Day's End by Colleen Vanderlinden Page B

pulled back and studied me. “You seem a little freaked out by this.”
    “I’m not.” He gave me a look. “Okay, I am, but not because I don’t want to. I’m just… ”
    “What?”
    “I’m not super experienced. I’ve only done this twice.”
    “Is that supposed to bother me?”
    “It’s been a long time. That’s all I’m saying.”
    “I bet it’s been longer for me,” he said. The elevator dinged, and we walked out and through the corridors toward the residence wing.
    “I doubt that.”
    “Okay. The last time I did this was three years ago. I don’t remember her name. Somebody I met when Alpha send me down to Chicago on some stupid assignment.”
    “I totally have you beat,” I said, blushing.
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah.”
    He glanced over at me. “So you and Killjoy?”
    I shook my head. “I was twenty, and he was a guy in my history class and it was over before I even knew it had started. It’s been over five years for me.”
    We got to my suite and I let us in. The second the door was closed, Ryan turned me around and backed me up to it, and then his lips were on mine again. His hands roamed my body. This, we’d done. His hands already knew my body, what I liked, what didn’t do anything for me. He’d put that same detail-oriented focus into learning how to touch me that he seemed to put into everything he did. So when he firmly squeezed my breasts, he knew it was what I wanted. When he tweaked and pinched my nipples through the thin satin of my bra, he already knew about the strangled moans it would elicit.
    “Goddamn, I need you,” he growled in my ear. He started kissing and nibbling his way down my neck while his hands worked their own kind of magic on my aching breasts, while he pressed his body against mine, trapping me against the door in a way that made me feel vulnerable and needy all at once.
    I knew he was waiting for me. He was giving me the chance to tell him to back off, to slow down.
    I reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt.
    “You’re sure?” he whispered as he ran his hands up my back.
    “Yes.”
    He unclasped the back of my bra. We had one another undressed in what felt like an instant, and still, he kept my body pressed against the door.
    He was warm, solid, hard against me.
    I shoved at him a little, backing him toward my bedroom door. He went, walking backwards, his lips and hands still busy playing my body in a way I thought only existed in the imaginations of the authors of some of my favorite romance novels. His fingers plucked and rubbed my nipples while his mouth ravished mine. I kept walking him backward until his legs hit my mattress, and then I gently pushed him back. He settled himself on my bed, legs dangling off the end of the mattress, and looked up at me.
    God, he was beautiful. Hard, flexing muscle, dark hair across his chest, another light trail of it leading from his navel down to what was a pretty damn impressive erection.
    “I can honestly say I’ve never had anything that big in me before,” I told him, and he laughed.
    “I bet you can handle it, though.”
    “Oh, I’m going to handle it. Often,” I told him. I reached forward and took him in my hand, and he groaned. I moved my hand over him, and he put his hand over mine.
    “Harder,” he told me through gritted teeth, and I held him firmer, massaged him more firmly. I was mesmerized by the feel of him, the sensation of his strong thighs under my legs as I settled myself onto him, the way his breath hitched and he cursed, low and hoarse, as I worked him in my hand.
    “Jolene,” he growled, and the desperation in his voice was like an aphrodisiac. I’d been worried. Nervous. I’ve never let myself be this vulnerable with anyone, this naked, this unguarded. It was like he knew that I needed this. I needed control, just for a little while. It’s just the way I’m wired, to want to be in charge.
    Except with him. I’m willing to share control with him. Mostly.
    “I want you.