“I’d like to do some philanthropic work and travel. Take pictures around the world. I figure one of those trips could include climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. We could check that off your bucket list. But I’d make Bayside home—with you.
“I don’t have it all planned out yet, and for once, I’m okay with that. I’m going to set up that website you’ve been on meabout. I want to build my portfolio and take some classes to sharpen my skills. Maybe I’ll work on a few projects Rayne has in mind.”
“I’m loving the sound of all of that,” I say, fighting back the goofy grin threatening to burst out of me.
“I noticed there’s a space to rent on the boardwalk. I might open an art studio, hire a couple of teachers, offer classes for kids and adults, host art-and-wine nights.” She shrugs. “Just brainstorming.”
“That brilliant mind’s been working hard.”
Last night, after we made love, she told me everything—about the pseudo-dinner, standing up to her parents and Richard, fighting for Sophia and the other women—all of it. She’s stopped trying to please everyone else, and I couldn’t be prouder.
“What about your art café?” I ask.
“There’s already an excellent one on the boardwalk.” Her smile is playful. “I was thinking I might help out the sexy owner sometimes, just to get my fix.”
“You’re welcome anytime. But don’t give up on that dream if it’s what you want.”
“I’m not giving up anything; I’m redefining. Right now, I just want to focus on photography. Andyou.”
“I require a lot of focus. I’m very needy.”
“Well, good thing I have some time on my hands.” She rubs a hand down my abdomen.
Done with talking, I move to pull my arm from under her head, ready to kiss her the way I want to, but a sharp jolt of pins and needles stops me. “Damn.”
“What?” she asks, concerned. “Your arm?”
“Yeah. It’s nothing. Just fell asleep.”
“Poor baby.” She massages my bicep in kneading circles, her hands soft and warm, coaxing the feeling back. And not just in my arm.
Her eyes flick to the tented sheet. “Looks like your arm’s the only part of you that’s asleep.”
“Like I said—needy.” I pull her on top of me, the sheet falling away.
“Don’t you have to get to the café?”
“After,” I murmur, taking in her full, creamy breasts, softly flared hips, and the sweet V between her thighs. “You look good up there, Blue. Save a coffee, ride a barista.”
“You didnotjust say that.”
“I did.” Tucking another pillow beneath my head, I prop myself up so I don’t miss a thing.
Lexie straddles my thighs, cupping her breasts and plucking her already pert nipples. Then she slides one hand down her stomach, walking two fingers to her belly button, and lower. Since she hasn’t stopped with the nipple play, my gaze is bobbing up and down along with my cock, which is getting harder by the second.
I move my hand to my shaft and jack myself in time with the rhythm of her fingers until I’m dangerously close. The tendons in my neck tighten, and pressure collects in my groin.
“Baby, unless you want me to come this way . . .”
“As much as that turns me on,” she says, her husky voice trailing into a moan. “I’d rather have you inside me.” She positions herself, lifting her hips to slide down on me like a tight, wet fist. Her tousled hair falls on either side of her face as she leans forward, bracing her hands on my chest. She kisses me with all pent-up passion, exploring my mouth with her tongue.
I’m throbbing inside her when she rears back and winds her hips.
“Like this?” she pants, reminding me that this is new to her. She’s so damn lusty I sometimes forget she lacks experience.
“Just like that. I’m in so deep. I can feel every wet inch of you.”
“Fast or slow?”
