The desire seething behind his eyes and the tightness of every muscle in his body makes me want to ask more questions. But I don’t, because something tells me I shouldn’t. We’re keeping things light. “Then that’s where you should be.”

I bring his mouth to mine. The kiss isn’t a soft, slow reunion. It’s desperate and intense. Randy’s tongue sweeps my mouth, and his hips move hard between my legs. His back ripples with a shiver as I push his boxers down. He lifts his hips to help make it happen, and when he settles against me, his cock glides over my clit.

Randy breaks the kiss. His nose brushes mine, his breath washing over my lips. He keeps grinding against me, bare and wet and slick from his mouth and my orgasm. “I just wanna be with you.” His entire body is shaking. “I just wanna be in you.” He keeps rolling his hips. It’s rhythmic and relentless and oh, God I want.

As delirious as I am with need, there’s something in his words, in his expression, in the way he’s aggressive but tender, that makes my skin prickle. I don’t understand what’s happening, but everything is shifting, turning on its axis.

“Then be with me. Be in me.”

I stretch my hand across his lower back and push down to add more friction. On the next roll he goes low, and the head nudges my entrance. He hesitates. It’s understandable. Sex without a condom is a dangerous and slippery slope. It indicates both stupidity and a belief that this is more than two people banging on occasion. I’m concerned it’s becoming more than that for me. Worse is that I want it to.

I’d like to blame my lack of protest on something other than hormones and desire. I’d like to say I tell him we need to stop because it’s obvious something is very wrong and this is a terribly not-smart, bad idea. But I don’t. Because I’m an idiot, lulled into false security by taking the pill.

No protection with someone like Randy is stupid. Idiotic. He’s slept with a legion of women. But in the moment, it feels oh so good. And the look on his face as he eases in a little farther makes it impossible to say no to what’s happening between us.

His mouth drops open, and his brow furrows as pain merges with euphoria. His hands tremble against my cheeks and his eyes roll up. He exhales in a rush, dropping his face to my neck.

“Condom,” he says.

He’s off me in a flash, sweeping the floor for his pants. The sudden loss of his warmth makes me shiver and close my legs. But I don’t argue with his thinking. The rustle of fabric accompanies a few choice words of frustration. He must find what he’s looking for, because there’s a soft thud and the distinct crinkle and tear of a condom wrapper.

A few seconds later he turns back to me, tapping my knees in a request to open for him. I comply, my gaze fixed on his wrapped cock.

“Look at me, Lily.”

“I am.”

“Up here.” He snaps his fingers, then eases between my legs once more.

There’s no slow transition. He pushes inside, his jaw going slack, eyes glazing. He drops his head, soft hair tickling my cheek. I rest my palm on the back of his neck, adjusting to the wonderful fullness. Randy’s lips part on my shoulder, his tongue sweeping along the skin. Warmth is replaced by the hard press of teeth. And then he starts to move.

He angles my hips up off the bed as he grinds into me. He bites harder until I whimper, and then he kisses his way over my neck, all teeth and suction until his mouth is on mine, taking until my breath is almost gone.

It’s hard and fast. He kisses me with frantic need, groaning into my mouth. Sliding his arms under my shoulders he sits back so my ass rests on his thighs. He moves me over him, watching his cock sliding in and out, over and over. I glance down, wanting the same view.

Again I note the thick, pale line traveling all the way to his groin. I have to wonder what kind of surgery he had to acquire that. But then he commandeers my mouth again and begs me to come. I fall into the pool of desire, basking there while he swallows my moans. Randy whispers that he’s going to make me come again and again until it’s the only thing I can do anymore.

Chapter 20

Almost Truths

RANDY

I’m fucking Lily like it’s the last time I’m ever going to have sex. That’s kind of how it feels. I almost thought about going bareback. Okay, not almost. I totally thought about going bareback with her, but then I’d have to explain about blood tests and how I never go bareback with anyone, ever—not even in high school when guys made notoriously bad decisions by saying things like they couldn’t feel anything with a condom.

That’s a load of shit. Guys can feel fine through latex. Does it mute the sensation a bit? Yeah, sure. But that’s not a bad thing considering how fast I’d blow if I wasn’t wearing one. At least when Lily’s involved.

I don’t know what it is about her. I don’t know why I’m so hung up, but I do know there’s still a whole storm of conflict going on inside me over that stupid girl at the bar. I almost told Lily before I got inside her, which probably would have screwed things up—screwed the screwing. I stop worrying about things that didn’t happen and focus on the feel of Lily around me.

She’s moaning my name and clawing at my back and shoulders. She’s about to come. The wave of goosebumps and her increase in volume tell me that. I reach between us and pinch her clit. Lily throws her head back and cries out. If I had a free hand I’d skim the long, smooth line of her throat. But I’m keeping her from falling backward on the bed right now. I want her close.