Turquoise irises darkened. He took the condom. His hands weren’t entirely steady as he sheathed himself and waited for her to come to him. Her eyes raked over his lean, naked body, taking in his broad shoulders, defined abdominals, and powerful legs. He was the quintessential male, the ideal physical specimen. But ultimately, it was his kindness, his generosity, and his willingness to put his own needs aside for hers that sparked her desire. As he’d said, sex was easy to get. She’d had plenty of offers, but she wanted him.

She straddled his hips and took him into her body inch by inch. His body stiffened. His fingers dug into her hips as he allowed her to control the movement. She pressed down until he filled her completely. His hardness pressed against the soft ache inside of her. His body trembled beneath her.

Her head dropped backward. Her spine arched with pleasure. A moan started in her solar plexus, rippled up her throat, and slid from her lips. This was how it was supposed to be. Two bodies joined as one. Her core throbbed with the beat of her heart. Inside her, she felt the echoing pulse of his erection. Any movement would increase the sensation. Her body insisted, but her mind paused. Her control was spiderweb thin and just as fragile.

Conor’s hands curled around the backs of her thighs, the fingers digging into her flesh. “Sweetheart, one of us is going to have to start moving.” His voice was hoarse, his teeth clenched as if his movements were barely contained.

She rose, sliding to his tip in slow motion, then taking him deep again.

“Jesus,” he hissed. “You’re going to kill me.”

She did it again. Her body bowed back farther, drawing pleasure from her nerve endings like the sweet friction of a violin bow on taut strings. Conor’s hands slid up to her waist. His hips surged, matching the agonizingly slow pace she set.

“Louisa.” He strained his head toward her, the effort tightening his abdominal muscles. His hand swept over her breast and collarbone to cup her jaw, urging her face closer. He kissed her, the motion of his tongue in her mouth mimicking the wet slide of their joined bodies.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Their chests met, the coarse hair on his pectorals rubbing against her breasts.

His lips moved to her ear. “I can’t get enough of you.”

With one hand pressed to the small of her back, he thrust upward again.

She closed her eyes as sensations overwhelmed her, the tension spiraling tighter and tighter in a swirl of white light behind her eyelids. From head to toe, her muscles clenched, her body tensing to the point of pain. A whimper of frustration escaped her lips.

Conor’s hand left her back to cradle her face. “Look at me.”