He rubbed her in tight circles as he flicked his tongue, and only the raging need to have him inside gave her the focus she needed to go for his nylon sweatpants. Shoving the waistband down, she kicked off her loafers, hooked a toe, and peeled them all the way off.

No boxers. No briefs. Nothing in the way.

Wrapping her palm around his thick shaft, she stroked him and he moved with her, counterthrusting to increase the friction. And the sound he made . . . holy heavens, the sound he made: that growl was all animal as he inhaled against her breast.

Grier sat up, his lips popping off her breast, and with a curse, she all but ripped her yoga pants and her panties off. As he gripped himself and stood his erection up, she restraddled him and sat down, lowering herself onto him, joining them together, moving his windbreaker up so she could get to more skin. The feel of him kicked her head back, but she watched his reaction, hungry to see what he looked like—and he didn’t disappoint. With a great hiss, his teeth clenched and he sucked in air through them, the cords in his neck straining, his pecs popping up into tight pads.

As she took over and set the pace, it was as if she were owning him in some primal way, marking him with the sex.

“God . . . you’re beautiful,” he panted as his hot eyes watched her from lowered lids, tracking the movement of her breasts as they peeked out from between the shirt and the crammed-down bra cups.

He didn’t stay down for long, though. He was fast and strong and sure as he sat up and kissed her hard, pushing in even deeper and holding her to him. At first she panicked that he was stopping again, but then he burrowed into her neck and spoke to her.

“You feel so good.” His Southern drawl was low and husky and it went straight into her sex, heating her even further. “You feel . . .”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but slipped his big palms under her to lift her up and down, his massive biceps handling her weight as if she were nothing but a toy—

She came so hard she saw stars, a bright galaxy exploding where they were joined and sending a shower of sparkling light throughout her body. And just as he’d promised, he didn’t stop this time. He went rigid and jerked against her, his arms shooting around her waist and tightening until she couldn’t breathe—not that she cared about oxygen. As he twitched inside of her and shuddered against her, she sank her nails into his black windbreaker and held him.

And then it was all over.

As their breathing slowed, the stillness afterward was much the same as the departure of that great, sourceless wind: oddly traumatic.