“I’ve noticed,” she said primly, and then ruined it with a breathy, “please.”
He chuckled as he set her down gently and peeled her shirt off in one long, worshipful motion. She stood in the bright band of the hallway window, unselfconscious in a way she hadn’t been in years. The way he looked at her helped—no hunger without reverence, no taking without offering. His gaze said,you are safe, you are wanted, this is ours.
She reached for his waistband. “Now you,” she said, like a cheerful tyrant, and tugged him out of his t-shirt and sweatpants. The sight of all that rangy muscle, that smooth scar under his ribs she’d kissed a dozen times, sent another fizz through her. “Hello, Sailor.”
“Good morning, Taylor.” He dipped his head, mouth at her collarbone. “Reminder that I’m terrible at patience around you.”
“Lucky me.”
He eased her shorts down, encouraging her to step out. She did, laughing when her foot got caught and he steadied her with gentle hands. She leaned into the wall while he went to his knees.
“Oh,” she said, brightly, a totally giddy, “we’re doing this first?”
He tipped his head back, eyes gone playful and hot. “Always happy to put my mouth where my promises are.”
“Smooth,” she said as she rolled her eyes. But her breath hitched when he kissed the inside of her knee, then higher. There was nothing shy or apologetic in her this time—no one was home, no one needed her in the next room, nothing could reach this narrow hallway but sunshine and a pleased dog sleeping in the other room on Kevin’s bed. She threaded her fingers into his hair and let herself feel everything.
He was unhurried today, which should have been illegal. Slow kisses up her inner thigh that stalled right at where her hip met her torso, his hands anchoring her, his breath teasing where she was already slick for him. He looked up once, checking—always checking—and whatever he saw in her face made himsmile at the corner of his mouth in that satisfied way that felt like a secret code only she knew.
Then he put his mouth on her and the world narrowed to a bright, electric line of pleasure.
“Shane,” she said, astonished and greedy in the same heartbeat. Her head bumped the wall and she didn’t care. He knew her body now, knew how she chased her orgasm and then wanted it to stall so it would feel more intense when it finally crashed over her. He gave her exactly that—firm and sweet, then lighter, then a slow pressure that unwound her spine. He slid a finger inside her and she swore softly because he took that as permission to press his palm against her clit until the world went bright white around the edges.
She laughed once—pure joy, unfiltered, because happy sex was so much better than anything she remembered. He looked up at the sound, still moving his mouth, eyes laughing with her like,yeah, right?and then she couldn’t laugh because he crooked his finger and she broke open with a gasp.
He held her through her orgasm, steady and greedy for every last tremor, then pressed one last maddening kiss on her folds that made her shiver and swat at his shoulder. “Mean,” she accused breathlessly.
“Precise,” he countered as he ran his tongue up her body in one long line to her lips where he kissed her slowly, letting her taste herself on his mouth. “And thorough.”
Her legs wobbled. “Bed,” she said again, because sprawling had been promised and she would not be denied.
They made it to the bedroom with only minor detours—the first because she had to push him onto the couch and climb onto him like a woman who knew exactly what she wanted (she did), and the second because Pete stuck his nose around the door and then, with impeccable timing, turned and wandered away as ifto say,I’m going to check the perimeter, you two continue with your important business, you weirdos.
Both naked on the bed, she straddled Shane’s hips and braced her hands on his chest. The sheer look of him—hands behind his head, biceps carving shadows, chest rising and falling under her palms—did wicked things to her. She leaned forward and kissed a scar under his ribs, then more kisses lower, delighted when his breath quickened.
“You don’t have to do—” he began, the gentleman even now.
“Iwantto,” she said, and took his hard cock into her mouth.
“Oh fuck,” he said in that hoarse whisper that made her feel like a magician. She set an easy rhythm, playful, teasing, loving the way he watched her like the sun had just come up twice. His hand slid into her hair—not to guide or grip—just to touch. When she hollowed her cheeks and wrapped her fist at the base of his cock, his hips twitched and he laughed helplessly. “You are,” he managed, “a menace.”
“Thank you,” she said primly again, then did something with her tongue she’d learned he liked—a nice, slow swirl. He groaned and bucked.
She stopped before he got too close because she was not wasting this incredible hard-on, thank you very much, and crawled up his body to kiss him. His hands came to her hips, careful, reverent. He looked up at her, always careful to make sure she was ready.
She answered by taking his cock in her hand and guiding him. The first slow slide made both of them gasp. She sank down until they fit, deep and perfect, her hands flattening on his chest for balance and because she loved feeling his heart kick under her palms.
“Hey,” he said softly, wonder-smile pulling at his mouth. “You with me?”
“Completely.” She rocked once and watched his eyes go heavy. “I like this view.”
“Likewise,” he said, sounding wrecked in the best way. He traced up her sides, over her ribs, thumbs skimming the bottom curve of her breasts, sending tingling shivers through her entire body. “Go how you want, Sweetness.”
So she did. She set a pace that matched the morning—sun shining over the ridge, soft breeze in the willows, coffee steam curling in the air, warm, sweet syrup. When she leaned forward he angled up to meet her. When she rolled her hips he swore against her throat. When she took his hands and pinned them to the mattress, playful and bossy, he laughed into her mouth and let her, his own body loose with trust.
She found the perfect angle and rode hard, chasing her orgasm, making small sounds that would have embarrassed her before. Not now. Not with this man who looked at her like her joy was his life’s work. He tipped one hand free and slid it between them, fingers finding her clit like he’d studied a map of her body. The double sensation—his cock inside, his fingers outside—made her orgasm hit so fast she had to moan through it, forehead dropping to his, the two of them holding still while the world tilted for them both.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, anchored and adoring. “Take another one.”
