Rush by Maya Banks Page A

heaven.”
    She let out a sharp cry, her arousal at a fever pitch. Her orgasm flashed, explosive and intense, even harder than before. He was deep. Impossibly deep. So far inside her that she could feel nothing else but his pulsating hardness as it drove through her snug tissue.
    His thighs slapped against her bottom, shaking her. She arched, wanting more, needing more. And still he thrust, his face a mask of strain.
    “My name,” he ground out. “My name when you come, Mia.”
    “Gabe!”
    His eyes glittered, a look of triumph as she writhed beneath him, her orgasm quaking through her body with an intensity she hadn’t imagined possible.
    She went limp on the bed, boneless, exhausted and sated as he continued to press into her. He slowed his thrusts, as though he wanted to savor every moment. He closed his eyes, stroking deep and then shallow. Then he pressed his lips together and began to move with renewed power. Deep. Hard .
    And then he went taut against her, every muscle in his arms and chest straining, coiled tight. His hands moved from her ass and back to where her hands still rested above her head. He pressed his palms into her, pushing them deeply into the mattress as he lowered his body until it was nearly flush with hers.
    “Mine,” he gritted out. “Mine, Mia.”
    She went slick around him as he pulsed wetly into her. He continued to thrust, jetting deep inside her. His release seemed to go on and on. She could feel the dampness between them, could hear the wet sounds as he sank into her over and over.
    And then he went deep and held himself there, slowly lowering his body the rest of the way until he covered her completely. His chest heaved and his breaths were hot against her neck. He was still wedged tightly within her. He was still hard as a rock even after coming so hard for so long. God, but he felt so good.
    “Can I touch you?” she whispered. She needed to touch him. She could contain herself no longer. It was an overwhelming urge she couldn’t control.
    He didn’t respond, but he slid his hands from hers, freeing her, and she took that silent gesture as assent.
    Tentatively she slid her hands over his shoulders, gaining more courage when he didn’t object. She allowed her hands to roam, luxuriating in the postcoital glow. They slid down his back as far as she could reach and then up again, stroking and offering him the same caresses he’d given to her.
    He made a sound of satisfaction that made her entire body clench. He groaned in reaction when she squeezed around his cock, and then he pressed a kiss to her neck just below her ear.
    “Beautiful,” he whispered. “And mine.”
    Pleasure consumed her, at his calling her beautiful but most especially that he’d staked his claim. For however long their arrangement would last, she was his. Truly his. In a way most women don’t belong to a man.
    There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t feel the stamp of his possession. She was tired, sore and completely satisfied. Moving wasn’t an option, and so she waited, content to lie there, him surrounding her and still deeply embedded in her.

chapter nine
    Gabe lay next to Mia listening to the soft sounds of her breathing. She was warm and soft against him and he was gripped by an odd…contentment. Her head was pillowed on his arm, which was growing numb, but he refused to move because he liked the feel of her nestled against his side.
    He was not a cuddler. Not since he was married had he ever devoted any time to the more intimate parts of lovemaking. Not that he hadn’t let women sleep over, but there was always a distinct separation, almost an invisible barrier between him and the other women.
    Mia hadn’t given him much choice in the matter. As soon as he’d withdrawn from her body and cleaned them both, she’d snuggled into his side and fallen asleep. And he hadn’t done anything to rectify the matter.
    Instead, he lay here pondering the volatility of their coming together.
    Guilt