Where We Meet Again, стр. 73

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Rhett. Good guy, but shit luck. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I thought you were here to build a strip mall?”

His fingers squeeze. “Doing that, too. I had my eye on the job for a couple months. After I saw you and knew I wanted to stick around for a while, I put in the bid.”

He loses my gaze as I take it all in. I’m quiet, but he isn’t done.

“I need a house now, because the other one’s done. This land is mine, the plans are drawn, the only thing I need now is you.”

The only thing…

I need now…

Is.

You.

I give him my eyes and grip his face in both hands. The scratchiness of his stubble against my palms ground me. Touching him feels as natural as breathing. At the same time, I still can’t believe he’s here. I imagine it will take some time to get over.

He’s so direct in what he’s saying; but he also isn’t saying what I need him to say. Misinterpreting him at this point will obliterate me. I manage a shuddering breath and ask the question that terrifies me to no end and fills me with so much happiness I could burst.

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“No, I’m asking you to live this beautiful life with me.”

“Law.” I exhale shakily, struggling to break through the hope that overtakes every pore, every single molecule that completes me.

“I don’t give a fuck about a piece of paper, Cami, but if you want it, it’s yours. So long as you’re mine.”

He can’t be any clearer. Using the grip I already have, I yank him into me and down. Nestling back into the pillows, he rolls partly on top of me as our lips connect. I hope this is as clear of a response. A groan rumbles so deeply from his chest I feel the vibrations against mine. My nipples tighten and a warmth hums low in my belly.

I match him in the level of heat, kissing him with fourteen years of missed opportunities. Beneath the blankets, his hand skims my waist, moving lower to dip beneath my shirt. He trails his fingers up and over the skin of my tummy to find my breast. Our mouths separate with an audible smack when he abruptly pulls back.

“Where’s your bra?” he growls heatedly. The sun’s now high enough to provide enough light to see the desire swirling in his eyes.

“Seeing as there was a caveman, oh…” I moan as he pinches my nipple between his finger and thumb, pulling and rolling while watching me from above. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, getting off on seeing the pleasure he brings me. “…early this morning, I didn’t have t-time to put one on.”

His fingers walk south, and he ducks his head to nip the skin on my neck. “Forget anything else?”

My answer slides out of me in the form of a moan, because just then, he discovers for himself if I have on underwear. “No…”

One thick finger finds the wetness and pushes deep inside. He cups me there, his grip possessive, as he works his finger in and out. Slow, smooth strokes. Too slow. Too much time has passed since the last time I had him, and I need him inside me now.

I lose the ability to speak when he takes my mouth again, so I get my point across by shoving my hands between us and cupping his erection. His hips jerk, and he thrusts himself into my palm. Our kisses turn frantic with need. His tongue goes from slow and exploring to spearing into my mouth. I get his button undone and yank his cock out as he breaks from our kiss.

“Fuck, are you mine, Cami?” He pants and digs his heels into the pillows to push himself farther into my hand.

There are only so many ways to answer that, but I have the perfect one. My palm slides up and around the head of his cock, gliding back down as I move further beneath the blankets and crawl between his legs. What little room available is cramped, but I don’t care. What I do care about is getting contact with as much of him as I can. My fingers curl into his jeans at mid-thigh, and with his assistance, I work them off. A hand on each leg, I run them up until they meet at the juncture of his thighs, which happens to be my intended target. One hand slides to cup his balls, and I trace them with my tongue as I jack him.

“Holy fuck, your tongue is incredible.”

His words spur me on as I explore, something I haven’t had a chance to do yet. I love how he holds his breath when I drop kisses along the crease of his groin, and the way he jacks his cock into my palm when I run my tongue along the skin beneath his balls. His hand trembles when he fists my messy bun and pulls my mouth from him with a pop. “Suck my cock, honey, or let me fuck you, but do it before I make a mess all over my stomach.”

A shiver racks my entire body at the heated look in his eye. I comply, scooting forward between his bent knees to fill my mouth. My tongue swirls around the head, and I take him all the way to the back of my throat. My gag reflex trips, tightening my muscles around him.

“You are done,” he moans. Hands clamped beneath my armpits, he hauls me up his torso, sliding my body over every hard inch. I want to kiss him, but he has other plans, shifting from beneath me so I’m on my belly in the pillows. He rolls on top, then does a disappearing act of his own.

He removes my jeans in record time, much faster than it took me to remove his, and then his hands caress me. “Scoot your knees under you.”

Even though