His gaze was intense as it rested on her face and he pumped into her hand. She picked up the rhythm of his touch between her legs, matching the slide of her hand against his cock. Portia was overcome with sensation, she was so close but she couldn’t . . .

Then Tavish’s hand slipped from her shoulder to her neck, his fingers loosely encircling it, palm resting on her collarbones. His brows raised and she nodded, and then he increased the pressure just the slightest bit. It wasn’t enough to impede her breathing, but the weight of it paired with the two fingers he slid inside of her at the same moment were enough.

“Oh, fuck! Tavish!” Her back arched and she grabbed on to his forearm with both hands as she clamped around his fingers and rode out the impossible sensation flowing through her. Sparks from an anvil, fireworks—all of that good shit—flashed behind her tightly squeezed eyes as her orgasm crested over her. She didn’t know how long she writhed and bucked—and how long he held her down through it—but when she finally opened her eyes, panting and short of breath, he was staring at her hard.

“Okay there, lass?” His voice was hoarse with need.

She responded by tugging him onto the bed beside her and kissing him, her hand frantically searching out his cock and closing over his own—he’d been working himself as he watched her fly apart beneath him.

She leaned back, taking a breath from their frantic pace, and watched him stroke himself. The kernel of a crush in her chest that had grown into a cornfield all simultaneously popped into popcorn from the heat of it. Fuck. She’d already thought him sexy, but now she’d be stuck with this image of him lazily touching himself, invitation in his hazel gaze, whenever her brain wanted to mess with her.

She reached into the toiletry bag beside her bed to pull out a condom, knocking his hand out of the way to slide it onto him. He chuckled at her rush, a sound that was cut short as she slid the condom down. She waited a moment, until he pumped up into her fist impatiently, and then knelt over him and followed suit with her body.

He wasn’t lacking in the girth department, and Portia rested on the tip of his cock for a moment, gaze locked on his as she slowly took him into her. The slow, deep stretch of him felt more intimate than anything Portia had ever experienced. He leaned up on his elbows to watch her, them, though the more she took in, the more tightly his eyes squeezed shut.

She squeezed his torso between her knees as she rode him, loving the thick friction of him inside of her, relishing the way his hips moved as he pushed up to deepen their joining. Her hands rested on his chest as she met his shallow stroke with a deep one, pulling a moan from both of them.

“Jesus, Portia.”

After that there was just the slap and slide of their bodies against one another, their hushed moans. He leaned up, one hand sliding into her hair to hold her gaze with his and the other gripping her hip as he pumped up into her.

“You’re . . .” His eyes closed and he grit his teeth. “You’re driving me crazy. You beautiful . . .”

His words trailed off as she swiveled her hips in his lap, meeting his upward thrusts from a new angle. His hand in her hair guided her mouth to his for a bruising kiss and his hand gripped her hip enough to cause sweet shocks of pain.

“Tav, I’m gonna—” Then she cried out into his mouth as her body went taut with ecstasy. He let out a series of curses as he pounded up into her and then they both toppled over onto the mattress, a tangle of sweaty limbs and heaving chests.

Shit, Portia thought. Now what?

Of course she hadn’t thought ahead to this part. After the hookup. She would usually get up and go now, but this was her room. They lived in the same building.

And I don’t want to.

“Fuck’s sake,” Tav drawled miserably, and Portia steeled herself.

“This bed really is uncomfortable.” He shifted around a bit until he was cradling her in his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me you were serious about that?”

She let out a snort of disbelief and he nuzzled into her neck.

“And you called me a princess,” she asked.

He nuzzled some more—he was a cuddler apparently. She tried to ignore how good and natural it felt to be with him like this.

“Eh, so about that simmering and itch scratching and hype and what not?” His voice was only a little playful.

“We’ll see how we feel in the morning,” she said carefully.

His hand slid up her waist and cupped her breast. “Morning’s a long way off,” he mumbled into her neck. Portia allowed herself to sink into his touch. He was right; sometimes it took a few rounds to really fuck a man out of your system. By the time the sun filtered through the fog of Bodotria, they’d be over each other for sure.

Totally.

Chapter 20

Tavish was sleeping; Portia was not. He had his arms around her and was holding her close and, honestly, who slept like that? Holding another human being like a koala hugged up on a eucalyptus tree. Ew.

She batted at her pillow and Tav’s arm tightened around her.

It wasn’t bad exactly, it was just that he was so warm. His chest hair tickled her back each time he inhaled and exhaled. He smelled—it was a good smell, but still. If she was a man-sweat sommelier, she would say it had hints of steel, citrus, and essence of Tavish. But she had never cared about a guy’s smell before unless it was a rando crushed against her on the train. It bothered her that she was sneaking whiffs of Tav’s elbow, partly because there would be no further elbow sniffing.