Rekindled by Maisey Yates

was confused.”
    “Were you?”
    “I’ve never had sex that good. But I’ve also never had sex when I wasn’t married to
     the man I was having it with. So I’m used to there being, if not feelings, a commitment.
     It’s always been really important to me. So this whole just-go-with-your-baser-instincts
     thing is all new to me.”
    “You seem to be doing a pretty good job of it.”
    “Thanks.” She pressed her palm flat against him.
    “Geez.” His hand shot up, fingers forking through her hair, tugging hard. “You’re
     going to kill me.”
    “Nope. That’s not the plan.” She dropped down slowly onto her knees, her thigh muscles
     shaking a bit. “This is.” She leaned in and flicked her tongue over the head of his
     shaft. She used the water sluicing over his skin to make her movements smooth as she
     worked her hand up and down his length, along with her lips and tongue.
    She’d never really enjoyed doing this. Had never really wanted to. In fact, before,
     she’d always actively avoided it. But she wanted to do it with Mac. Wanted to explore
     every inch of him. To find a way to make him feel the same sort of explosion of release
     that she’d felt earlier. Because surely what she’d felt wasn’t normal. Surely it was
     nearly impossible to match. But she wanted to try. Because he’d shown her something
     she hadn’t even realized she’d been missing.
    She lost herself in him, in the way his muscles shook beneath her hands, in the way
     he tightened his fingers in her hair when he got too close to the edge and had to
     anchor himself in some way.
    She knew what he was feeling, because he’d already made her feel it.
    “Okay, done now,” he said, reaching down and gripping her arms and guiding her back
     into a standing position. “That was going to end way too fast.”
    “Well, we don’t want that,” she said.
    “No, we don’t. I’d like this to make it to a soft surface. The wall was nice but I’d
     like to go a little slower this time.” He shut the water off and took her hand, pushing
     the door open and tugging her back out into the bathroom.
    He took a towel off of the rack and draped it over her shoulders. He rubbed the terrycloth
     over her skin, down her back, her butt, her thighs. There was something so intimate
     about the simple action. Something that, for a moment, transcended sex.
    And then he turned her around and pressed her body against his, kissing her deeply,
     walking her back into the bedroom, and just like that, she was rescued from the strange
     tenderness in her chest.
    She managed to escape his hold and saunter to the bed, climbing on and lying back
     against the pillows. She didn’t feel shy around him. Or like she needed low light,
     or to suck in her stomach and find a flattering angle. Because he didn’t look at her
     with a critical eye. He didn’t look like he was searching for a flaw, a weakness to
     exploit.
    He looked at her, and all she could see was need.
    He joined her on the bed, covering her body with his, every inch of him pressed against
     every inch of her. He reached to the bedside table and took a condom from the drawer,
     deftly rolling it on before positioning himself between her thighs.
    “Wait,” he said. “One thing first.”
    He lowered his head and drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, an arrow of
     pleasure piercing her low in her pelvis. He moved down her body, tracing a trail over
     her skin with the tip of his tongue.
    He sat up, then he gripped her hips and tugged her toward him, lowering his head to
     her core and tasting her slowly, leisurely.
    She grabbed hold of his shoulders, and she was pretty sure she was adding to the marks
     she’d already left. And she really didn’t care. She squirmed beneath him, heat roaring
     through her, a living, burning flame that threatened to consume everything in its
     path.
    He shifted and penetrated her with a finger while he continued the sensual assault
     with his mouth.