Authors: Jessi Gage
Sweet Jesus. What a wonderful way to wake up. Elation zinged through him, along with the unreal pleasure of her sucking him.
He couldn’t have been asleep long, but the excitement of being with her again brought him fully awake with the giddiness of a kid on Christmas morning. His heart felt lighter than it had all day–hell, lighter than it had in a lot of years.
His fingers found her bobbing head and tunneled into her soft hair. Her scalp was warm. Her mouth surrounded him with silky wet heat. Oh, God, her tongue pressing just there…fuck.
He wanted to greet her, but couldn’t form words past the groans sawing from his throat. He should stop her–they needed to talk–but the part of his brain lost to this pleasure overrode the gentlemanly part. Her name tumbled from his lips as she brought him closer and closer and closer to the edge.
“Look out,” he said through gritted teeth. His release hit him hard. Light exploded behind his eyelids as intense pleasure rocked him from head to toe. His hips bucked up, and his knees jerked. He worried he might hurt her, but she held on, her lips clamped around him. She took what no other woman ever had, and she did it greedily, like she couldn’t get enough of him.
An instant later, she kissed his mouth, not giving him a chance to refuse her, not that he would have. She delved inside with her tongue as her body covered his. His taste and hers combined in a heady mix.
He moved his hands all over her, caressing, squeezing, pulling her closer. They kissed for a while, hard at first, then softer as his breathing slowed.
“So, I guess you’re not mad at me,” he said as her kisses wandered to his cheek, then his ear–oh man, the heat of her agile tongue around his earlobe had him getting hard again. How was that even possible?
He felt her smile against his temple. “I think you’ve got enough anger bottled up in here for the both of us.” She circled her palm over the center of his chest.
True. He carried around enough anger for a small town, and it had been getting him in trouble lately.
“How do you feel, sweetheart?” He clicked on the lamp.
She looked beautiful, as always. No trace of sickness marred her complexion. In fact, the insecure slant to her brows had been replaced by heavy-lidded satisfaction. She looked more sexually confident, like she’d taken a risk and was pleased with the results. He liked the look on her.
“Fine,” she said as she snuggled into his side without a trace of insecurity. “But I’ll probably pass on any follow-up feasts you had in mind for tonight.”
He rolled to put her beneath him. Her clothed breasts compressed beneath his weight. Heaven. He didn’t deserve another chance with this amazing woman, but he’d be damned if he’d screw it up again.
“The only feasting I had in mind for tonight was on humble pie. I owe you an apology.”
“Derek.”
“No. Let me do this.” He traced the delicate strength of her cheekbones, the arches of her auburn eyebrows, her slender throat, which moved with a swallow as she closed her eyes to enjoy his touch. “I was trying so hard to learn something about you, I didn’t consider your safety. I made you sick. Can you forgive me?”
“It wasn’t your fault. I wanted to eat. It was delicious. I felt normal for a change. I just wish I hadn’t destroyed your bathroom.” She blushed. “Or that I could have cleaned it up for you.”
He shook his head. “You’re incredible. You know that?”
She gave him questioning eyes.
“I’ve never met anyone sweeter than you. I make you sick and you’re worried about my bathroom floor.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “Cleaning it up was awful, but only because I was hurting so bad for you. I couldn’t even hold you while you were going through that. And then what I said–it came out all wrong.”
“I know.” She rubbed their noses together in a trusting move that turned his insides gooey with happiness.
Layers of rage melted away, leaving him raw and exposed. With anyone else, he would have insulated himself against the vulnerability with hurtful words, but not with DG. He wouldn’t hurt her. Never again. He didn’t think he could survive it.
“You were hurting for me,” she said. “I knew that. I only wish I could have told you so.”
The melon scent of her hair surrounded him like a fantasy, and her hands rubbed up and down his back under his t-shirt, sending tingles racing along his spine. Just like that, she’d forgiven him–no judgment, no arguments, just sweet acceptance.
He had her forgiveness. Now he wanted her complete surrender. If he let another night go by without making love to her, he’d live to regret it.
No more regrets with DG.
He began unbuttoning her shirt.
She nipped his earlobe like she wanted him to keep going. “You didn’t sleep this afternoon like you said you would, did you?”
“How did you know?” he asked, not pausing in his task. When he finished, he spread her shirt and rubbed his hands up and down her trim torso, loving the cool satin of her skin.
“You look awful.”
He looked up to find her eyes sparkling with humor.
“Oh, good. All the women in my life are in agreement. I look like crap. It’s official.”
She propped herself up on her elbows. “You saw Haley, today? How did it go? Are you two okay?”
His stomach tightened with the memory of Haley’s face pinched in pain. His poor little girl. “We’re okay. She forgave me. She broke her arm today. I spent a few hours with her at the hospital.”
She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. Will she be alright?”
He nodded. “Kids heal fast. She’s a trooper. Made me real proud today.”
DG beamed. “She seems like a great kid.”
“The best.”
If only he could be a better dad to her. He’d started to repeat the mistakes his father had made with him and his brothers. But he wasn’t interested in dwelling on his faults right now. Right now all he wanted was to make DG feel as good as she’d made him feel. Then make her feel that good again. And again.
