She relaxed into him. “Do you?”

“Oh, yeah.” He hooked his thumbs into the sides. “Every time you bent over to work the roller, they rode up. I got a lot of mileage out of that. But I’d like them even better . . .” He tugged them down to her thighs, and eyed the view he’d given himself with an appreciative groan. “Oh yeah. You should have painted like that.”

“I couldn’t have walked.”

He smiled, a slow, sexy smile. And then he kissed her, opening his mouth over hers, the taste of him going straight through her, so familiar, so good, so . . . hers that she moaned.

In response, he pressed that hard, hot body close, so close that the paint on her belly stuck them together like glue.

“I’m a mess,” she murmured.

“I know. I love you like this.” He cupped her head, his fingers entangled in her hair. “I love that you’ve lost all that carefulness when it comes to being with me.”

She really had. Which meant he had a direct route to the soft underside of her heart.

“That’s the benefit to going slow.” His mouth was at her ear, and he very gently sank his teeth into her lobe, enough to make her shiver in anticipation. “Drawing things out . . . you feel everything that much more. You feeling everything, Holly. Every little thing.”

Oh yeah, she was. And bigger things, too, such as his erection straining against her. She slid her fingers into his hair and brought his mouth back to hers, that mouth that she could never in a million years get enough of, every slow thrust of his tongue making her heart beat even faster.

“Holly?” His tongue glided along hers as his hand slowly slid up her leg, catching on the panties still at midthigh, which he simply tugged all the way off.

“Yes,” she managed. “I’m feeling every little thing. And the big ones, too.” She pressed against him. “Especially the big ones.”

He let out a low, rough laugh and backed her to the table, lifting her to it so she sat, gripping the metal beneath her. He nudged her legs open so he could step between, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with passion, going even darker when she ran a hand over those mouthwatering abs of his. Freeing him from his shorts, she wrapped her hands around him and stroked, wrenching a satisfying groan from his lips as he thrust through her fingers, huge and silky hard, hot to the touch.

“Holly.” His voice was raspy and thick as his fingers slid between her thighs, jerking a gasp from her. “God, you drove me crazy this past half hour, wondering if you were as hot as I was.”

“I was. Am.”

“Good.” He dipped his head to watch himself touch her, and unable to stay still or quiet, she rocked her hips and let out a needy little whimper.

“Love the sound of you on the edge,” he whispered.

And she was most definitely on the edge. A sweaty, paint-covered, on-the-edge mess. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but with his hot gaze soaking her up, with his fingers taking her to new places, she’d never been more turned on in her life. “Pace.”

“I know.” Leaning over her on the table, he kissed her again, his mouth hot and just a little bit demanding as his tongue owned hers. Slowly. Achingly slowly, taking his damn sweet time, breathing her in, spreading hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, her throat, to a breast, and then, as he went down on his knees, over her belly.

Her inner thigh.

Between.

With a gasp, her head fell back, and she rocked her hips as he rasped his thumb over her, making her arch up for more. He gave it to her using his tongue now, and she lost her words, her train of thought. “Ohmigod, Pace—”

“Don’t even think of asking me to hurry.” His tongue made another slow foray over ground zero, and unable to keep quiet, she cried out, rocking mindlessly against him as his hands tightened on her, holding her still for his mouth.

She couldn’t hurry him, which meant letting him do as he wanted to her, which was amazing, but she was programmed for fast sex, it was all she knew—

“Mmmm,” he said against her skin, making her thighs quiver. He stroked them, soothing even as he nibbled at her in a rhythm designed to rile her up. Her belly quivered, too, and he stroked her there as well, all while slowly, tor tuously driving her right out of her own mind. He held her on that edge, poised on the brink until she was panting, desperate to take the plunge.

And then he nudged her off, holding her as she burst, holding her through the shudders until she sagged back flat on the table, staring up at the ceiling, breathing like a lunatic.

He pulled a condom from his shorts on the floor. Straightening, he looked down at her with heated, glittering eyes as he lifted her leg and wrapped it around his hip, pulling her body up against his hot, hard one.

And everything that had kept her heart protected from him flew right out the window as he protected them both and entered her, a deliciously hot glide that had her wild again in seconds. She arched, rocking up so he’d move within her.

But he still couldn’t be rushed. No, the man who could throw so fast he made her head spin took his damn sweet time giving her another long, slow, perfect thrust. And suddenly, instead of racing for the finish line, she wanted it to never end. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, holding on for dear life as he pushed into her. “Oh God, please don’t . . .” Her toes curled, and she could feel herself letting go, really, fully, utterly—letting go.

“Feel it, Holly. Feel me.”