“Oh, fuck, babe, you’re so tight.” He drops his head forward and mutters a string of curses. “Bet me I can’t last more than a minute?”

“Bet you?” I giggle and my body grips him tighter. We both groan at the intensified sensation.

“Use that competitiveness for the greater good.”

“I bet you can’t last more than three minutes.”

“I didn’t say ask for a miracle.” Those blue eyes meet mine with humor and passion. His smile falls slowly as he somehow buries himself farther inside of me.

My body hums and stretches. I arch into him to create more friction and to see what reactions I can elicit from him. There’s something insanely empowering about being responsible for the look of drugged pleasure on his face.

Tanner nuzzles between my boobs. “Are you counting? Has it been one minute? Can I move yet?”

“And sixty,” I say like I’ve been keeping track this entire time.

I’m sure he knows I haven’t, but my words encourage him all the same. There’s no slow build up, no sweet kisses—there’ll be time for all of that later. Right now, it’s a race for release.

He grabs my hips on either side as he pumps harder. His mouth skims my skin, teeth graze my navel and then my breasts.

The noises coming out of Tanner are completely unintelligible but his grip on my body and the tempo say everything. My orgasm builds and it’s hard to keep my eyes from falling closed or rolling back in my head, but I’ve never seen anything more spectacular than Tanner on the brink of unraveling.

I gasp and moan, so close I can’t hold off any longer. “Tanner,” I cry out.

“Babe. Oooh Fuck.”

Our combined moans and grunts take us both over the edge. I sink back into the mattress and Tanner flops beside me. He blows out a long breath and my chest rises and falls as I try to catch my breath.

“More than three minutes of that might kill me.” I fight to fill my lungs back up with air.

He barks out a laugh and rolls over onto his side, throwing an arm over my middle.

Laying there together, we survey the damage. Clothes strewn around the room, and the pretty floral comforter is askew. It’s really no wonder we didn’t start a fire.

“It was the candles that broke you, right?” I ask of my weak attempt to set the mood in here. The only candles in this house are those large, three wick ones.

A surprised laugh erupts from his chest and he rolls to face me. “It was you. The candles are a nice touch, though. I do love candles. Though I am not digging whatever that scent is.”

“Eucalyptus and pear.”