His 24-Hour Wife (The Hawke Brothers 2) by Rachel Bailey Page B

jaw as he fought for self-control. He wouldn’t let this be over too soon. They’d only agreed on one night, and, though he would definitely vote for many more, he was acutely aware this might be the last time he made love to her. He wanted to make the most of it.
    Once his—admittedly tenuous—grip on control was back in place, he began to move again, and she moved with him, finding their rhythm, moving together in a ragged harmony. His body urged him to rush headlong to the goal, his mind wanted him to slow down and take in each detail. The result was somewhere in the middle.
    His eyelids grew heavy, but he fought to keep them open, gaze fixed on her face. In that moment, she was the most beautiful woman in the world, her skin glowing, her eyes hungry. For him. It made him burn for her even more.
    Each stroke seemed to spark every nerve ending in his body, made his pulse race faster.
    She was close, he could see it in the tension in her muscles, in the way her breath was coming in short pants. He reached between them, to the place they were joined, and stroked, and she froze, clenching around him and calling his name, until he couldn’t hold on any longer and followed her over the edge. Everything inside him, around him, dissolved into bright light and all there was in the universe was Callie.
Callie
.
    Callie.
    * * *
    Callie woke curled around Adam. He lay on his back, one arm above his head on the pillow, the other holding her firmly against him. His breathing was even in sleep, and she carefully inched up on an elbow to look at him in the early-morning light streaming through the window.
    His dark hair with its hints of deep mahogany was striking against the white pillow. Her gaze traveled languidly from there, past defined cheekbones to a jaw covered in day-old stubble. He was a picture of masculine beauty, and something moved in her chest as she watched him.
    “Regrets already?” he asked without opening his eyes. His voice was gravelly with sleep, and it seemed to reverberate through to her soul.
    She eased back down and snuggled into his warmth. “Just looking at what I’ve got myself into.”
    His chest rumbled under her ear with a lazy chuckle. “And do I pass muster first thing in the morning?”
    “You’ll do,” she said, her voice teasing.
    His eyes blinked open and focused on her. “You’ll more than do. Early morning in my bed suits you.”
    The comment triggered a contented warmth, which spread through her body. In fact, this could easily become her favorite place to wake up, but she didn’t want to scare him, so she didn’t reply. Instead, she stretched against his luxurious sheets and glanced around the room.
    She hadn’t paid much attention to the master suite when they’d come in last night, but it deserved a good look. It was huge, done in the same white-on-white color scheme as the rest of the house, with indigo-blue blinds and comforter. A deep navy blue sofa sat beside a bank of white doors to closets that must hold all his clothes and personal items.
    “You like plain decorating,” she said.
    “I like simplicity.”
    She turned back to face him. “Is this another facet of what you were talking about last night?”
    “About only being able to cook tacos and eggs?” The corners of his mouth twitched.
    He was being deliberately obtuse, and it delighted her to see him so relaxed. She lightly punched him on the arm and said, “Strangely enough, I wasn’t thinking of cooking. I meant about you keeping your wild side under control. You deliberately keep things simple and plain. Not a lot of color, no flowers in the house, nothing to rouse the passions.”
    “There’s you,” he said and reached for her.
    She went into his arms because it was still a novelty to have him unreservedly want her there, and because he was Adam. It was possible she would never deny him anything.
    “In all seriousness,” he said once he’d tucked her against him again, her face comfortably nestled