Without breaking eye contact, his hips thrust forward, and a small cry escaped me. There was a quick bite, a feeling of pressure that wasn’t painful, that told me that no matter how good that vibrator was, it had nothing on Reece.

“Damn.” Reece rocked his hips as I hooked my ankles, delighting in the groan that shook his entire body. He was still for a moment, both of our chests rising and falling rapidly. He was seated deep, and I could feel him in every breath I took.

Then, with his gaze locked with mine, he slowly pulled almost all the way out and then he slid back in, dragging the motion out. I clenched his arm as he shifted his weight to it. He cupped my breast, his thumb circling the sensitive bud.

I was lost in his eyes, lost in the way his body was making me feel. His body trembled with restraint. “You have no idea how badly I just want to fuck you,” he said, giving a little shake of his head.

Which was what he had warned he wanted to do, but he was holding back. I stretched up, kissing him. His lips parted, and my tongue spiked against his. “It’s okay,” I whispered, my lips brushing his as I spoke.

His forehead rested against mine as he pumped his hips slowly. “Roxy . . .”

“Fuck me,” I told him softly. Those two words burned my body in many different ways.

Reece groaned as his hips reared up and then slammed back down. His mouth found mine as whatever control he had completely snapped. He moved furiously, the rhythm almost impossible to keep up with.

He reached up, capturing my hand. Like before he brought it to his lips and then threaded his fingers through mine. He pressed our joined hands to the mattress as he ground his hips against mine.

Acute pleasure pounded through me. I kicked my head back, squeezing his hand as the tension coiled tighter and tighter. Unbelievably, his pace picked up and the headboard smacked against the wall. That and the sounds of our bodies drove me over the edge.

I came with a sharp cry that echoed throughout the room, my body shuddering around his. The release kicked the air out of my lungs. The pleasure came in waves, tossing me up until I thought I’d float right through the ceiling or that my bones would turn to mush.

For a wondrous moment, I knew how I could capture this . . . this feeling on canvas. It would be a sky shaded in violets and deep blues—­blues that matched his eyes. It would be the sky moments after a tumultuous storm.