Eliot responded to the tenderness with a low, rumbling growl. He hadn't even thought about using a condom, he'd just wanted her so bad, he wasn't thinking about things like that. His hips drove harder and deeper when he did think of it, because she felt so good, so hot and wet and tight around him. He gasped and rolled his head to bite down on her shoulder. She'd probably have half a dozen bruises in the shape of his mouth, and he'd lick and caress every one.
He was so close to orgasm, his muscles strained with the effort of keeping the motions going. His side ached where he'd been kicked, and everything ached with need. He wasn't ready to say he loved her, but he did, in his own way. He recognised it as something intense and raw and real, something so powerful and vulnerable and volatile, something he'd never felt before. It surpassed what he'd felt for Aimee, what he'd felt for his brother. It matched what he felt for Riley, and yet was completely different at the same time. Love was the only word he could give to it, even if he couldn't say it, it crashed through him in the rush of his orgasm.