Page 144 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

I stripped out of my boxers and stared down at the woman that made me feel things I never thought possible. I had a job to do and I would never not do it, but I also knew I would never be reckless again. I had too much to live for.

My phone was sitting on the nightstand. I quickly unlocked it and opened my music app. I had created a new playlist just for us.

The first beats of “Fire on the Floor” by Beth Hart filtered through the speaker in the corner.

When I looked back at her, she arched her eyebrows. “This is new.”

“I had some time while I watched you sleep. And breathe.”

“I like it.”

“Good. Because when I’m flying, this is the playlist I’m going to have on. I’m going to make love to you through every one of these songs. Every time I hear one, it’s going to remind me of you. Of this night. And you better believe that’s going to be the inspiration I need to get back here to you.”

Her lips curved. “How long is the playlist?”

I grabbed my phone. “Two hours and twelve minutes.”

“Well let’s hope we both survive.”

“Oh, Princess, you’ll not just survive, you’re going to soar.”

I crawled on top of her, my weight pressing her into the mattress. My fingers traced circles around her nipples. She arched up against me, seeking more contact. When she whimpered, I took one hardened peak between my teeth, pulling a sharp gasp from her. I moved to the other breast and did the same thing, loving the way she squirmed under me.

I smiled against her skin and kissed over her breasts and then up to the spot below her ear. She gasped as one of my hands found its way between her legs again, fingers teasing at her entrance which was still slick from earlier. I thrust my fingers inside her roughly, feeling how eager she was for me even after getting off earlier.

“You’re already so wet for me,” I murmured against her neck, my fingers working in and out of her slowly. “I love it.”

She rolled her hips against my hand, seeking more friction. “Stop teasing me.”

“Never,” I said, but I positioned myself between her legs anyway because I didn’t think I could hold back. We had both waited for sex. I knew both of us needed the healing. But now, I had to have her. The head of my cock nudged at her entrance. “I want to take my time with you.”

“We have all night,” she whispered, her hands roaming over my chest, tracing the tattoos there. “But right now, I need you inside me.”

I pushed into her slowly, watching her face as she adjusted to me. Her eyes fluttered closed, lips parting on a soft moan that nearly undid me. God, she felt perfect. Like she was made for me.

“Look at me,” I said roughly. “I want to see you.”

Her blue eyes opened, locking with mine as I began to move. Slow, deep strokes that had her clinging to my shoulders. The music played around us, but all I could hear was her breathing, the soft sounds she made when I hit that spot inside her.

“Wicked Games” by Chris Isaac filled the room.

“Dalton,” she breathed, her nails digging into my back.

I knew every time I heard one of these songs, I would be right back in this bed.

“I’m right here,” I said, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, anywhere I could reach. “I’m not going anywhere.”

But we both knew that wasn’t true. Tomorrow might change everything. So I poured everything I had into this moment, into showing her what she meant to me. The way she responded, the way she moved beneath me, told me she was doing the same.

I was already planning how I was going to make this last. Two hours and twelve minutes of loving her like my life depended on it.

Because maybe it did.

Two hours and twenty minutes later, we lay tangled together in my sheets, both of us spent and breathing hard. The playlist had ended ten minutes ago. Janna was curled against my chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over my ribs.

“That was…” she started, then trailed off.

“Yeah,” I agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It was.”