He did more than just touch me. His hands were greedy and so were his kisses. We were flushed and panting as I worked him to the point he pulled my hand away and all but tore my panties off. There was no more waiting. On my knees, I lowered myself on him, skin against skin. I cried out at the feeling, at how he stretched me, and how I burned around his length, and how I was scorched every place he touched and kissed me.

Letting me set the rhythm, Reece gave me complete control as I moved over him, rising and lowering myself slowly at first and then more frantically as my muscles contracted around him. As the pleasure built, spun tighter and tighter, and the release I sought began to whip out through me, he moved then, taking over. Gripping my hip with one hand and the back of my head with the other, his hips powered up, thrusting into me, setting me off. The release was so powerful, so explosive it was almost painful, almost too much. I wasn’t sure I could take it, but I didn’t want to escape. Not when I felt him start to lose control, when he grunted my name in my ear. I knew he was close. His hold on my hip tightened, and he started to lift me off him. I didn’t want him to pull out. This . . . this was going to be our last time, and I wanted to feel him so very alive inside me. I trusted him, and I hadn’t missed any more of the pills.

I bore down on him, holding him just as tightly as he held me, and he knew what I wanted, because I felt him start to shake.

“Roxy,” he growled my name, his large body stilling against mine as his arms surrounded me in a powerful embrace.

It took a while to move after that. I could feel his heart pounding just as fiercely as mine, and I felt each flex of his body throughout every cell in me. Neither of us spoke as I rested in his lap. We . . . we just held each other quietly, in a silence that was filled with a thousand unspoken words. It was only when we were no longer joined that I knew it was time.

“I need to clean up.” My voice sounded strange to me. Too low. Too empty.

He eased his arms away from me, and I climbed off, snatching my panties off the floor. Our gazes met briefly, and I tried to ignore the question in them as I fixed my bra and top. Then I turned, hurrying into his bathroom. I didn’t take long, because I knew that if I delayed this, I wouldn’t leave. After cleaning myself up, I pulled on my undies.

I needed to leave, right? I couldn’t stay here and I couldn’t be with him, because I’d . . .