Postcards From…Verses Brides Babies And Billionaires. Rebecca Winters

he moved, the sheer strength of him stoking the fire inside her.

      “At least mattresses don’t squeak.”

      As he laid her down, their legs tangled. Without light all she could do was feel. Already her hands seemed to know his body, seemed to understand how to touch him.

      She found the bulge of his cock trapped behind wool trousers and she cupped him. Even with the barrier, heat radiated from him. She used her other hand to bring his head down to hers. The easy slide of his tongue between her lips was almost enough to make her come on the spot.

      Her fingers found his zipper and she drew it down, her mind focused on nothing but getting the hard length of him in her greedy grasp. Twisting so she could get her hands down the front of his boxer briefs, she drew him out.

      “That’s what I want,” she whispered. He was hard as rock, pulsing and sensitive.

      He swore under his breath as she thumbed the head of him, spreading a drop of precum around.

      “Christ,” he hissed. “You’d better slow that down.”

      She squeezed. “Or what?”

      His lips were at her ear, his breath hot on her skin. “Or I’ll have to flip you over right now and make sure I at least get inside you before I come.”

      An involuntary whimper escaped her. “That sounds pretty good to me.”

      Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the dark, and the outline of him had formed against the city lights filtering in through her blinds. The streetlights winked. Between the darkness and the reassuring weight of him pressing her into the mattress, she didn’t want to move. Ever.

      This was it, she realized. This was what it was like to feel loved. To feel protected and cherished. To feel wanted.

      Even after all she’d done, he’d been there when she needed him.

      Her chest clenched as the thought replayed over and over in her head, like a needle catching on a scratched record.

      She resisted the idea—this wasn’t love. It was lust, mutual attraction. Affection, perhaps, but not love.

       You get that out of your head right now.

      Refocusing, she worked her hand up and down Rhys’s cock. His moans urged her on. The way he thrust his hips forward to meet her momentum should be enough for her. His body should be enough.

       He’s a great guy, but he only did what he felt was right. It’s about his morals, not about you.

      Then why did she want more from him?

      “Stop it,” he growled and she jumped, her mind automatically connecting his words with her thoughts before she realized that he couldn’t know what she was thinking. “You’re too damn good at that.”

      He brushed her hand aside and crawled down her body. His hands were on her legs, shoving the fabric of her skirt up her thighs, his lips blazing a trail from her knee to her hip. Not a second was wasted; this wasn’t about teasing or about drawing out the inevitable.

      He was impatient and she loved it.

      “You need to stop wearing panties,” he said as he yanked at the waistband of her underwear.

      “Yes, sir.” She lifted her hips and he undressed her roughly, without finesse.

      But then his mouth pressed against her sex and all the tension in her body evaporated. His full lips worked her like he’d studied her for years. As if he knew the exact pressure, the exact speed with which to propel her into nirvana.

      “God, Rhys.” She reached for his head.

      The steady flick of his tongue over her clit was maddening. A tremor started in her thighs as she fought to hang on, fought to make it last more than a few seconds. But he was too good for that, and soon she was flying over the edge, her hips rocking against his face while she took everything he offered her.

      He had crawled up beside her before she’d even realized that he’d moved. “I love the sound you make when I’m between your legs.”

      “I make a sound?” She honestly could have been doing the Macarena for all she knew. When he touched her, her mind became a blank slate.

      “It’s like a kitten trying to growl.” He was already undressing her, tugging her tank top over her head. “Sexy and sweet.”

      “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

      “I could listen to that sound all day.”

      She pushed her skirt down and wriggled until she was able to kick it off into the dark room. “I wish I could let you be down there all day, but I don’t think my body could handle it.”

      “I’m game if you are.” The sound of fabric rustling cut through the quiet, and soon he was naked and on top of her.

      The hairs on his legs brushed her sensitive skin as he nudged his thigh between hers. Her teeth clamped down onto her lower lip as he guided her hand back to him.

      “Oh, so now you want it,” she teased, relishing the weight of him in her palm.

      “I want it like nothing else.” He shifted, easing her legs apart. “I want you wrapped around me, Wren. I want to feel how tight you are.”

      She fumbled around for the condoms she’d finally remembered to pick up from the store. Her fingers brushed the foil packets and she handed one over to him. The sound of foil tearing sent pleasure rushing through her like a drug.

      It made everything slow down and speed up at the same time. Lolling her head against the mattress, she waited as he sheathed himself. It was sweet torture. A second later, the fat head of his cock pressed at her entrance. They hovered there, feeding off each other’s anticipation. Then he plunged into her.

      As he moved inside her, she wrapped her legs around him and clung to him. His face pressed against her neck and she cupped his head, holding him to her as though it were the end.

      It most likely was. In the morning he would realize he’d made a mistake, and soon she would be going home. Blinking back tears, she pressed her lips to his cheek, urging him on with soft whispers.

      With a final thrust, his whole body shook. There was no air between them; there was nothing that would force them apart. Except tomorrow.

      RHYS PACED UP and down in front of Logan’s office. He hadn’t even made it into the Cobalt & Dane headquarters before he’d been summoned with a terse email. This was it. All his hard work fighting to get people to believe in him, to believe in his talents, would be over.

      Never before had he felt so conflicted. He was angry—at himself rather than at Wren. How could he have not suspected her? Was a pretty face all it took to throw him off his game?

      But that was the problem, Wren wasn’t just a pretty face, and that was exactly why he’d wanted to get close to her. She was inspiring, refreshing. She made his blood pump harder. Her spontaneity called to him, which was odd. It should have bothered him how she never planned anything or how she never spent time worrying about sensible things like buying a bed frame or throwing her underwear into a clothes hamper. She probably didn’t even own a clothes hamper.

      It certainly bothered him that she’d put herself into a potentially dangerous situation for something that wasn’t her problem.

      Yet he was breaking the rules for her. Something that went totally against his nature.

       It’s because you know she’s right. Sean Ainslie has proved what he’ll do to get his own way, and you have a responsibility to make sure you listen to the facts.

      But the fact was, Wren had done the wrong thing by trying to dig into Sean’s business. Still, he could rationalize