“Is it a problem that she has a partner?”
“No, it’s not a problem… I don’t think.” Ryan frowned as she reached for the soap. “I mean, I want her to be happy, and if that’s with someone else, then it’s all good. But Mom in a relationship…. I just can’t get my head around it.”
He couldn’t think about much else in that moment as Faith began washing him. His chest. Her hand gliding over his wet skin.
“Tell me about your tattoos.” Her finger touched each outline on his shoulder and down his arm to his wrist. He felt his body stir to life again.
“The shoulder I got in England when we first started to make it. Each piece is a statement of what I was doing at that time. There is the road we lived in, Talon Road.” He told her about each etching on his arm, and the entire time, she stroked up and down his thigh with a hand, driving him slowly crazy.
“These are for Hope and Mom,” he rasped as her hand moved in toward his groin.
“I love them,” she whispered. Then rising to her toes, she kissed him as her hand stroked him. He was hard and wanted to be back inside her slick heat. Needed it more than his next breath. Pushing her against the wall, he grabbed her thighs and lifted her.
“I need another condom.”
“I’ve had a check and am on the pill.”
“Ditto for the first.” He said the words into her neck. “Wrap your legs around me.”
It had been good the first time, better than good, but this, being inside her with no barriers, was so much more. Where the first was driven by lust, this was an exploration of each other. A slow and desperate need rode him as drove into her. Her breath caught on a slow moan. He teased out her pleasure and his. It was torture, but what a way to go, Ryan thought, gritting his teeth.
He’d remember her like this after he left. Years from now, this vision would be etched in his memory. Wet, wanton, and his. The climax hit him hard, and he shuddered his release into her.
“Faith,” he whispered into her hair as she slumped against him again.
“I’m not sure I can walk.”
“Me either.” He lowered her gently to her feet.
They washed, then got out. Handing her a towel, he dried off with another and wrapped it around his waist, then headed to the bedroom to dress. When he came back out to the kitchen, she’d pulled on her baseball clothes. Ryan handed her a zip-up sweatshirt.
“It’s starting to get cold.”
“Thanks.”
“Jezebel!” Syd squawked, which had Faith laughing.
“I’m not sure if that’s aimed at me or you,” Ryan said.
He poured coffee and mourned the loss of the closeness they’d just shared. She was closing herself off from him, withdrawing—it was there in her face—and likely he was too. His reasons were possibly different from hers, however. Ryan was off-balance. She’d shaken his usual calm.
He called his mom again while Faith drank her coffee and walked around the cabin. Ryan admired her long legs, and something primal surged through him at seeing her in his sweatshirt.
Back it up, bud.
He couldn’t allow himself to feel anything for her.
“Annabelle said it will be hours yet, so Mom and the others have gone home, and they’ll call when Hope’s close.”
“Are you excited about meeting your niece or nephew?”
He nodded.
“She’s happy with Newman.”
“I can see it in her. She was always closed off. We both were. But Newman has opened her up and made her smile. Made her happy.”
Faith’s smile was genuine, the guarded look briefly gone.