Kiss Me on This Cold December Night by Charlotte Phillips Page B

wanting her to envelop every one of his senses. Her fingers clutched at his hair as she writhed beneath him and as he pushed her to the edge. He held her hard against his mouth so as to eke out every moment of pleasure.
    A brief pause while he reached to the side table for a condom, and then she was moving back against him, circling his rigid his erection with one hand and sliding the swollen oversensitised tip against her until a moan escaped his lips.
    He found the smooth curve of her bottom with his hand, gripped her in readiness to turn her onto her back so he could fuck her before he lost all threads of control, and then she pre-empted him, moved above him, sliding onto his length, taking him inside her inch by silken inch to the hilt. The sensation was exquisite, taking over his every sense. She’d found a rhythm now, grinding slowly and deliberately against him. He yanked her roughly against him, wanting her skin against his now, wanting that closeness of touch. He found her mouth with his, felt her hard nipples graze his chest, her knees drawn up, all the better to take him in deeper. And still she kept up the delicious grind until he could stand it no longer and in one swift movement he turned her onto her back on the bed.
    Tangling one hand in her hair now, he thrust harder, taking her rhythm and increasing the pace as she wrapped her long legs around his back and raised her hips from the bed, pushing himself ever harder into her until he could control it no more and she cried her own ecstasy softly into his hair as he reached the height of his pleasure.
    Every second that ticked by was something to treasure.
    Her breathing slowly evened, and her body relaxed against his as she melted into sleep. He didn’t move, even though he was too hot to sleep, revelling instead in the scent of her hair and her warm breath against his chest. He didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to wake up and have just moments left with her. And there it hit him. What the hell was he doing, just accepting her unreasonable terms without question? He’d made that mistake five years ago and really, what did he have to lose by talking to her in the morning, maybe arranging a meeting when he made it back from Barbados?

CHAPTER NINE
    â€˜It doesn’t need to stop here,’ he said.
    He leaned up on one elbow, the pillow rucked up beneath his naked chest, dark hair tousled from the night they’d spent tangled together. Golden shards of morning sunlight slipped into the room through the chink in the silk curtains and her stomach churned miserably at the ticking away of minutes until he would be leaving. Part of her wished she’d just left while he slept, like last time. It had been infinitely easier than this.
    Her heart gave a tiny leap and she forced it back down. To go along with this would have no better outcome, she’d just be delaying the loss for a few weeks. The moment he was back in the midst of his family with all that history, all that responsibility, she would lose her charm. She didn’t fit in with a family. She’d never been able to hold her own with her parents, so why the hell should she assume she’d do better on that front with him? Better to let him go now, no matter that it was a wrench. She’d managed it before and she could do it again.
    She smiled.
    â€˜Of course it does. It was always going to stop here. Just like it was always going to stop back in Devon. Don’t try to make it into something it isn’t.’
    He sat up in bed next to her.
    â€˜I’m not. I’m just asking. Why it has to come to a standstill at all.’
    She sighed.
    â€˜It is what it is, Tom.’
    â€˜And what is that?’
    He held her gaze, waited for her answer.
    â€˜It’s a fling,’ she said, slowly, as if explaining to a toddler. ‘It’s down to circumstance. Five years ago you and I were a spur of the moment one-night stand. It was a fluke. Hotel room.