Free The Watson Brothers by Lori Foster

shuddered. “All right.” After levering himself up on one elbow, Sam reached down with his other hand to guide himself in. Ariel saw that he was shaking, the high color in his face, how impossibly blue his eyes looked. The broad head of his penis nudged her soft opening, pushed marginally inside.
    Sam locked his jaw. “You are so damn wet.”
    “I know.” She flushed. “I can’t help it.”
    “It’s good. Damn good.” He sank in a bit deeper with a groan. “Small and tight.” His jaw worked as he forced himself into her. “And all mine.”
    Ariel’s heart lurched at those possessive words. “Yes. Always.”
    But he didn’t seem to know what she said, or even what he’d said. His eyes were glazed, burning as he stared down at her and she saw the acute pleasure in his face as her body accepted him. There was a stretching sensation, a little burning, but no real pain. She felt full, complete. Wonderfully alive.
    Suddenly his shoulders bunched. He cursed, squeezed his eyes shut; then he snapped. He thrust into her, causing her to lose her breath in one startled gasp of mingled discomfort and joy.
    “I’m sorry,” he rasped, even as he slid back out, then stroked in deeper again, gaining a rhythm, harder and faster with each turn.
    I love you, Sam . But the words were only in Ariel’s mind. She held him, cradling his big body close to her heart while he thrust heavily into her, his arms locked tight around her, his face pressed into the side of her throat. He was sweaty, heat pouring off him, and then he arched his back, burying himself so deeply that Ariel cried out.
    His face was beautiful, harshly masculine, etched with pleasure so sharp it mirrored pain. Ariel smiled at him, stroked his chest and shoulders until the tremors passed, his primal growls faded, and he slowly sank down onto her.
    The carpet on her back prickled, her thighs ached, and Sam’s weight pressed her down, making it difficult to breathe. But she didn’t want to move. Not ever.
    Without lifting his head, Sam said, his voice a sleepy rumble, “You probably have carpet burns on your ass now to add to your other injuries.”
    Ariel giggled.
    Smiling, he forced his head up to see her. “That damn laugh,” he said fondly. And he kissed her.
    Ariel was so full of love, she couldn’t imagine being any happier.
    “You all right?”
    Dreamily, she sighed. “I’m perfect.”
    “Yeah.” He sat up beside her, his back against the side of the bed, one leg bent, and he looked at her body. He shook his head in chagrin. “That you are. But you’ll be more perfect after a shower and some sleep.”
    Oh no. Panic twisted inside her, but she tried to hide it. “Sam, are you sending me home?”
    He shrugged, scooped her up as he stood, groaned at the pain in his shoulder and ribs, and then looked at her. “Unless you want to spend the night. Up to you.”
    Her heart raced. “You don’t mind if I stay?”
    Taking that as an affirmation that she wanted to, Sam headed for the bathroom. “The damage is done—but I’m not. Be forewarned though. If you stay, I plan to take you at least a few more times.” He looked down at her. “In a few more ways.”
    Filled with relief, Ariel put her head on his shoulder. “Maybe,” she said, tugging at his crisp chest hair, “I’ll just take you instead.”
    He stopped in midstride, groaned again, then rushed her into the bathroom and stood her in the tub. “Virgins are the very devil.” He turned away as he removed the spent condom.
    “Ex-virgins.” When he joined her in the tub, Ariel admired his body with eyes and hands and a few well-placed kisses. She liked the way his dark chest hair tapered off into a long thin line down his body. It circled his navel, then arrowed down to his groin, surrounding and framing his heavy sex.
    “Right.” Sam took her mouth, smothering her screech of outrage when he turned the cold water on full blast and it hit her in the back. “An ex-pushy virgin who