I move my fingertips up and over his shoulder, tracing the dips and swells of his muscled back. His skin is soft and lightly tanned. A trait that the Riggs siblings are blessed with having. Tanned olive skin year-round. My olive tones like to wash out in the winter months. In the dead of January, I’m pale and look more Scandinavian now that my hair is blonde, versus the Italian Mediterranean blood running through my veins. Whereas he looks like a god.
“I’m so comfy, but I need to pee. And maybe shower.”
He makes a noise to rebuke the idea and shifts his arms around my waist to hold me. “Go pee. I’ll get us water. Then you get your ass back to this bed. I’m not done with you yet.”
Moving his face into my chest, he kisses my right breast.
“I need to fuck you again before you get cleaned up,” he says as he presses light kisses on my skin, brushing his lips against me. “Then you’re going to suck my cock in that shower. And then I’m going to eat that delicious pussy for dinner by the pool.”
“I like this itinerary, baby.”
“Say that again,” he says.
I laugh at the request. “I like your itinerary.”
“Not that part.” He pulls back from my tits and looks up at me. Vulnerable and sweet. Nothing like he’s been with me over the years. At least not when anyone is looking.
I smile at this big, rough man. “Baby?”
“Yea. I like you calling me that.”
I lean over and smile into a light kiss on his lips. “I like everything you just said, baby.”
He shifts up and meets my kiss more fervently. His hands finding my neck and pulling my mouth toward his. The pressure of his lips mixed with the softness of his request has created an entirely new layer to this man that I couldn’t try to hate ever again. But before I overthink the magnitude of any of it or freak out that this moment has a built-in expiration date, I pull back. I was only getting up to pee.
Don’t lie, avoid the UTI.That’s always been my motto. And after that showing, it’s necessary. With another quick peck on his lips, I hustle away from his body. If I don’t move fast, I’ll be lulled back into it.
“Be right back.”
He pinches one of my ass cheeks upon my escape. “Hurry up. I’m not feeling very patient anymore, Pixie. Now that I’ve had you…” I shut the door to the en suite. Through the door, I hear him say, “I need so much more.”
Me too, baby. Me too.
35
Henry
The small beautymarks on her back, peppered heavier around her shoulders and trailing down her spine, are like a constellation. There’s no pattern to them, only the notion that her tiny imperfections mingle with the beautiful ink she’s woven there. A few small hearts, a large vine that expands from one shoulder to the other, connecting colorful flowers.
I drag my fingers over them, tracing the artwork she loves so much. A canvas I’ve never been privileged to touch in this way. Until now.
My touch drifts lightly as if they’re able to soothe her and satiate me. Today is almost over. The sun set a few minutes ago. She fell asleep about an hour before that. And while my body is tired, I’m afraid to fall asleep. I’ve waited for what feels like a lifetime to be with her, and now, I have her. It seems dumb to waste our moment on sleep.Two days.
I know it’s what she said, but the truth of the matter is, and always has been, that I’m in love with a woman who will never allow herself to love me.
Two days.We said two days to work out this insane chemistry. Make sure she feels safe, cared for, and coveted. Then move forward. Move forward as if I’ve never felt her mouth on my cock. Forget how she tastes on my tongue. The way we kiss, or how she feels held in my arms.That’snever going to happen. Forgetting. You don’t forget the taste, the smell, the feel of the woman your soul craves. Everything else will be muted. Everyone will be less.
She moves and sucks in a breath. I can tell by her quiet, uneven breathing that she’s awake. So I draw letters, numbers, and lines along her back. I don’t say anything that I’m thinking. I get lost in the feeling of her smooth skin under my callused fingertips.
I draw the same thing over and over again. Wondering if she can feel it. Recognize it.
The room has gotten darker in the past few minutes. She must be hungry for actual food. I’m starving. And if I’m starving, then she’s minutes away from gettinghangry.
“Lower,” she whispers.
“Here?” I move my fingers to her lower back just before the curve of her ass.
“Lower.”