Chapter 82 82
This was his Sherry and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest. Even when he felt her body explode beneath his mouth he held tight, needing to fully taste the very essence of her. It was only after the last tremor had left her body that he drew back from the intimate kiss. He glanced up at her, met the dazed look in her eyes and a smile curved his mouth as he licked his lips.
“Best damn Sherry I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting,” he whispered
“I need you,” she breathed, the word barely audible. “I want you inside me.”
Lifting his head, he looked at her, eyes solemn, an errant lock of hair falling over his forehead. He looked young and carefree and as tempting as the devil. “Whatever you want, Sherry.”
He went to his knees and leaned forward, one hand on either side of her. The heat from his body felt like a warm blanket. Nudging her knees a little wider, he fit the head of his erection to her damp core and pushed. Her heels dug into the blanket. Eyelids fluttered shut. Neck arched.
Breathing halted. The sensation of fullness was both novel and overwhelming. “Justin. Oh, Justin.”
How many times had she dreamed of this moment? And been foolish enough to let the fantasies keep her from forming meaningful relationships with other men. She hadn’t consciously saved herself for Justin. After all, after his rejection, most of the time she was able to convince herself that she despised him. But not now. Not like this. Her throat burned and her eyes stung.
Perfection. Desire met and sated. Damp skin to damp skin. Heart to heart. So badly did she want him to say he loved her that it was a sharp pain squeezing her chest. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of intensity, of carnal pleasure. The pace increased. His hips pistoned, driving him deeper into her welcoming body.
Her fingernails scored his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He reached beneath her and canted her hips for one last desperate push. Something exploded inside her, ecstasy and shock and a physical release so deep and utterly breathtaking that she lost a few seconds of reality in the maelstrom.
She heard Justin shout. Seconds later, he slumped on top of her, stealing what little oxygen was left in her lungs. Her arms clung to him automatically. She was beyond rational conversation. Nothing seemed real. Not the place. Not the feelings. Not even the big, raw-boned man smothering her with his hot skin, ragged breath and beautiful body.
As delight winnowed away with the ticking of the clock on the mantel, panic set in. What had she done? It had taken her years to recover from her first romantic debacle with Justin. At twenty-three she had been mature for her age in terms of goal-setting and a life plan. And though some might say in retrospect that she’d had nothing more than a crush on a man much older than she was, Sherry knew the truth.
She had been in love. The real deal. Despite what had happened back then…and even through the intervening years of guarded hostility on her part, based on tonight’s utterly unexpected, and unbelievably wonderful events, the truth was impossible to evade.
Sherry Bennet was still in love with Justin Covington.
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Sherry yawned as she woke up, her brain fuzzy.
She allowed herself one last moment to savor the odd but lovely sensation of sleeping with a man. Justin radiated heat. She was curled into his side with one bent leg across his hips and her face tucked against his chest. Sometime during the wee hours he had pulled the covers on top of them. She didn’t know what to do, and that was such an anomaly, she felt mildly claustrophobic.
Ordinarily, she always knew what to do. Sometimes she mapped out a plan. More often than not, she plunged ahead, full speed, confident that she could handle whatever might be coming down the track.
But that was in business. Her work was her life, a sad thing sometimes, but there it was. Justin murmured in his sleep, drawing her attention back to his classic profile and warm-man smell. She would bottle that aroma if she could. His lashes lay dark on his cheeks, and his chest rose and fell with deep, regular breathing.
Slowly, stealthily, she extracted herself from muscular arms and scrambled to her feet. It was no wonder he was dead to the world. He’d been up for hours, either trying to get warm, or later, turning Sherry's world upside down with a sexual marathon that had included one last coupling as the fire died. The memory drew a quiet groan of amazement from her throat.
The problem with Justin was that he seemed on the surface to be the perfect guy. As long as she overlooked the everlasting beef between him and her brother and the fact that he was ready to play daddy. The thought of having Justin's baby both mesmerised and terrified her. That was why she had given him an ultimatum regarding sex. She had too much self-preservation to buy into the fiction that she and Justin could ever work as a couple.
It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to don her gown and robe instead of waking Justin deliberately and watching his eyes heat with passion. One of her slippers had slid under a chair, but she finally located it. The sensible plan was to take a shower, and then find a way to convince Justin to introduce her to Mark to discuss Sunny side… Without agreeing to his ridiculous request to marry him.
Justin never moved as she tiptoed to the door and opened it stealthily. With one last wistful glance at the man in front of the fire, she slipped out across the hall and into the safety of her bedroom.
_________
Justin waited until he heard the door close to sigh deeply and roll onto his back. He had awakened when Sherry was dressing. Rubbing eyes that were gritty from lack of sleep, he forced himself to face the fact that she had run out on him. So much for warm cuddling and perhaps further bonding over morning sex.
Given her behavior in the last sixty seconds, Sherry was not interested.
As rejections went, her dismissal was quiet…polite even, at least when compared to her rejection to his terrible proposal yesterday.