An Australian Surrender. Maisey Yates

than before. Now she knew what he could make her feel, knew how powerful it was, how amazing it felt. And she knew he could make her feel that way again.

      He put his hand on her bottom and stood, supporting her weight with one arm. She locked her legs around his lean hips, the hard length of his erection pressed against her clitoris. Every step he took sent waves of bliss through her, renewed her need for him.

      He pushed open the door to her bedroom and walked to the bed, bringing them both gently down onto the mattress, his body covering hers. She arched against him, pressing her breasts against his chest. He reached around and unzipped her dress, tugging it down, baring her breasts. His eyes glittered in the dim light of the bedroom.

      “You’re even more beautiful than I remembered. And I didn’t think that was possible. I thought for sure I must have imagined that you were this perfect.”

      Her throat tightened, emotion building in her. Emotion she didn’t want to deal with. Not now. Not when she simply wanted to live in this glorious moment.

      “I remember you being pretty perfect too,” she said, ignoring the persistent ache in chest. “You might want to refresh my memory.”

      He pushed himself up with one arm and shrugged his jacket off, pulling his undone tie over his shoulders and casting it to the floor. She watched, every bit of her completely enthralled, as he unbuttoned his white dress shirt, revealing teasing glimpses of perfect, muscular chest and abs that had not come to him by accident.

      He let the shirt fall from his body and started working at his belt. Her mouth went cotton-dry, her eyes fixed on him. She didn’t want to miss anything, not one second. This was her moment—their moment—and she was savoring it.

      Ethan let his belt fall open and undid the fastening on his slacks, tugging his pants and underwear off in one fluid motion.

      She rose up onto her knees, letting her dress fall around her body. She’d expected to feel nervous or unsure, but she didn’t, she knew just what she wanted. She moved forward and gripped his erection, the flesh hot and smooth, different than she’d imagined. When she squeezed him, his head fell back, a raw sound of satisfaction rushing from him.

      She leaned in and flicked her tongue over the head of his shaft, a sharp sensation of desire and power racing through her when he reached out to grab her shoulder, like he needed something to brace himself against, as she had earlier.

      “You want me,” she said, feeling a little bit shocked by the revelation. Not just that he wanted her in a vague, sexual sense, but that he wanted her in the way she wanted him. In that knees-buckling, body-shaking sort of way.

      “More than my next breath,” he panted.

      He moved back onto the bed, his hands moving over her curves as he bent her backward. She stretched out beneath him as he cupped her breast, his thumb skimming her nipple. He dipped his head and tasted her, pulling the hardened tip between his lips.

      She arched, her hips lifting from the bed, and he took advantage, tugging her thong down her legs. She kicked it off the rest of the way, not feeling even a moment’s embarrassment over being naked with him. There was no room for embarrassment. There wasn’t room for anything other than the fierce need she felt to have more of him.

      To feel the rush of orgasm with his body joined to hers. To give him the kind of pleasure he’d already given her.

      He reached over to the side table and fumbled around for a moment before pulling out a condom. “Oh good,” he said. “I don’t have to fire anyone today.”

      “Don’t tell me you knew this would happen.”

      “No. But my suites are always supposed to be stocked with basic amenities.”

      “You really are all about full service.”

      He smiled and pressed a kiss to her neck, then nipped her lightly, immediately following it up with a pass of his tongue. “I told you I was all about service.” He moved his hand down in between her thighs, stroking her, heightening her arousal.

      “I believe it,” she whispered.

      “Ready?” He tore the condom packet open and rolled the protection onto his length quickly before moving back over her.

      “I’ve been ready for a long time,” she said. She put her hands on his shoulders, held onto him as he pushed into her.

      It didn’t hurt, not in the dramatic way it seemed to in some of the books she’d read. But she was thankful that he went slowly, that he gave her a chance to adjust to him, time to savor her first moments of full intimacy with him.

      He flexed his hips and buried himself to the hilt, his muscles locking in place, his breath coming out in harsh, short bursts. “Are you all right?”

      “Great,” she replied. “I’m great.”

      He looked at her, and for a moment she saw darkness in his eyes, a sadness that stole the air from her lungs. She put her hand on his cheeks and kissed his lips.

      “Please, Ethan,” she said.

      His answer was the short thrust of his hips, a movement that sent a sharp burst of pleasure through her. He moved in her, building her desire, low and intense in her pelvis, deeper than the first time. Stronger, which she hadn’t even imagined possible.

      She could feel his control slipping, as each movement became less measured, less controlled. All of that willpower he carried like a millstone around his neck seemed to fall away, leaving only the man, without his civility, without the trappings of modern society.

      Now, in this moment, he was simply a man, and she was a woman—his woman. And she reveled in it, moving with him, against him. She felt she was drowning, not just in pleasure, in emotion. In the connection she felt with him. As if he was truly a part of her.

      She felt whole, and she felt herself splintering into pieces at the same time, her orgasm rushing up, tangling with the tide of emotion that was crashing inside of her. Ethan stiffened above her, her name on his lips as he found his own release.

      This time, it was her turn to hold him, his head resting on her chest, his breath cool on her sweat-slicked skin. Silence filled the room, but it wasn’t awkward. It made the air feel close, like it was holding them together. Keeping them cocooned, shielded from reality. At least for now.

      She ran her fingers through his hair. She didn’t think she could ever get enough—not just of the amazing things he made her feel, but of what it was like simply to have him in her arms. To be in his.

      She didn’t know how long they lay there. But finally Ethan sat up. “I should go take care of some things.”

      He got out of bed and went into the bathroom, returning a few moments later and sliding back in beside her. He pulled her to him, his arms encircling her.

      “I don’t know if there’s any music that can capture this,” she said, moving her fingertips over his chest.

      “If anyone could write it, you could,” he said. “You told me earlier that it wasn’t my business who you’ve slept with, and if you still feel that way, that’s fine. But I’m going to ask anyway.”

      “I’ll save you the trouble. No lovers. None besides music. Isn’t that a dramatic way to put it?”

      “I don’t want to hurt you, Noelle.”

      “Then don’t.”

      “It’s not that simple.”

      “It can be. We’ll stick to the deal. We can have this, whatever it is, and then … and then we’ll both walk away with what we want. That’s simple right?” Even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren’t true.

      “Sounds good.” And she could tell by his answer he knew it too.

      Ethan just held Noelle, not even tempted to slip out of the room and head back to his condo. In fact, that idea was the opposite of appealing.