“I’ve gotten a little…curvier since high school.”
“Thank you, God. Curvy is good.” He bent and landed a kiss on her breastbone. “Curvy is so damn hot.” His next kiss landed on her soft, rounded belly. If she’d let him, he’d fall asleep with his head on her belly.
He pulled back and pushed the flannel off her shoulders, and April let it fall away, let Shane toss it on the floor. Her bra quickly followed it, then Shane was gazing at the most beautiful breasts, letting the sigh of her feed his hunger. April let herself be vulnerable.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"For what?"
"For trusting me. For letting me in." Shane's hands skimmed down her sides, gentle despite the desperate need clawing at him. "For giving me everything you've been carrying. I promise I'll take care of it. Take care of you."
April pulled him down to her, wrapped herself around him again like she'd never let go.
"I know you will," she breathed. "Now love me, Shane. Please."
And Shane did. He ran his fingers over her nipples, softly, slowly, to build the fire inside her as hot as it would go.
“Yes,” she purred as she arched into his hands, wanting more.
The single word spoken so boldly hit him like a shot of pure oxygen. He stopped moving for a second because he didn’t trust his hands not to rush. The thunder had faded to a distant grumble; rain threaded the windows in soft, twisty lines, a steady patter on Shane’s roof. The embers shifted and crackled, sending up sparks.
“That’s my sweetness,” he said, voice low. He smoothed his thumbs over her nipples again, then moved up to her cheekbones and stroked them, the way he’d done on the porch the night before. He angled his head and kissed her gently, banking his heat along with hers. His cock was achingly hard, straining against his boxer briefs and cargos, and he was in danger of coming before he’d even taken it out of his pants.
April’s fingers curled into his waistband and tugged. An impatient sound caught in the back of her throat.
He eased back only far enough to look her over. He loved the way the golden light washed across her skin, how it turned her eyes molten. “You ready?”
“Oh yes.” She glanced toward the bedroom door, voice dipping. “Should we lock it?”
“Pete’s on duty. If Kevin wakes, we’ll have plenty of warning.”
Her smile went warm and wicked at the edges. “So we have a sentry and rain for cover.”
“And time.”
“Then lose the pants, Shane.”
He started to laugh and covered his mouth. Just what he needed to do—wake Kevin with loud laughter. That sent April into a fit of giggles. She bit down on her arm, trying not to laugh. When they’d both stopped, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. He set the pace, let her catch it and change it at will. Her mouth was delicious, that old sweetness of hers he remembered so well coming through—then she gave him a teasing swipe of her tongue that made him groan into her and lose a notch of control.
“God, sweetness,” he breathed against her lips. “I love it when you’re feisty.”
She nipped him, then soothed the nip with her tongue, making him groan and press his cock against her. She already knew every button he had and it looked like she intended to press each one in turn.
Then she pulled back again. “It’s been a while,” she admitted, embarrassment and humor in her eyes. “Like… ages.”
“Same.” The truth cost him nothing with her. “Been a damn minute.” He slid one hand into her hair, the other down to the small of her back where he’d been touching her all evening and pretending it was nothing. “We’ll take it slow.”
Her gaze flicked over his face, as her impish smile returned. “We don’t have to take itthatslow.”
He laughed—helpless—and kissed her again because he couldn’t resist. Then he swept her up into his arms and eased her onto the pillows. He came down over her, propped himself on his forearms so he wasn’t giving her all his weight, and lost himself for a while: the rhythm of her mouth, the little catch she made when he angled his hips just so, the way her knees parted to cradle his sides. The world narrowed to the warm bedside lamp glow and the hush of rain and her soft skin under his palms.
When he finally trailed his lips down her jaw and along the notch of her throat, April tipped her head to give him the line of it like an offering. Her pulse fluttered under his mouth. He took his time there, open-mouthed kisses that tasted like salt and rain, gave her his tongue and teeth when she asked for more with a breathy “yes, please.” He slid a hand along her ribcage—her skin warm and silken and his now—and felt her breath stutter.
“Still good?” he murmured, checking because he would never stop checking.
“Better than good,” she said, voice roughened. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t. He palmed the curve of her breast, thumb circling until she arched. Her nipple tightened against his touch, and he felt his control fray. He bent, mouth replacing his hand, and the sound she made—half surprise, half gratitude—went straight through him. He traced the edge of her with his tongue, then closed gently around her and sucked, shallow at first, then deeper when her fingers grabbed a fistful of his hair. He gave her the same patience he’d use coaxing a terrified hiker off a ledge: steady pressure, clear intention, all the time in the world. She responded with a roll of her hips that had him biting back a curse into her skin.