Chapter 12
Derek’s whole face softened when he talked about his daughter. His love for her was as obvious as his guilt. He’d told her Haley had forgiven him, but he clearly hadn’t forgiven himself. DG didn’t understand how that worked, how someone could continue to wallow in guilt even after they’d been forgiven. A person would have to hate himself more than he loved the person he’d wronged.
She cupped his cheek. “You’re still upset with yourself, aren’t you?”
He kissed her palm then shook his head slowly. “Honestly, the only thing I’m feeling right now is lucky to be with you. Lie back, sweetheart. I’m going to give you a good memory to take with you when you have to leave this morning.”
The thought of leaving him hit her hard in the chest. She didn’t know if her heart could take another long separation from him. Their eyes locked, and she saw the words had the same effect on him. His mouth set in a grim line.
“What’s happening to us?” she asked.
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t know. But I’m done wasting time. Aren’t you?”
She nodded solemnly and arched her back to let him unhook her bra. As she sank back into the pillows, he stroked his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, drawing the straps down and sending warm tingles racing over her skin. The moment he’d freed her breasts, his hands covered them, caressed and weighed them. His face was reverent, his gaze dark with determination.
He lowered his mouth to hers. When their lips touched, she moaned, wanting more than the sweet, slow kiss. He paid her reverence. She burned to be debauched.
He patiently worked his way down to her breasts, ignoring her hands shoving at the top of his head, urging him to move on to needier places. When she growled her impatience, he had the gall to grin and resume his leisurely explorations. He massaged her with strong fingers, nipped around her areolas with questing lips, and finally–finally!–took one nipple deep into his mouth, where he teased it with his flicking tongue before torturing her with gentle sucking.
Her reaction was not gentle. Heat flooded her sex. She cried out, having never felt anything this decadent before. Had anyone felt anything this decadent before? If she’d had her way, she would have missed this. Properly schooled, she lay back and reveled in Derek’s worship, happy to let him fill her body with delicious sensation.
An empty ache built between her legs, and she needed him to ease it. “Please,” she said.
“Shhh. Let me.”
He stroked his hands all over her, up and down her torso, over her hips, around to her back, languid strokes from her shoulder blades to her buttocks. He followed his touch with kisses until every inch of her knew what it meant to be worshipped.
The only sounds were the scrape of his callused hands over her skin, the rasp of clothing as he divested her of each piece one at a time, her gasps and moans, and his occasional hum of approval. The sensual symphony drove her wild.
“Please,” she begged again, lost to the need to be filled, heart, body and soul by Derek.
He responded with a naughty grin, spread her legs, and dipped his face to give a long, slow lap directly over her most intimate place.
Electric pleasure flooded her. “Yes,” she cried. “More!”
He gave her more. Her serious, angry man gave her the most tender gift imaginable, coaxing her higher and higher and anchoring her to the bed with his strong hands as she came crashing down into a liquid pool of ecstasy.
He sat up between her legs, smug as the cat who knocked over the milk jug. She was so relaxed, she couldn’t move a muscle, didn’t want to move a muscle. She just lay there, sprawled and naked and utterly transfixed while he dragged his t-shirt over his head.
She greedily devoured the sight of his tan skin, stretched over hard working muscle. His jeans were already open from earlier, and his penis jutted proud and thick from the V of his zipper. A bead of moisture at the tip made her lick her lips with the memory of his salty taste. But the best sight of all was the look in his eyes, heavy with desire for her and tender with something she dared to hope might be love.
Her movements clumsy, she helped him peel his jeans down his lean hips as he covered her body with his. She kneaded his firm glutes and skimmed her fingers up and down the warm skin of his back. She wanted to worship him as he’d worshipped her, but the intensity in his eyes spoke volumes.
I will have you now,
that look said.
Right fucking now.
No argument from her.
His mouth found hers and their tongues joined. With one hand, he guided himself to her sex, rubbing her lips, spreading her moisture. Then he pushed inside, stretching her with unapologetic intent, making them one.
His firm stroke brought him deeply, completely into her until she didn’t care where she left off and he began. The amazing fullness felt so secure she wondered if the fog would lose its purchase on her. They froze like that and looked into each other’s eyes.
Derek exhaled a rough curse.
Thank God he’d turned the bedside lamp on earlier. She would remember the look on his face for the rest of her life…or death. Solemn passion bled from his every pore. Love shone in his brown eyes. Parting from him at dawn would break her.
“You feel so good,” he said. Then he moved inside her.
Her heart soared as she locked her arms around him, her fingers clinging to his back. He held on just as tightly as they rocked together. All her dread of the fog and fear of being dead vanished, leaving only rightness.
Pleasure zoomed up on her more quickly than she would have liked. Her body was a parched desert and Derek’s lovemaking brought floodwaters rushing up from below to quench and nourish. She wanted it to go on forever, but the drenching fulfillment wouldn’t be denied.
He knew. “Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered over her ear. “Let’s go there together.”
His words brought her slamming over the peak. She shuddered and cried out in mixed pleasure and determination not to let the fog steal her away again. She clenched where they were joined, her entire body holding fast to the man she loved.
His breath caught and he groaned as he thrust home one more time and stayed there, pressed to her womb and bathing her with his release. His arms tightened around her until she couldn’t conceive of ever being alone again.