Page 74 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

Encircling one of my legs around his hip, he positions himself at my entrance, and with his eyes on mine, he slowly sinks in. The stretch is out of this world, and the fullness feels so right, I have to fight off the burning in my eyes.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, his mouth ghosting across my lips.

“Never,” I whisper as he pulls back and then pushes in again at the same time his tongue dips into my mouth and wraps around mine.

I have died and gone to heaven.

There is no other way to describe this feeling of being with him.

“You feel so good,” I tell him, my hands reaching for his lower back.

“You feel even better,” he says, tucking his hands underneath me to tilt my hips.

Time has stopped.

Over and over, Tyler’s hips snap against mine. Nothing has prepared me for how it would feel to be possessed and consumed by this man. Because that is what’s happening. I have zero control for how this is going to go, and I am 100 percent on board for the ride. His mouth has moved from my lips to my neck, to both of my breasts. His hands, which have run all over me and under me, are now tangled in my hair as he’s braced himself on his forearms. And as he widens his thighs and pushes my legs farther apart, I reach the point of no going back. All of it is sensory overload, and I give in to the wave of sheer pleasure by calling out his name. He takes that as his cue, settles his hips deep into mine, and lets go.

His weight settles on top of me, his warm body cradles around me, and his breaths come out long and deep against my ear—I want this. I want this every day until I die. I want him.

I know they say sex can elicit some really deep emotions, but if I’m being honest with myself, I didn’t need to do it to know that I love him. Sex with Tyler just allowed me to set it free in my mind without fear. Am I ready to tell him? No. But soon enough, I will be.

Chapter 32

Tyler

Sometime during the night, I wake due to the presence of someone in my bed. Subconsciously, I know it’s Lily, but the foreignness of it still stirs me. I’m on my back, she’s on her side, and she’s snuggled right up next to me. The heat of her skin runs down my whole body, and my brain sticks on her bare skin.

Lily is naked and in my bed.

Naked.

I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women in my lifetime, but none of them compares to her. She takes my breath away just by being herself, and she doesn’t even have to try.

And as for yesterday afternoon and last night . . . I have no words.

Lily gave herself to me, and she did it without one second of reservation or shyness. Her confidence in her sexuality is a whole other side to her that I didn’t know and wish I hadn’t waited so long to get acquainted with.

Damn.

For hours, we explored, learned, and pleasured each other. It’s a good thing today is to just work with the physical therapist because not only am I going to be tired but it’s quite possible I’m going to be sore. Sore from stamina I haven’t had to use in a long time, and sore from positions like holding her up against the shower wall and squatting in the kitchen as I ate her off the counter before she cooked dinner.

But I’m certain I’m not the only one. She let me work her over in a way that was essential, and I didn’t hold back. I couldn’t. This has been building for months, and I needed her in a way that bordered on frenzied.

“You know I’ve never been in your room,” she whispers against my chest. I didn’t realize she was awake too, but now that she is, I know it’s okay to twist a little and run my hand up and down her back.

“What do you mean?” I ask her, tracing bump after bump of her spine.

“Just that. I’ve never been up here.” Her hand slides from my chest to my stomach and then reaches across the far side of me to cover my ribs. It tickles a little, but it feels sensual even more. It also feels like she’s hugging me, and I like that even more.

“Ever?”

“Why would I come up here? This is your room and your space. I have no business being in here unless you invite me.”

It’s never even occurred to me that she wouldn’t have come up here at some point, even if it was to check out the rest of the place.

“But you live in this house.”

“Yes, your house,” she says, dragging her fingertips back across my chest. I should tell her it’s our house, that after last night I’m done for, but something holds me back, and I don’t know why. As open as I am with her and as much as I want her in every way, I can’t get the words to pass my lips. There’s a barrier, and I find it so frustrating. Is it because I subconsciously still have boundary issues? Is it that I fear what will happen when things do blow up if she does her reveal? Since Jonah’s, those colored flags have still been waving, yet my instincts aren’t to push her out of the house, but to lock her in to keep her safe. Why can’t I just tell her?