A rush of air from his laugh streams over me. He pulls out of my body, dragging his nose up through my center, placing a kiss at the top of me, drawing an involuntary buck of my hips.
"I'll be right back," he says, standing up from the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. His ass is a sight, solid and muscled like the rest of him.
"You don't have any other tattoos," I say when he returns, climbing back onto the bed and splitting my legs so he can fit between them.
My bent knees bracket him as he opens a condom, sliding it over his length. Rising up on his knees, he winds his hands around my thighs and tugs me closer to him. "I only mark myself with things that own my heart. The SEALs." He directs himselfto me, pressing in. He stops there, looks down at me. I see it in his gaze, this warmth. A softness. "And a woman named Daisy."
Oh, my heart.
He notches another inch, going slow. Then one more. Torturing us both. I pop up on my elbows, extending my touch to his ribs. To his scars. Gently I trace them. Wanting him to know it's all ok. He looks down at my touch, then back to me. He never stops his rhythm, but I see what it does to him. To his heart.
When he's all the way inside, he comes down over me. My legs wrap around his lower back. He moves in unhurried, luxurious thrusts.
He sighs deeply, a sound of relief and contentment. Eyes locked on mine, he says, "There's no part of me that doesn't love you, Daisy St. James."
My hands roam his back, finding his neck, fingers weaving into his hair. I press my lips to his, letting them hover against his, and say the truest words I've spoken in a very long time. "I love you, Penn. I always have."
The very last thing I want to do right now is cry. So I take the heat burning the backs of my eyes, the despair tearing at my heart, and place it inside a box deep inside, to be dealt with another day.
I've never seen life as being cruel, the way others do. But what other justification is there for finding true love one week before I'm supposed to marry another man?
Penn keeps a steady, leisurely rhythm. Is he drawing it out, savoring the connection between our bodies? I am.
I kiss him everywhere I can reach. Touch every inch of skin I can, my fingertips committing him to memory.
Pleasure builds, gathering steam, and my breathing becomes labored. "I...I..."
"Me too, Sunshine," he whispers.
"Cover my mouth," I tell him. I want to be loud. I want all control gone, handed over to Penn. I have so little to give him, but there's this, though it's not nearly enough.
Penn increases his pace, and when my whimpers grow louder, he covers my mouth with his left hand. My hand grips the tattoos. Eyes on mine, fingers over my lips, the center of our bodies slice the air, jerking together in the rawest way. So intimate. Beautiful, even.
Eyes screwed shut, he opens his mouth, his roar soundless. But I feel him. Heaving, twitching, spilling.
Penn drapes over me, his weight welcome. Lightly I scratch my nails over his back.
"Let's run away together," I say to the ceiling.
"If only that would solve all our problems," he answers, cheek pressed against my breast.
We lie like that for a while, catching our breath. Finally, he pulls out of me, pressing a kiss to the inside of my knee as he backs up on the bed.
"I'll be right back," he says, returning a minute later. He has disposed of the condom, and brought a warm washcloth. "I didn't make a mess of you, but I thought you might appreciate it."
"It sounds amazing, actually." I reach a hand out for the cloth, but he shakes his head, leaning one knee on the bed. "May I?"
"Um, sure." Am I really going to feel shy about this, given where his face was pressed only a handful of minutes ago?
Penn leans forward, brushing a kiss over my forehead, and his hand goes between my legs. The warmth of the washcloth is welcome, a slight ache already beginning. My muscles down there aren't accustomed to being used this way.
It's probably only a few seconds he spends cleaning me, but it takes my heart that is already his, and places a sealant over it. Penn is a good man. Someone who deserves true love.
Can I give that to him? Is there a way out of the terrible mess I've created for myself?
Penn walks to the entrance to the bathroom, tossing the wet cloth across the room, where it lands with athwapin the bathtub.
He returns, pulling back the covers, asking with his eyes for me to slide in beside him. I shimmy in, pressing my body into him. And then he says the very last thing I expected.
