His hands wrap under my thighs, lifting me, and I drape my arms around his neck. I love it when he holds me. When he carries me like I weigh nothing at all.
In our bedroom, he strips off my red sweater. “My God, Lisette. You look…”
“Do you like it?” I finger the strap of the black lace bra. “You should take off my pants then.”
“I love it. I love…you.” He drops to his knees, flicks open the button at my waist, and slides the linen pants to the floor. His nose presses to my mound, inhaling deeply through the lace thong. “I can taste you already, Lisette. How long have you been wet for me?”
“All day.”
Nomar pinches one of my nipples, and I cry out, my arousal flooding the thin scrap of lace between my thighs. He tongues the lace, then slides a finger under the hem to swirl around my channel and ghost over my clit.
The light pressure is almost too much. I buck against his hand, needing more. Needinghim.
My hands shake when he stands and lets me unbutton his dress shirt. I shove it off his shoulders, trapping his arms so I can have my way with him—if only for a few minutes before I need him to take control once more.
I flick one of the thick barbs with my tongue, and his nipple hardens. His groan spurs me on, and I suck the hard nub between my lips. “Fuck. Yes.”
Seeing him like this, head tipped back, goosebumps rising along his arms, is intoxicating, and I move lower, kissing a trail down his chest, to theVof muscle disappearing below his belt.
He steps free of his pants. The black briefs do nothing to hide his need, or the heavy ring piercing his crown.
“I need you inside of me,” I whisper. “Please.”
His eyes flash, dark and dangerous as he eases me down to the bed. “Soon.” With a twist of his fingers, he unhooks the bra, and my breasts spill free. “I want to taste you first.”
He feasts on me, licking, sucking, kissing my thighs, my mound, my lower lips. I writhe on the bed, dew covering my skin. He has kept me on the edge for what feels like forever.
I can no longer beg. Or speak. Only desperate whimpers and mewls.
Pausing the rapid strokes of his tongue, Nomar peers up at me. “I love you, Lisette. With everything I am.”
Before I can find the words to reply, he plunges two fingers into my channel, and takes up a punishing rhythm against my clit.
With a scream, I fly off the cliff, the pleasure consuming me. There is nothing left but him. Us. Together.
* * *
One Month Later
The patterof rain over the umbrella is a calming backdrop to the chaos all around us. Some of the parents call out to their children, trying to coach them from the sides of the pitch. Others cheer and clap. Or talk amongst themselves.
Nomar returns to my side with two cups of coffee in his gloved hands. “This should help,” he says, and brushes his lips to mine.
“The coffee? Or the kiss? Because only one of those things truly warms me.”
“Let me guess. The coffee.” He grins, and we both laugh. “I think you might love it more than you love me sometimes.”
I take a sip, savoring the rich flavor tempered with a hint of milk. “Never. But after you and Mateen…coffee might be third.”
He scans the pitch, and his entire body tenses with coiled anticipation. “He’s got the ball.” Standing, his free hand clenched into a fist, he watches Mateen with such focus, my heart swells with love. “He’s going to score!”
Mateen veers off to the side of the pitch, looking around as if he is about to kick the ball to someone else. As the two opponents closest to him turn their attention to other players, my son takes off once more. Seconds later, he skids on the wet grass and drives his heel backwards against the ball.
It sails, fast and true, into the net as the clock hits zero.
Nomar cheers louder than anyone else in the stands. But as soon as he turns to me, fear churns in his eyes. “Lisette? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I choke out over my tears. “This…is what I dreamed of. When I thought I was going to die. When I thought I would never see you again.Thisis all I wanted, Nomar. To be wet and cold and so very happy. With you and Mateen. As a family.”
