He licked, he sucked, he coaxed her with his mouth to stroke him harder.
He could feel the pleasure pulsing. Feel her thumb swirl the heavy head with the drop that seeped out.
The pounding of his blood, the beating of his heart, the pressure building at the base of his spine started to overwhelm his control. He was close. Too damned close.
She knew it too and guided him between her legs. He wanted to push inside so badly, his raging body started to sweat. But he let her tease herself, as he was incapable. He let her dampen herself with the sensitive tip, let her circle and nudge. But the feeling of that soft warm flesh was too much.
“Enough,” he bit out. “I can’t...”
This wasn’t going to be pretty; he needed to be inside her too badly, and it had been too long.
She released her grip, moved her hands around to his ass, and he started to push. He let out a deep, primal groan of pleasure as he sank deeper and deeper, as her body squeezed and clenched, as everything slipped into place.
He reached the end, and with one final nudge that made her cry out and their bodies lock into position.
He stilled. Their eyes met. He would die and never be tired of that look of surprise—of wonder—on her face. It happened every time. Which given how many times he’d made love to her didn’t make any sense. Except that he understood because he felt it, too.
He’d always felt it. He was just surprised to feel it now. He’d thought being with her again after all that had happened—after what he’d learned about her—that it would be different.
But it wasn’t.Shewasn’t. The connection between them was real. Whatever else had happened between them he could trust that.
He could trust this.
He started to move. Slowly at first, trying to make it last as long as it could when every instinct—every primitive impulse—was crying out to take and plunder. To unleash the powerful emotions that were raging inside.Emotions that he couldn’t talk about but that she understood.
She wouldn’t let him go slow. She met his thrust with a circle and lift of her hips that increased the pace—and the frenzy.
She started to moan. To urge him on with her naughty words. She told him all the things he hadn’t known how much he needed to hear. How much she’d missed this. How good he felt. How he was going to make her come.
And then, when he couldn’t hold on any longer, when he heard her cries, and his body let go of the freight train of need that had been crushing him...
She told him how much she loved him.
Eighteen
Natalie had forgotten....
No, that wasn’t true. She could never have forgotten; she just hadn’t let herself remember because she was scared she would never have this kind of feeling again. The feeling of closeness and absolute contentment.
She wasn’t surprised when Scott fell almost instantly asleep after they’d collapsed in a hot, sated heap. He’d rolled off her onto his back, tucked her in against his chest, and held her tightly as their bodies tried to recover from...
It was hard to put a name to something that incredible, that overwhelming, and that extraordinary. Touching heaven was too poetic for something so fierce and intense. Exploding? Shattering? Except that those were destructive and what had just happened was the opposite. It was forging, joining, and connecting.
It was special. It had always been special, but this time it seemed even more so as there was nothing between them anymore. There were no more veils, no matter how thin, to hide how she felt about him. How much she loved him.
She wasn’t even disappointed that he hadn’t said it back. She loved him unconditionally and wanted him to know that.
But he must have already known; he wouldn’t have come to her otherwise. Men like Scott didn’t need anyone—or at least they thought they weren’t supposed to. But everyone needed someone that they could turn to when things got rough, someone they could count on for comfort and understanding. Someone who could be the tether when everything else around them was spinning out of control.
Scott had been that way for her. He still was. And though she knew he’d never admit he needed a little stability, she wanted to be that for him.
He was hurting right now. Meeting the man who’d fathered him had forced him to face his identity. No matter how much he wanted Stephen Taylor’s blood running through his veins, it wasn’t going to happen, and Scott couldn’t ignore or pretend differently anymore. He had two fathers—the one who’d raised him and the one who’d given him his DNA—and today he’d had to accept that. What Scott was going to do when it came to Tom Greythorn, she didn’t know. Just as she didn’t know what his and her future held.
But right now he’d needed her, and that was enough.
It touched her that even in his pain and need he’d stopped to think of her. It hadn’t been necessary. God knew they’d made love enough times for her to know that what she had with Scott was in no way reminiscent of Mick. There was no confusion about that. But it was sweet and considerate. It also spoke of the kind of guy Scott was.
It was surprising that with everything she’d been through that sex had played such a big part in her relationship with Scott—and that she could be so free and uninhibited with him. She’d refused to let Mick takephysical pleasure from her. But when she was with Todd, it had been a conscious “I’m going to enjoy this.” With Scott she never even got that far. She never had to think about finding pleasure; it was just there.
