced to woo her through another man.

All she saw now was love, love, love.

He pushed in slightly. They both groaned. And wow, he was big. A hint of pain followed his slow push, then the ache bloomed into a wave of pleasure that made her feel gloriously full. Love. I love this man so much. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. She lifted her knees higher, gave him better access to her body and heart until he slid all the way in.

He dropped his head forward, his body shuddering as his jaw pulsed. “Jesus, Isla.”

All she could do was clench. Squeeze the solid length of him harder, drag his upper body closer. Taste his pulse point and read the emotion pumping his blood. He dropped some of his weight on her, the perfect amount. Enough to feel completely owned by this brilliant linguist. She ran her hands over the soft buzz of his shorn hair, reveled in his answering grunt. He sucked on her neck, bit her collarbone, eventually lacing their fingers together as he planted their hands above her head.

Eyes locked, they moved. Slightly faster. Connecting so deeply she felt her first tear slip out. Then another. He kissed her damp cheek, nibbled and sucked on her bottom lip. They rocked, the thick length of him moving in and out of her so thoroughly heat blasted through her. She arched her back, closed her eyes. Those sharp pulses gathered tighter, hotter. Building brighter. And fuck. She cried out, the strength of her orgasm blinding as she met him thrust for thrust, harder and faster, chasing every drop of her release. He wasn’t far behind, his guttural grunts and Russian sounding words joining his shaking body.

Boneless and breathless, she placed her hands on his pecs, gave those crazy muscles a squeeze. “Your boobs are bigger than mine.”

He laughed. His cheeks and neck were red from exertion. A hint of sweat glinted in his clavicle. She gave the spot a lick.

He made a satisfied male sound and kissed her nose. “I love you, Isla Slade.”

“I thought I knew love. But I didn’t. Not until you.” He was still inside of her, their hips flush, that connection deeper than the merging of bodies. Eric had carved a place for himself in her heart so irrevocably she wasn’t sure how it had beat without him in her life.

24

Eric’s body had an internal clock constantly set to Crack of Dawn. He liked being up early, rising with the sun, fitting in studying before his training kicked in. This morning there would be no studying, unless cataloguing Isla’s gorgeous features counted.

She lay facing him, one of her strong legs stacked between his, her hair a mess, her lips slightly parted. Her left arm rested on his hip, the other twisting awkwardly under her pillow.

A fierce sense of protectiveness fisted his gut.

He’d known he was falling for her. Spending so much time with her the past weeks had drilled that reality home. What he hadn’t realized was how ass-over-heels in love he was with Isla Slade. Last night, before they’d made love, he’d gazed at her, unsure why his lungs had hurt. Her sexy lingerie had been discarded and she’d been a vision, but it hadn’t been her glorious body stealing his breath. It had been her expressive eyes, the way he’d seen an image of himself reflecting back at him: the man he wanted to be. His true self, utterly seen.

He tugged her closer now, kissed her jaw and ear until she stirred.

“It’s too early,” she mumbled.

“I need you before my day starts.”

“I need to shower and brush my teeth,” she said into his neck.

He chuckled, loving her soft and pliable and sleepy. And naked. Hugging her close, he rolled them to the edge of the bed and lifted her as he stood, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her arms came around his neck effortlessly.

“Oooh.” Her voice was groggy, but she adjusted her body, aligning herself so his morning erection rubbed where she wanted. All he could think was: Fuck.

Not eloquent. Isla had the power to drain his mind of everything but his desire for her. He’d planned to take her to the shower as she’d requested. He only mustered a few steps. He needed her now. Again. He pressed her into the wall, rolling his hips into her. They were both naked, insanely close. If he wasn’t careful, he’d sink into her before he got a condom.

She moaned, kissed his neck. “That feels amazing, but wall sex doesn’t work for me. The position’s awkward, and I get too in my head.”

She was the only thing in his head this morning, and her claim was a challenge if he’d ever heard one. “You haven’t had wall sex with me.” He palmed her ass harder. “Trust me to hold you.”

A double entendre maybe. Trust me to take care of you. I won’t let you fall.

She was taking a huge risk having visited last night, confessing her feelings while they’d made love, sleeping over, when she’d only just begun to face her mental health issues. He wouldn’t falter. He lifted more of her weight, rubbed his length against her.

She moaned. “God. Okay, yeah. I guess being strong helps. We need a condom.”

He needed a defibrillator to control the erratic beat of his heart.

He put her down briefly, returning with a condom so she could sheath him. He liked watching her line up the latex and roll it down, the way her teeth lodged into her bottom lip. He loved the little squeeze she gave him at the end, her eyes dilated with excitement. Need tightened his skin. He lifted her back up, almost shaking with the urge to be inside her.