No Romance Required by Cari Quinn Page B

prayer. “ Yes .”
    So goddamn wet. So fucking hot. The inferno in the room seemed to be inside him now.
     Inside her as he sank deep. Tight and soft, she gripped him in a fiery fist, holding
     him there while he clamped his hands on her thighs and spread her wide.
    Slowly he drove deeper, noting with satisfaction that she still watched her face in
     the mirror. He did, too, riveted by the sight of her mouth widening every time he
     inched in farther. Her lashes fluttered and her taut nipples jutted when she bowed
     back, still maintaining that link between them in the glass.
    He anchored his hands on her waist and tightened at the feel of her coiling her legs
     around his hips. She clasped him deep, rippling around him in silent supplication.
     He traveled as far as he could go, then changed the slant of his thrusts when her
     desperate moans demanded more. He was already steeped in her, her relentless need
     twining urgent ropes of desire around his throat. His cock.
    His heart.
    She pressed her heels against his ass and drew her lean, impossibly toned body up,
     arching in an erotic bridge he thanked the yoga gods for. Then he was plunging into
     her, mindless to everything but the feel of her squeezing him from root to tip. Wrenching
     more pleasure from him than he’d believed he was capable of feeling. Blowing through
     his limits until they were shattered roadblocks on the way to the bliss he’d found
     in her sweet, selfless body.
    He’d lost all control. She’d pushed him to the point where there was nothing but her
     and him, and the magic they made together.
    When the orgasm finally overtook her, the most lovely smile he’d ever seen in his
     life crossed her face. As she succumbed, he did, too, in long, endless pulses that
     shuddered through him and flowed into her, extending her climax. She twitched around
     him, prodding another groan from his throat.
    She’d completely wrecked him.
    Eventually he shifted them onto their sides on the mat. Playfully, she walked her
     fingers up his stomach, but he couldn’t even dredge up a smile. His chest felt too
     tight, as if his overheated skin had shrunk. His heart was still racing. Maybe he
     needed to up his cardio.
    “Tired?” she teased.
    “It’s been a while.” He grimaced at the pile of his discarded clothes, wishing he
     didn’t have to go back to work for the first time in forever.
    With the new stores opening soon, he had a million things to handle. He didn’t do
     days off, nor did he take extra-long dinner breaks. Along with the usual tasks, there
     was the upcoming magazine launch and his parents’ looming retirement. He’d think of
     more, once his synapses figured out how to fire again.
    Other parts of him he’d given up—temporarily—as casualties of war.
    She sifted her fingers through his chest hair. “What’re you thinking?”
    He glanced at her enthusiastic smile and his aching chest locked up. In another minute
     she’d rest her head on his shoulder, and he’d be confronted with all he wasn’t. Maybe
     he’d fooled her for the moment, but the truth always came out.
    She wasn’t going to find his workaholic ways satisfying for long. Soon she’d be bopping
     on to new adventures and he’d be left just…left.
    He opened his mouth to speak just as his phone went off in his jacket. He stood and
     walked over to where he’d dropped it, then snatched his cell from his pocket, never
     more grateful to hear his secretary’s voice. There was an issue at one of the rental
     properties and she couldn’t reach Dillon. Could he come in right away?
    Oh yes, he could.
    “I’m on my way,” he said, hanging up.
    His eyes met Victoria’s. “I have to go. Dill’s unavailable and there’s an issue at
     the Rison. Nancy needs me to come in.”
    She frowned and he swiped off the perspiration on his forehead. If only he could shed
     the guilt as easily. “Right now? Can’t you stay for a few?”
    “Sorry, Nancy’s waiting. But