“Oh gosh, Dan.” She rocks her hips, grinding against me. “Take your boxers off.” Climbing off me, she kneels on the bed and whips her knickers down.
My eyes widen at her bare pussy, smooth like silk. I can’t stop the smile from curling my lips. “You really did shave for me. You know I appreciate the thought, but you didn’t have to.”
She rolls her eyes. “It wasn’t for you. I like the feel of being dolphin smooth, that’s all.”
“Take your top off. I want to see your glorious tits.”
“No. My terms remember.” She pushes at my chest. “Lie back down.”
I grip her wrist, swipe my leg under her, forcing her onto her back as I pin her to the mattress.
She pants as if she’s running for her life, her heart beating wildly beneath her ribs, like a caged bird trying to escape. Her body writhes beneath me, but I pin her legs under mine, a self-defence tactic that I should probably teach her one day. “Let me go.”
“You can’t escape me, little bird.” I dip my head to inhale her scent, a subtle sweetness, as if she’s bathed in rose petals. “You can ride my dick all you want, but not before I taste you.”
She sucks in a breath, her chest rising, pressing against mine, with only a thin satin camisole between us, her dressing gown falling open, exposing her shoulder.
I dip my head to kiss her mouth, but she turns her head, so I kiss down her neck instead, needing to have my mouth on every part of my woman. If I can make her feel good like I did before, maybe she can learn to trust me, because this time I’m not going anywhere. She is my only mission and right now, my only task is to make her come so hard she’ll never want to let me go.
Hovering above her shoulder, I trace a silvery scar with my fingertip. “What happened here?”
Her eyes widen, she tilts her head, glancing at the scar marring her smooth skin like a blemish on a perfectly sculpted work of art. But we’ve both got scars, some too deep to see.
She tugs her dressing gown over her shoulder. “I… I was in an accident. It’s nothing.”
With one hand holding my weight above her, I ease her dressing gown to the side and dip my head to kiss her there. My heart aching that I wasn’t there for her. I know all about accidents.
She runs her fingers through my hair, her heavy breaths fanning my neck send a shiver down my spine. “It’s just a scar.”
“It’s not just a scar. It’s a reminder that I wasn’t around to take care of you, but all that’s gonna change now.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I mean it, fiore mio.” Lifting her nightdress, I stare down at her bare breasts. More than a handful, with stiff pink peaks begging to be sucked. “I’ve thought about these tits so many times.”
They shake as she laughs. “Seriously?”
“It’s true.”
“What are you, fifteen?”
My lips quirk. “Sweetheart, no fifteen-year-old could imagine the things I’ve thought about doing with your tits.” I lick my lips, saliva running down my tongue.
She grips my jaw between her finger and thumb. “If you spit on my breasts, I’ll slap you.”
My chest shakes with a silent laugh, but I pull my tongue into my mouth. The way she glares at me, she’s deadly serious and it’s fucking hot as hell. Keeping eye contact, I dip my head, taking her nipple into my mouth.
She arches her back, sucking air between her teeth before crying out with pleasure.
I move to the other breast, making sure they both get the same attention, and I bite down, then swirl my tongue around the stiffened nub. My dick weeps from the tip. Having this woman at my mercy is all too much, but I want to take my time with her while I reacquaint myself with her body.
“You’re delicious.” My voice is rough, thick with reverence as I kiss my way south, taking my time, honouring every inch of her skin like it’s the Holy Grail. When I reach the curve of her stomach, I pause as the sight of those silver lines some most likely from pregnancy. It punches the air from my lungs. They shimmer like softlightning bolts across her round belly, a map of everything I missed.
“I should have been there when you got these.” My throat tightens as I trace a finger over the stretch marks, each one a silent testament to the life she carried without me. Guilt and wonder twist in my gut as I press a kiss to each line, my lips lingering as if I can kiss away each scar and atone for my absence. “I should have been the one to rub lotion on your belly, stroke your back, massage your feet.”
She props herself up on her elbows with a soft smile in the dim light. “I’m always down for a foot massage.”
I chuckle under my breath, the sound shaky with emotion I can’t quite hide. “Anything for my flower.” I lean back on my haunches and lift her leg, my rough hands sliding over the soft silk of her skin. She’s warm beneath my touch, smooth as butter, and it wrecks me—how familiar she feels, yet how foreign this moment is after all the time lost.
