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.

wet slap of flesh against flesh. My breasts bounce with the efforts of his

such an emotional anomaly to me. As I watch his sculpted body move over me, memories of our brief history flood my

that horrible night, and the instant relief I felt

promised that I still had my job, and

moment in his office when he told me he wanted me with him on

“Dom!”

cry out his name, he leans closer so our naked, sweaty chests are pressed together in an intimate embrace. He moves above

in my fists. I can feel the goose bumps rise on the back of his neck. I can feel him coming close with every shaky breath he takes, and I love knowing that I’m the

His thumb finds my center and rubs it in methodical

I am falling for him. Despite my

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

his elbows over me. His eyes are hooded and his forehead is beaded with sweat. I hold his firm biceps in my shaking hands,

in a blink, he’s gone, both physically and

he ripped off my clothes. He walks across the room, tosses the used condom in the trash, and picks up his boxers, tugging them on. Then he grabs his