Twelve
Chase
The next morning, I wake up with her in my arms. She slept the entire night, her body next to mine. I didn't, I've spent most of the night looking at her, watching over as she relaxed next to me. When she'd finally given up being as stiff as a board, I let sleep wash over me.
"Morning," her soft voice says from beside me.
"Morning," I answer her. My voice is deeper than normal, and I know it's from the emotional upheaval of last night.
She hooks her leg around my waist, and I groan when the soft skin of her calf accidentally touches the front of my boxer-briefs. "Sorry," her eyes meet mine, and the heat between us is this side of burning. Lightly, she lifts the weight off.
I reach forward, grabbing it so that she can't.
I inhale deeply, before closing my eyes. "Don't be sorry. I am, it's been a long time since someone else besides me touched my body."
She buries her face in the side of my throat. "Don't you be sorry either, it's hot knowing that you want me."
God, I really fucking do. My chest is pumping as I try to keep my hands to myself. When one of her palms rests on my stomach, and the other on my chest, I turn to face her. "I'm hanging on by a thread her, Paisley."
"That's what I want," she admits softly. "There was never any passion between me and Stanley. We did missionary and every once in a while I'd get on top, but there was so much more I wanted. I didn't know how to ask for it, but I have a feeling I wouldn't have to ask with you."
"No," I growl, gripping my hands into fists. "No you wouldn't have to ask for anything. I'd give everything to you. But only if you tell me it's okay."
I don't tell her how much I need this, how much I want to feel like a part of a couple again. How until she showed up out here, I didn't realize how lonely I was. How much I wanted to have someone out here with me. How much I needed that person to be her.
"It's okay," she whispers, her breath warm against my neck. "More than okay. I want this, Chase. I want to feel desirable again. Like I'm irresistible to someone, like you're not being with me because you have to be."
The vulnerability in her voice breaks something open in my chest. I pull back just enough to look at her, really look at her. Her hair is messy from sleep, her eyes are still a little red from crying last night, but she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. The thought makes me stutter slightly, because I used to always think my wife was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, but I have to be honest.
"You are irresistible," I tell her, my voice rough. "You've been driving me crazy since the moment I brought you here. Every time you laugh, every time you bite your fucking lip when you're concentrating, every time you walk around in those leggings that cup your ass. I've been losing my mind trying to keep my hands to myself."
Her eyes widen, and I can see the effect my words have on her. The way her breathing picks up, the way her pupils dilate.
"I need you to know something though," I continue, suddenly feeling exposed. "I truly haven't been with anyone since my wife died. It's been years, and I'm not sure how long I'm going to last. I don't want to disappoint you."
The concern must show on my face because she reaches up and cups my jaw, her thumb stroking along my cheekbone.
"You couldn't disappoint me," she says, her eyes dipping to my mouth. "Not after what you did for me last night. Not after how you've treated me since I got here. You're already miles ahead of what I'm used to."
Something about those words, about knowing that bastard never made her feel wanted, makes every protective instinct I have roar to life. I'm going to show her exactly how a man should treat a woman. How she should be worshipped and cherished and absolutely consumed.
"Come here," I murmur, rolling onto my back and pulling her on top of me in one smooth motion.
She gasps, her hands landing on my chest to steady herself. Her legs straddle my hips, and I can feel the heat of her even through the layers of fabric between us. My hands find her waist, spanning the curves there.
"Chase," she breathes, and the way she says my name lights me on fire.
I slide my hands up her sides, taking her tank top with them. She lifts her arms without hesitation, letting me pull it over her head and toss it to the side. She's not wearing a bra, and the sight of her bare skin in the morning light streaming through the window makes my mouth go water.
"You're stunning," I tell her, meaning every word. My hands map the planes of her stomach, the curve of her ribs, and she shivers under my touch as they move up. My palms cup her breasts.
"My body changed after I got pregnant…" she starts, and I can see the insecurity creeping in. The way her arms start to move like she wants to cover herself.
"Don't," I say firmly, catching her wrists gently, pulling her arms away. "Don't hide from me. You're perfect exactly as you are."
I guide her hands back to my chest, then let mine roam freely over her body. When I cup her breasts, she lets out a soft moan that goes straight through me. I sit up, wrapping one arm around her waist to keep her steady, and lower my mouth to her nipple. Closing my lips around the turgid tip, I suck, hollowing out my cheeks before I brush my tongue against the pebbled skin.
The taste of her is intoxicating. I explore every inch I can reach, paying attention to what makes her gasp, what makes her dig her nails into my shoulders, what makes her rock her hips against mine. She's so responsive, so willing to let me see what she likes, and it's the sexy as hell.
