In the aftermath, she slipped her leg between mine and put her head on my chest. I could feel her eyelashes against my skin every time she blinked. It was the tiniest flutter—the softest sensation—but it soothed the hot, brimming ache her absence had left. A wave of completeness washed over me as slowly, gradually, she closed her eyes and fell asleep in my arms.
The light from outside slipped through the blinds and made patterns on the wall. The night was different, so different from the farm. The sound of a lone, passing car, the muted conversations of people walking by, leaves slapping on the windowpane. My toes were hanging off her tiny bed. My head was resting on a ruffled, floral-print pillow. Bobby pins lay scattered on the floor. Perfume and lotion and little jars sat on the dresser. I smiled and drew Rodel closer. She nuzzled into me with a sigh of pleasure.
I was miles from home, but I felt exactly like I belonged.
IWOKE UPearly the next morning. For a few long, languid moments, I lay in bed enjoying the warmth of the woman sleeping beside me. My eyes roved over her brow, the small hairs that blended into her hairline, the pink, soft cushion of her lips. I placed the tip of my little finger in the groove between her nose and upper lip. Thephiltrum. I had looked it up. It was mine. It fit me perfectly. Just like the rest of her. Every part of me was made to fit every part of her.
My desire stirred, hot and heavy, under the covers. I wanted her with a craving that knew no depth. She was beautiful and devastating. Just like love should be. I could spend forever in the corners of her mind and never get bored. I could kiss her lips every morning and still not learn all the flavors of her soul. I was gone for this girl—so far gone that it terrified me.
I pulled the comforter over her and slipped out of bed, smiling as she snuggled deeper. We had woken up and gone at it again. And then again. I had exhausted her. In the best possible way.
Take that, I said to the naughty paperback lying on the floor. Then I paused and flipped through it.Hmm. Maybe we can do this tonight. No. This. This is even hotter. Holy fuck.
When Rodel came downstairs, I was on the couch, feet propped up, eyeballs deep in a romance novel.
“Really?” She crawled on top of me and kissed me. “I don’t know which I find sexier. You reading this book or the morning stubble on your face.” Her fingers traced my jawline. “I’m still not used to seeing you without the beard.”
“Does it feel different when I do this?” I pulled her in and reclaimed her lips.
“Wait!” She rescued the book getting crushed between us. “Oh. My. God. Did you bend the corners of my book?” She sat back on her heels and flipped through it.
“Just the parts I think we should re-enact.”
“Jack.” She shook her head in woe. “You never,everfold a corner over in a book.”
“You’re so hot when you go all book-nerd on me.” Her nightshirt was riding high on her thighs, her lips were pouty, and she was cradling the book as if it were a hurt child. “Do you know—” I flipped her over so she was on all fours, her nose lodged in the folds of the novel “—I have sex with you a lot. In my head. Just like this.” I squeezed her sweet ass and rubbed my throbbing shaft over her panties. “Read to me, Rodel. Read to me while I ride you.” I pushed the fabric of her panties aside and slipped my finger inside of her. She let out a muffled groan.
“Are you burying your face in that book? Rodel.” I tsked. “You never,evermanhandle a book like that. This sexy ass, yes.” I slapped her full, round cheek. “But the book . . .” I grabbed her hair and tugged so she was looking down at the pages before her. “Read it, Rodel. Unless you want me to stop?” I slid another finger inside her and nipped the back of her neck.
Her voice quivered as she started reading the passages aloud. She kept losing track. I kept reminding her. A little yank, a little spank, to keep her head in the game. Her body squirmed against mine, engulfing my senses, engorging my passion, until the air was thick with hot, heated need.
She opened her mouth to say something, but as I thrust into her, the book fell away and the only word that escaped her was: “Unghhh.” It was a throaty, unintelligible whisper that was mind-blowingly hotter than all the erotic words I’d made her read.
SUNDAY BRUNCH WITHRodel, in her kitchen—one that I’d tried to envision many times over the long, lonely months without her. Her kitchen. Her bathroom. What she came home to. What kind of plates she used. What she saw outside her window. Piece by piece, my mind gathered all the little, missing bits like a scavenger on a treasure hunt.
We sat around the weathered island that doubled as her dining table. The paint had rubbed off around its corners and edges. Like everything else, it looked homey and lived-in. The overhead beams, the angled ceilings, the worn patina of the walls—they all took on a soft, bright hue as sunshine streamed in through the windows.
Rodel poured herself a cup of coffee and stirred two heaping teaspoons of sugar into it. She padded over to the refrigerator, stuck her head inside, and began moving things around.
God, did she have any idea what she looked like, bent over like that?
“No Coca-Cola.” She straightened and turned around. “Orange juice?”
I grinned. A part of me wanted to tell her to keep looking. “Orange juice is fine.” It made me ridiculously happy that she remembered what I liked to drink in the morning.
She took a sip of her coffee and waltzed over to the cabinet to get me a glass. She was pouring the juice when I took the carton from her and set it on the counter. I drew her to me so we were eye to eye, her standing between my legs, as I sat on the stool.
“Good morning, Miss Emerson.” I kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat. I couldn’t get enough of her. I had lived far too many days and nights without the feel of her.
“It’s past noon now.” She laughed. “Good afternoon, Mr. Warden.”
Her warm, soft lips were intoxicating, but when she swirled her tongue inside, exploring the recesses of my mouth, desire stirred between my legs. But only for a moment, because something else hit me. I reared my head back and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do that again. Kiss me.”
“Yes, sir.” She grinned and reclaimed my lips, her arms looping around my neck as she kissed me, slow and deep.
