His palm skated across my lower back. “Come lie with me. Try to sleep, or you’ll never get adjusted to the time difference.”
I sighed. “I need to change into my pajamas first. I can’t sleep in jeans.”
“Go ahead. I won’t peek.” He slapped his hand over his eyes.
“There’s a perfectly good bathroom for me to change in. No need for you to use up every ounce of your chivalry in one night.”
The only response I got was a low, rumbling groan.
“Don’t complain.”
“M’not. You were keeping me warm. Hurry up with your changing, wife. It’s cold in this old castle.”
Honestly, he was right. I was chilled deep into my bones as I rifled through my suitcase and pulled out a pair of pajamas. In a few short minutes, I was changed, my teeth brushed and face washed. But by the time I crawled under the covers, Taylor was sound asleep, softly snoring. He’d probably be hungover tomorrow, but I was glad he’d had the chance to catch up with his sister. She obviously meant the world to him. Seeing him in this light was already changing how I thought about him.
As I snuggled down in the bed, he made a happy sound, like a contented sigh, and rolled toward me, one hand sliding onto my waist. I didn’t stop him. I wanted his touch. His warmth. This version of him who was open and kind.
“Goodnight, Tink,” he murmured.
“Goodnight, Hook.”
14
TAYLOR
I didn’t wantto take advantage of her being tired or half asleep, but the way she moved against me and grabbed my hand, pulling it to her lower belly, was torture. Then she moaned my name and pushed my palm down, down, down between her thighs.
“More, Taylor. Touch me.”
When I slipped my fingers between her legs, her little groan had me nearly coming apart.
But I stilled. I made myself back away, taking slow, deep breaths as I worked to calm myself. The last thing I needed was for her to think I wasn’t genuine in my affection. I had to rein in my desire.
All I wanted was her. If I was honest, I’d needed her for so long, but she made up her mind about me because of my own mistakes. I hadn’t kissed her since our wedding, even though I wanted to. I’d come close a few times but hadn’t given in.
I needed to go. If I didn’t, I’d do something stupid, like kiss her.
She wriggled closer, whispering, “Taylor.”
“You’d better tell me to stop, because I am desperate to feel you, hen.” I pressed my lips to her ear and whispered, “I’m dying for you, Becca, and I’m at your mercy.”
She sighed my name again and tilted her hips so her perfect arse rocked into my throbbing erection. “Don’t stop, Taylor. Please don’t stop.”
“Oh, lass, there’s only one thing I’d ever want to hear from your lips other than that.”
“What is it?”
I couldn’t tell her I wanted to hear her say she loved me. That would scare her away, and I’d just gotten her to stop hating me.
“Are you sure you want this?”
“I need... I need you to make me feel good. It’s been so long.”
“When was the last time a man made you feel good, sweetheart?”
She stayed silent for a minute before rolling her hips again, then she took my hand and slid it inside her pants, under the waistband of her panties, to the neatly trimmed thatch of hair that hid her pussy from me.
“Since I slept with a man? Or since someone made me...”