Seven Nights of Sin (Penthouse Affair #2)

Presley

Tonight has taken a turn I never could have imagined. I know I should guard my heart, that I shouldn’t romanticize this moment, but it’s too late. We move together perfectly, my soft pants punctuating the moment that has grown heavy with expectation.

His cuff links rest beside my earrings on the bedside table. Our laptop bags sit side by side on the floor near the desk. I have no idea what it all means, but something big, surely.

I feel so many warring emotions at once, it’s hard to focus on them all. First, there’s pleasure unlike any I’ve ever known. But more than that, there’s relief at his forgiveness, and somehow too, I can also feel him releasing all the baggage of his past, excising it with precision as our bodies meld together.

Dominic fills me in a way I never could have imagined. He must feel it too, this powerful pull, because we release a simultaneous groan in the otherwise silent room.

He withdraws briefly, guiding me onto my back so he can hover over me. In this new position, I can see his eyes. I just wish his emotions were as easy to read as his pleasure.

His pupils are dilated and his lips part with a silent moan. He pushes in to the hilt, and I wrap my legs high around his hips, grinding myself closer.

“Uh . . . that’s so good, baby.” He groans, his voice deep.

I know by now not to read too much into the sweet endearment.

fingernails into his shoulders for stability. I can hear the sounds of our sex, a loud, wet slap of flesh against flesh. My breasts bounce with the efforts of his

anomaly to me. As I watch his sculpted body move

me up on that horrible night, and the instant relief I

his gruff voice over the phone promised that I still had my job,

me he wanted me

“Dom!”

our naked, sweaty chests are pressed together in an intimate embrace. He moves above me, taking everything I have

on the back of his neck. I can feel him coming close with every

earlobe, and my lips, I can feel the secret tenderness he tries so desperately to keep reined in. His thumb finds my center and rubs it in methodical circles, just how he knows I like. As I get closer and closer to the edge, my eyelids flutter closed and I brace

I am falling for him. Despite my best efforts, I have

me close, holding me against his chest as I tremble

soft grunt, and his grip on me tightens as he finds his own release. The sound he’s making—somewhere between a gasp and a groan—is like a drug.

are hooded and his forehead is beaded with sweat. I hold his firm biceps in my

he’s gone, both physically and

room, tosses the used condom in the trash, and picks up his boxers, tugging them on. Then he grabs his laptop. He’s already on his way into the living room of the suite when I find