Anda’s back bounced lightly off the wall she’d just been shoved against. She pushed the man away, then gripped his lapels and pulled him against her. “Ethan.”
“Christ, Anda.” He pounced on her lips, and she was every bit as demanding in return.
She tugged at his uniform—holy God, her Ethan in dress blues and purples was a goddamn fucking miracle to behold—and he grabbed the edge of her dress and started to push it up.
It had been months—three months, eight days, and five hours, but who was counting?—since they’d last seen each other. They’d tried to arrange a meeting sooner, but something had always kept them apart.
One look, one long, heated glance after he’d arrived at her hotel room door, was all they needed. Now, they were tearing each other apart in the most delicious way possible.
A minute later, she was naked.
Another minute after that, so was he.
Two minutes after that, they were bare and breathless against the wall and he was inside her.
“Oh my God. Ethan. Ethan,” she groaned. She missed this.
She missed him. Missed his scent and his taste and his full fucking cock. Missed his humour and grace and kindness and roughness. She missed nearly everything about him. She couldn’t help it…
She loved him.
Her head fell back against the wall, her legs wrapping around his lean waist. Her fingers fisted in his hair and she forced those talented lips to her nipple.
He teased her even there, licking, sucking, and nipping her sensitive flesh with his teeth before kissing up her cleavage and chest to her neck.
He was thrusting harder now, needing the release as quickly as she did. “Come on, my Anda. Come.”
My Anda. The words ignited her, and she let out a soft, throaty scream as she convulsed around him.
“Yeeesssss.” He drove into her again and again and again. “Yes! Goddamn it, yes!” He thrust once more, groaning against her neck as he came.
She held him there, his head curled against her neck, his cock buried inside her, her limbs wrapped around him and holding him tight.
She wished she didn’t need to let go. Yet, she’d have to. She’d always have to let go of him.
