After a second, his eyes clear slightly, and he does as I say, shifting until he’s the one on his back. He props himself up on his forearms so he can see me fully, his gaze raking me over as I climb on top of him. When I spread my legs, centering myself above his erection, his pupils expand, darkening in a way that dampens my palms. My pulse skitters before I slowly lower myself down.
My eyes fall shut as I fill myself with him, inch by inch.
A deep, guttural sound rumbles through Joshua’s throat.
His big, warm hands clasp around my thighs, and I ride him. Slow and steady. When I manage to open my eyes again, he’s watching my expression, and the sight of him like this takes my breath away. He’s a giant underneath me, sculpted muscles contracting and flexing with each roll of my hips.
My gentle beast.
Taking one of his hands, I bring it to my chest. Then I put my right hand on his chest. His heartbeat hammers under my palm, racing with my own. With our hearts in the other’s hands, my breath hitches, and I ride him faster. Giving everything I can. Taking everything I need.
He swallows, his jaw flexing, as he gets closer to the edge. Closer to me.
We’re both panting, my hair sticking to my neck.
“What are you doing to me, Blue?” he croaks.
His free hand travels up to my hair before curling around the nape of my neck. Slowly, he pulls my face to his. Our noses brush, his hot breath fanning over my mouth in hard pants.
Faster. Harder. Pressure builds in my core, rising and tightening, threatening to combust. The air restricts in my throat.
“This,” I breathe, “is making love. And you are really”—my eyes flutter shut—“reallygood at it.”
A long shudder runs through him before he takes my mouth with his, kissing me like I’m his oxygen, and we both come hard. Harder than we ever have.
Blue
“So ... they’re notactuallyenchiladas.” Kimmie pokes the vegan recipe with her fork like her plate’s filled with insects.
Across the kitchen table, my dad raises an eyebrow.
I chew the inside of my cheek, biting back a laugh. “Just taste it. It’s okay if you don’t like it.”
It’s Saturday, so I thought it’d be good to try my hand at dinner, but this is my first time making a vegan meal for everyone. I didn’t expect the nerves. It’s like I’m feeling the pressure to represent or something. Butternut squash and black bean enchiladas is a staple at home with Mom. We make it every year on her birthday—which is pretty fitting since tomorrow’s her birthday—but I still can’t master it quite like her.
With my spine rod-straight and hands clasped together, I look between my dad and Rebecca. “So?”
Rebecca glances at me while she chews. “It’s got a nice kick to it. What is that? Jalapeño?”
“Yeah, it’s homemade jalapeño cashew cream.”
“Mmm, I like that. It’s almost cheesy. I have to say, this isn’t what I expected. I’m impressed you made all this yourself.”
I shrug like it was nothing, but I can’t stop grinning. “Mom and I make this one all the time, so I figured it’d be hard for me to mess it up.”
“Well, it tastes great to me.” She takes another bite.
I hold my breath as my dad, who’s been the quietest yet, swallows the last of his food, then wipes the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He takes a long inhale, patting his stomach while he exhales.
“That sauce,” he murmurs. “Susie gave you the recipe?”
I nod. “It’s good, right?”
He chuckles, scratching the top of his head where his hair’s thinning. “Good and familiar. I discovered it for her.”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
Rebecca nudges him with her elbow. “Since when do you go near anything vegan, aside from tonight?”
