Read Online Time to Pretend by Michele Zurlo - Free Book Online
Authors: Michele Zurlo
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filled her. He took her prisoner. In that moment, she was his, completely his. She arched her back and met his thrusts, crashing into him faster and faster. Heat coiled, bringing the beginnings of sweet tension with her. This wasn’t going to be a short, quick orgasm. This was going to be major, soul-sucking and earth-shattering. She expected no less from this Casanova.
His fingers threaded through hers, and he pressed her hands to the bed as he held his weight away from her chest. Alaina took in the sight of his long, lean body hovering over hers. Her feet planted on the mattress, using the position to give her thrusts more power. Her pale legs pressed against his darker thighs. She liked the contrast.
56
Michele Zurlo
“Lainie,” he moaned. “You feel so good, Lainie.” She clenched around him. “Don’t come yet,” she warned. She was close, but not that close.
He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her hard. His thrusts slowed. She moaned in protest. Dropping down suddenly, he hiked her knees over his shoulders. The change let him go deeper into her.
He thrust faster and harder, and she was unable to move, to control anything.
Her climax broke, and she screamed, her pussy contracting around him violently and wringing the climax he had held off.
He collapsed, rolling them both to the side and held her tightly in his arms. She listened to his heartbeat filling the massive, comfortable silence. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to make the silence uncomfortable. She knew it was coming. It couldn’t help but come.
When two people who fought as much as they did suddenly leapt into a postcoital situation, discomfort was the inevitable outcome.
She braced herself for it, and she prepared to make the transition easy. There was nothing emotional between them. Incredible sex had a way of making it seem like an intimacy existed that wasn’t truly there. As much as she craved that intimacy, she knew it would never happen, not with Daniel. Not with a man who carried around condoms because he never knew when he’d find a willing partner.
Or maybe he did know. Maybe he had plans that evening. Maybe somewhere a date waited impatiently for him to pick her up and take her to dinner. Her stomach growled before she could imagine the specifics of him hopping from her bed to a bed that probably belonged to one of the blonde bimbos he preferred.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sounds like you need dinner.”
“I was going to make spaghetti,” she said, rolling away from him to snag a T-shirt and a pair of light sweats from the pile of laundry in the chair next to her bed. She didn’t want to suggest take-out or something that implied she expected him to stay.
Time to Pretend
57
“I like spaghetti,” he said, responding as if her statement had been an invitation. When she turned around, he greeted her wearing his jeans and a lazy smile. Pulling her close, he pressed an equally lazy kiss to her lips. “This is the first time I’ve seen you not dressed up as the good doctor. I like it.”
Ahhh, there it was. Her label. She was The Good Doctor, the unattainable woman. It was a safe title, one that provided the necessary distance so that he could abandon her without regret. She wasn’t of his social group, so a dalliance of this sort was destined to be short-term, a one-night stand.
Alaina could wear her armor well. She had plenty of practice.
Drawing back, she ran a hand through hair that had to resemble something from a horror movie or a comedy. “Are you staying for dinner?”
Daniel drew a finger along her jaw, refusing to accept the openings she gave him to leave. “You can’t dangle spaghetti in front of a man who needs to refuel for the next round and expect him to refuse.”
She blinked at him. “The next round?” Twisting one finger in the waistband of her sweats, he tugged her closer. “Sweetheart, we’ve only just begun. The night is young.” The spicy scent of his skin and
His fingers threaded through hers, and he pressed her hands to the bed as he held his weight away from her chest. Alaina took in the sight of his long, lean body hovering over hers. Her feet planted on the mattress, using the position to give her thrusts more power. Her pale legs pressed against his darker thighs. She liked the contrast.
56
Michele Zurlo
“Lainie,” he moaned. “You feel so good, Lainie.” She clenched around him. “Don’t come yet,” she warned. She was close, but not that close.
He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her hard. His thrusts slowed. She moaned in protest. Dropping down suddenly, he hiked her knees over his shoulders. The change let him go deeper into her.
He thrust faster and harder, and she was unable to move, to control anything.
Her climax broke, and she screamed, her pussy contracting around him violently and wringing the climax he had held off.
He collapsed, rolling them both to the side and held her tightly in his arms. She listened to his heartbeat filling the massive, comfortable silence. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to make the silence uncomfortable. She knew it was coming. It couldn’t help but come.
When two people who fought as much as they did suddenly leapt into a postcoital situation, discomfort was the inevitable outcome.
She braced herself for it, and she prepared to make the transition easy. There was nothing emotional between them. Incredible sex had a way of making it seem like an intimacy existed that wasn’t truly there. As much as she craved that intimacy, she knew it would never happen, not with Daniel. Not with a man who carried around condoms because he never knew when he’d find a willing partner.
Or maybe he did know. Maybe he had plans that evening. Maybe somewhere a date waited impatiently for him to pick her up and take her to dinner. Her stomach growled before she could imagine the specifics of him hopping from her bed to a bed that probably belonged to one of the blonde bimbos he preferred.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sounds like you need dinner.”
“I was going to make spaghetti,” she said, rolling away from him to snag a T-shirt and a pair of light sweats from the pile of laundry in the chair next to her bed. She didn’t want to suggest take-out or something that implied she expected him to stay.
Time to Pretend
57
“I like spaghetti,” he said, responding as if her statement had been an invitation. When she turned around, he greeted her wearing his jeans and a lazy smile. Pulling her close, he pressed an equally lazy kiss to her lips. “This is the first time I’ve seen you not dressed up as the good doctor. I like it.”
Ahhh, there it was. Her label. She was The Good Doctor, the unattainable woman. It was a safe title, one that provided the necessary distance so that he could abandon her without regret. She wasn’t of his social group, so a dalliance of this sort was destined to be short-term, a one-night stand.
Alaina could wear her armor well. She had plenty of practice.
Drawing back, she ran a hand through hair that had to resemble something from a horror movie or a comedy. “Are you staying for dinner?”
Daniel drew a finger along her jaw, refusing to accept the openings she gave him to leave. “You can’t dangle spaghetti in front of a man who needs to refuel for the next round and expect him to refuse.”
She blinked at him. “The next round?” Twisting one finger in the waistband of her sweats, he tugged her closer. “Sweetheart, we’ve only just begun. The night is young.” The spicy scent of his skin and
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