“Okay, then.” She walked to the door, locked it, then made her way back to the bed, taking off her clothes. She knew how visual he was, how much looking at her body aroused him. “Don’t put any pressure on yourself, okay?”
She knelt beside him, drew down his covers.
He reached out, cupped one of her breasts, fondled her. It was the first time he’d touched her sexually since the night before the accident, pleasure sliding through her. But this wasn’t about her.
She tugged off his pajama bottoms and pushed up his T-shirt, his body with its new scars so precious to her, his gaze raking over her.
“I know every inch of you.” She started slow, leaning down to kiss his chest, those firm pecs with their dusting of graying curls. She teased his nipples, kissing them, licking, sucking them into her mouth—and delighting when she felt his abs clench. “I love every inch of you.”
His fingers slid into her hair. “Mmm.”
It was the first sound of pleasure he’d made in so long.
She didn’t look at his penis. She didn’t want to put pressure on him. Instead, she caressed and kissed his chest, her lips pressing against his heartbeat before shifting to kiss and taste his biceps. “God, I love your muscles.”
She wasn’t just saying that. She’d always loved his body—all that muscle and soft skin, his flat, dark nipples, his sculpted chest. “My man.”
She kissed and nibbled her way down the center of his belly, giving each muscle of his six-pack lavish attention before moving on to nip and lick his obliques. “My favorite muscle.”
She could have wept honest-to-God tears when she saw his erection, not for herself but for him. She kissed her way around it, then, uncertain how long it would last with those meds in his bloodstream, she took him in hand and stroked.
“Did you ever pay me that ten bucks?”
His answer was a soft chuckle.
She lowered her lips to his cock, swirled her tongue over the swollen head, then took him into her mouth, sucking, bringing him fully erect. She knew his body well and knew what he liked most. Holding onto the base of his cock with one hand, she moved the other up and down his length in tandem with her mouth.
Mitch sucked in a breath, his fingers drawing tight in her hair.
And her pulse skipped—not from desire, but from joy for him.
Focused entirely on his pleasure, she built on her rhythm, swirling her tongue around him as she moved, going faster when little thrusts of his hips demanded it.
God, she loved him—her other half, her heart, her delight.
She knew how to read him. He was close now, his balls drawing tight, one hand clenched in the bedsheets, the other fisted in her hair.
He came with a groan, his hips lifting off the bed, come spilling over her hand as she finished him.
Heart soaring, she reached for the tissues, wiped them both clean, then helped him pull up his pajama bottoms once more. “Well, I guess that answersthatquestion.”
He reached for her, relief and love shining on his face.
“I can’t sleep in your bed. It’s against the rules.”
He raised a middle finger to the ceiling, a fierce expression on his face.
“In that case…” She slipped into bed beside him, pressed her cheek to his chest, one strong arm holding her close. “I’m so glad you’re still here with me, Mitch. Whether you learn to speak or climb again, I’m so grateful that you’re alive.”
When he’d fallen asleep, she got out of bed, dressed, and unlocked the door. Then she lay down in her foldout chair, her heart brimming with gratitude.
Thank God.
That following Sunday,Megs drove back to Scarlet Springs with Mitch’s blessing. He’d made it through his first week of rehab and was already showing improvement with speech and balance.
“Go,” he’d said when she explained she needed to do laundry.
Then he’d tapped a message into the tablet, asking her to be back for dinner.
